#(he is such tragically beautiful and fascinating guy) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makoodles · 9 months

Text

ミtìohakx

[tI.o."hak’] P F n. hunger

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, tsu'tey pov, misunderstandings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader has nipple piercings, size kink, human x na'vi sex

🍓 wordcount: 18k

masterlist

it's been far too long since i wrote for my grumpy boy, so here were go! tsu'tey is really horny in this one guys lmao i'm sorry

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

There is something wrong with Tsu’tey.

Like, seriously wrong.

This isn’t necessarily a new sentiment to him; he’s been wondering if there’s something fundamentally broken in him for some time now, as if Sylwanin’s death had damaged him more than he could even tell. In the long and painful years following her death, he never so much as glanced at another woman with passing interest. In fact, he had convinced himself that he was no longer capable of experiencing anything even close to romantic or sexual feelings with anyone other than his first love.

Even when he was betrothed to Neytiri, his feelings never developed past fond friendship. Their mating would have been a duty, albeit one he was content enough to perform if it meant that he could serve the clan and maybe, finally, put some of that awful, bone-deep loneliness behind him. But while he loved Neytiri dearly, he could never drum up any real physical attraction beyond the aesthetic appreciation of knowing that she was a beautiful woman.

And that was fine. Tsu’tey never really had a problem with that. He had mostly resigned himself to never experiencing that kind of love again, even if the thought left him hollow on the inside. He’s always been proud to be the kind of man that throws all he has into all into his community and friendships and duties, but he can’t help but wish things were different. It feels a little as though he’s standing stagnant while everyone around him moves on.

The Omaticaya rebuild when the Sky People leave; families are built, bonds are made, and the People move forward. Everyone but Tsu’tey, it feels.

Tsu’tey, instead, finds himself tragically, humiliatingly preoccupied with matters that would surely never have even occurred to him before the war with the Sky People. Well, only one matter, really.

Instead of doing what is expected of him by finding a mate and settling down, like most other men his age in the clan, Tsu’tey finds himself distracted in a way that is completely unbecoming. He goes through his usual motions of hunting, weaving, carving, training, and yet he feels distant from it all, as though his thoughts and attention are elsewhere.

When he’s not carrying out his duties, he’s mortifyingly distracted by just one of the little sky demons that lingers around the village. You.

It would have been unthinkable for him only a few years ago. Even now, Tsu’tey can’t help but wonder if some essential part of him is broken. It’s the only way he can think to explain why you have captured his attention so completely.

There’s nothing special about you. Tsu’tey’s not completely delusional; he can recognise that you’re just a regular Sky Person, nothing impressive. You can’t hunt, you are bad at weaving, and you look odd. You are so tiny and weak, nothing like the willowy and strong women of his clan.

And yet, all of your odd differences are what end up endearing you to him. Tsu’tey has always felt compelled to protect, to serve his clan and defend his people. You’re small and soft, with your strange little face and pretty eyes, and you have no way of defending yourself. Perhaps that was how his fascination with you had started, but it’s since grown into a tentative… friendship, almost.

You visit the village almost every day, to help out where you can or to accompany Norm or even sometimes (and Tsu’tey sometimes has to centre himself to make sure he’s not reading too much into your alien behaviour) just to spend time with him.

“Hey, big guy,” You call out, like you always do, sashaying your way across the village towards him.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting outside his hut, carving a small wooden bowl. It takes quite a bit of effort to look unaffected and casual, especially when his tail had begun to curve around his legs from the moment he had picked up on your sweet scent on the breeze.

“Demon.” He greets back. He chances a quick glance up at you from beneath his eyelashes, hoping you don’t notice.

Then he does a double take, his head snapping up to look at you again as he completely forgets to feign disinterest.

Tsu’tey is used to having you around the village, and he’s used to stifling his embarrassing attraction towards you as best he can. What he’s not used to is the sight of you wearing such tiny little shorts, or such a tight top. The alien fabric is stretched tight across your breasts and so thin that he can see the subtle shape of your nipples beneath the taut fabric.

His stomach does an odd sort of flip, leaving him dizzy.

It's not that he’s shocked by your body – you are still entirely covered (and he tries to quash the disappointment that niggles in the back of his head), and he has seen many female bodies before.

But this is you, and he has never seen so much of you before. The sky demons are confusingly modest and oddly ashamed about their bodies, which means that Tsu’tey has simply had to tackle his odd embarrassing attraction to you with nothing more than his imagination. To see you now like this feels like a physical blow.

Tsu’tey inhales so sharply that he nearly chokes on his own breath. “Tawtute, what—?”

“You said we could go swimming in the river today.” You say, raising the weird little hairy ridges on your brows.

Ah, he thinks, a little dazed. He had said that. It had been a moment of madness, on his part. He had been trying to come up with an excuse to invite you to spend more time with him, and the added incentive of getting to show off some of his skills to you had made him over-eager and excited.

“Mn.” He grunts, his eyes glancing down over the length of your legs, your soft squishy skin all exposed by your tiny shorts. They’re hitched high on your hips, which draws his eyes to your waist and then up again to your breasts, where your top clings to the soft round shape of them.

His eyes follow your hips as you cock them to the side, your hands landing on the curve of your waist. Damn. He… he should really be familiar with the shape of you, by now. You’ve been a near constant presence in the village since the moment you had made the decision to stay behind on Pandora to live in the shoddy human outpost in the nearby forest.

He knows what you look like. But he’s never really seen you in clothes this tight and small before. It’s stupid. Really stupid. He can’t really explain why the sight of your squishy little thighs in those shorts has turned his thoughts into a pathetic buzzing mush of white noise.

You tilt your head, obviously waiting for him to say something. Your eyes are all shiny, looking at him with an expectant smile.

“Yes.” Tsu’tey swallows thickly, forcing himself to his feet. “You wish to swim.”

The thought is a little thrilling. Perhaps he will even be able to catch a few fish in front of you as well. Showing off physical prowess is just one way of impressing a potential mate, and while it’s not initially what he had intended with the offer, the idea of putting on a mating display for you makes excited heat simmer low in his belly.

“Well, you offered.” You remind him, biting at your lower lip under your mask. Your mouth looks all glossy and wet, more so than usual; he wants to touch your lips more than anything.

“Yes. I offered.” He nods, looking down at you as you stand in front of him.

Ah, the height difference is going to his head a little – your face is just level with his belly button, your head tilted all the way back so that you can gaze up at him. His cock twitches at the sight.

“Come.” Tsu’tey says, trying to shake off his distraction before he embarrasses himself.

Just like always, you happily follow after him as he leads the way away out of the village towards the forest. He glances over his shoulder a couple of times, just to make sure that you’re still there.

“I was thinking that after swimming, we could go for a walk,” You say, your little legs working overtime in an attempt to keep up with him. “I’ve been craving that fruit you let me try last time. You know, the one that looks like a blue balloon, but is pink on the inside and really sweet?”

He slows down so that you can keep pace with him more easily, his eyes drawn down to you as you walk. You don’t seem to be wearing your strange little chest covering that usually covers your breasts under your other top, which means that your soft breasts are bouncing lightly with every step you take. Tsu’tey nearly trips over his own feet when he notices, because now it’s like he can’t keep his eyes off you.

The Sky People are demons, a plague on his planet and his people. But you are so bright and sweet, always excited to see him and spend time with him. And your soft body is so different to the Na’vi women he’s used to – you have so much give to you, squishy and bouncy where Na’vi women are firm and lean, especially in places like your thighs and breasts and little tummy. Tsu’tey has never struggled with his self-discipline as much as he does around you.

“Kllpxiwll.” He says, his voice coming out a little less strong than he’d like. “Yes. We can walk later.”

You beam at him, making his tail lash around his ankles. Your cheeks squish up when you smile like that, and his fingers itch with the desire to squeeze at your face.

“Great!” You say brightly, before reaching out to take his hand in yours.

This time, Tsu’tey really does trip. He manages to regain his balance quickly enough that there’s a chance you didn’t notice, but then he looks down at you with wide eyes. Your hand is so small, your little slender fingers curling around his much larger palm, and Tsu’tey swears his heart skips over a beat at the feeling.

Ah, you need his hand for the balance – you hold tight to him as he helps you step over logs and through the long glowing grass between the huge trees. You use your grip on him both as leverage to climb over some of the obstacles before you and to make sure that Tsu’tey keeps his pace slow that you can keep up.

You even glance up at him, your expression uncertain and a little vulnerable, as though you’re unsure how he’s going to react to your touch. He can understand why; he’s never been shy about letting his distaste for your kind known.

But you’re different. He wonders if you know it – you must know, right? It must be obvious to you, how he looks at you with starry, moronic eyes.

He looks away, struggling to keep his expression cool and neutral. He lets you hold his hand but doesn’t squeeze back, nervous about how tiny your hand is in his and how he might hurt you without even meaning to.

After a moment or two you withdraw your hand, biting at your lip as a small frown tugs at your brow.

When the two of you reach the river, Tsu’tey turns to you and waits. He feels as though he’s holding his breath, watching and waiting as his stomach turns flips. He feels antsy and itchy, his fingers twitching as he forces his face to remain as still as possible.

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as your mouth twitches in amusement. “Is there a reason you’re glaring at me like that, babe?”

Tsu’tey frowns reflexively; you’re always calling him strange little nicknames that he doesn’t understand, and he’s yet to decide whether he likes them or not. He decides to focus on the other part of your sentence.

“I am not glaring.” He protests, though he doesn’t relax his face. This expression mostly comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t really want you to see him open and mushy anyway. “I am—I am looking.”

“Okay,” You drawl, drawing the word out. “Looking at me?”

“No. Get in the water.” He says, and it accidentally comes out sounding like an order.

He’s lucky you’re used to his brash manner and blunt attitude, because you just roll your eyes at him instead of taking offence. That’s part of the reason he finds you so lovely, always so sweet and bright even when he makes a mess of communicating with you. His tail coils, so relieved that he hasn’t messed this up yet with you.

When your small hands reach for the button on your tiny shorts, Tsu’tey can’t help but stare. You push the strange rough blue material down over your thighs, and he takes a steadying breath through his nose as you push them down to your ankles.

It’s the first time he’s seen you so exposed, so vulnerable – so… human. Your body is perfect. Beautiful. Soft and curvier than a Na’vi woman, so much smaller than him. He feels a little guilty about the way he’s looking at you so lecherously, but he can’t seem to stop.

He feels his mouth go dry, but he can't bring himself to look away. He's never seen you like this, and he'd never forgive himself if he missed this opportunity just to look.

You step out of your shorts, left in just that thin white top and tiny bottoms that he has heard you call ‘panties’ before. They are small, more revealing than the loincloths worn by his people, so thin and dainty. They cling to you, and Tsu’tey swears he feels his thoughts dissolve into pure nothingness at the realisation that he can practically see the outline of your—

“You’re coming too, right?”

Tsu’tey blinks, a little dazed. When he speaks, his voices comes out a little too sharp yet again. “What?”

You’re looking at him, your eyebrows raised and scrunched a little as you stare at him. You’re confused, he realises, and it takes a moment to realise that it must look as though he’s been glaring at you yet again.

It’s just... That... is a lot of skin. It feels illicit in a way that he’s not used to, because he doesn’t normally see this much of you. It feels like human modesty is now rotting his brain if this is how he’s reacting to just the sight of your bare legs.

“You good?” You ask, and you sound a little uncertain now. “You look… you look kinda angry.”

Tsu’tey manages a grunt, but he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and he’s sure his words will just come out clumsy and thick. He glances away from you before picking at the ties of his battle band around his waist, drawing it away from him and settling it aside in the phosphorescent moss. He feels naked without it, though he doesn’t remove his tewng.

“I am not angry.” He says at last, pleased with how steady he sounds.

You just hum, and step away from him towards the water. He watches you go, his gaze trailing over all your soft flesh. This cannot be normal. Human women are not supposed to be this attractive, and Na'vi men are certainly not meant to be attracted to them.

And yet... he can't resist sneaking glances at you whenever the opportunity presents itself. Your bare skin, your soft body, your bouncing breasts, your lips... you’re driving him mad. His twitching cock beneath his loincloth means that there is no chance of pretending he doesn’t know how attracted he is to you.

You step into the water, letting out a breathy noise of surprise at the temperature. “Oh, it’s cold!”

He watches you walk ahead of him into the river, his eyes are drawn to your hips, then your waist, then... he feels his face grow hot. Get a grip, Tsutey. You're being ridiculous.

But... oh Eywa...

Tsu’tey just breathes. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to collect himself. He’s being an idiot. He’s better than this; he is a warrior, a hunter, he has been trained for leadership and has fought alongside Toruk Makto. There is no good reason for a human woman to bring him to his damn knees like this.

You wade in a little deeper, until the running river water gurgles around your thighs. Then a little further, until the current is rippling around the bare skin of your waist. Then you keep going, until you’re submerged up to your neck, and you’re making a scrunched up little face as you hiss through your teeth.

“Shit! How can the water be this cold when it’s so hot out!” You complain again, your nose all wrinkled.

Oh.. you’re just adorable. Tsu’tey feels his fingers twitching again, wanting so badly to touch and squeeze and pinch.

You glance back over at him, and give him an odd little look. “Hey, are you coming? I didn’t come here just to swim by myself!”

Tsu’tey stumbles slightly as he makes his way to the edge of the water. Fuck, he’s just a mess of warring emotions right now. All he seems to be able to do is stare at you with hot, hungry eyes.

He glances away again, unable to keep looking at you any longer. He takes a deep breath and dives into the water, keeping his body straight as an arrow as he spears through the water and surfaces only a few feet from you.

The water is cold, but he finds it refreshing. It shocks some awareness back into him, makes him feel a little more normal and less stunned.

You squeal with laughter as his dive splashes you, throwing your head back as you bob in the water nearby. You paddle a little closer to him, swimming a little deeper until you’re treading water next to him.

“It is cold.” He breathes. It’s the only thing he can think of to say that’s even mildly intelligent, yet it sounds like it falls entirely flat.

But you just giggle as though he’s told a wonderful, highly intelligent joke. His ears twitch, relishing the sound of your laughter.

Tsu'tey swallows thickly, his eyes drawn down to your chest. Your thin white top has turned translucent, and clings to the soft shape of your breasts. Through the thin wet fabric, he can see the prominent shape of your nipples.

“I’ve been looking forward to this swim all day,” You’re saying, blissfully unaware Tsu’tey going through his crisis right at your side. “It’s been hot – honestly, the cold water is a bit of a relief, right?”

“Mngh.” Tsu’tey makes an odd grunting noise, before inhaling sharply and tearing his gaze away from you.

He dips down, allowing the river water to engulf him as it rushes over his head. He half-heartedly hopes he drowns, too, but that thought only lasts a moment before he resurfaces and takes a deep, grounding breath.

He can do this. It’s fine. He enjoys spending time with you, especially when he gets to steal you away from the village and the outpost and gets to enjoy your company away from all the curious eyes of the clan. He likes the feeling of having you all to himself.

He swims with you for a while, enjoying the feeling of the water current running over his skin and stealing looks at you as often as he can without you noticing.

You’re so small and soft, and you look pretty in the glow of the sunlight filtering through the trees that shelter the river. He swallows thickly. It feels like he’s witnessing something he never imagined he’d be allowed to see. Your hips. Your waist. Your soft thighs. Your… everything. Fuck, he wants you.

Eventually, you tire, and paddle your way back to the riverbank. Tsu’tey follows as if he’s been magnetised, orbiting nearby you as you clamber your way back onto the sand. Then you lay out on the bank in the sun to dry off, and Tsu’tey feels his pulse throbs hot and heavy in his throat.

He climbs out after you, his tail swinging low as his eyes trail over your figure. Your wet clothes cling to you, the soft fabric of your panties sticking to your hips and your translucent white top revealing almost everything to him.

He settles next to you, unable to look away from the way your nipples are firm and stiff where they're pressing against the thin top. Then his brow furrows, and he cocks his head.

“Tawtute…” He murmurs before he can think better of it, laying on his side as he looks down at you. “I.. may I ask you a… question?”

“Mhm. Of course.” You say without opening your eyes, enjoying the gentle heat of the sun warming your skin.

Tsu’tey swallows, wonders very briefly if he should keep his thoughts to himself, but his curiosity burns at him. He knows very little about Sky People, and he’s never truly felt any real impulse to learn more. But you’re laying next to him right now, and he finds himself very intrigued indeed about your body and possible… physical differences between you.

“It—Sky People bodies are different to ours,” He says. He attempts to keep his voice steady and as confident as possible, and possibly overcompensates by simply scowling. “It looks—it looks as though you have more nipples than we do. Why is that?”

Your eyes fly open, wide and startled beneath the clear material of your mask, and you stare up at him for a long moment of bewilderment. “I—excuse me?”

Tsu'tey flounders for a moment, thrown off by your tone, heat rushing to his face. "It looks as though—”

You glance down at yourself as he gestures clumsily at your chest, barely covered in your translucent white human fabric. Your expression clears as realisation hits, and then you bite your lip as though you’re trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” You breathe, placing your hand over your breasts. “No, sweetheart. They’re just—they’re just pierced.”

Tsu’tey stares at you uncomprehendingly. “Pierced?”

You nod, and Tsu’tey blinks. The revelation takes him by surprise, though he’s still not entirely certain what you mean by it. Human women pierce their nipples? To him, your breasts are already the most beautiful thing in the world. Why would you want to poke holes through them? What is the thought process behind that?

"Why?" he finally asks, his tone bewildered. "What is the purpose?"

“It’s not.. it’s not that there’s a purpose..” You trail off.

In the ensuing silence you stare at him, as though begging him to understand what you mean, before apparently realising that he isn’t going to. You bite your lip, then glance around as though checking that you’re still alone with him.

“I guess… well, nudity’s not a big deal for Na’vi, right?” You murmur, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your top. “Is it alright if I take this off?”

Nudity certainly isn’t a big deal to his people, not in the way it is for any of the tawtute. The Na’vi are comfortable in their bodies, and so the strange modesty of the Sky People is completely foreign to him. He has seen female breasts every day of his life, the chest coverings worn by the women of his people designed to decorate rather than conceal, and yet he has never in his life been filled with such an all-consuming desire to see a pair of tits before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, keeping his face as cool and unreadable as possible in an attempt at hiding his sheer desperation. “It is no ‘big deal’.”

You hesitate another moment, looking shy and a little embarrassed as you fidget with the hem of your top.

His focus is fully on you now, all his senses trained firmly on the sight of you. The desire to see what lies beneath that flimsy garment is becoming overwhelming.

Let me see, He thinks to himself. Just let me see, and maybe I'll finally be satisfied.

Finally, finally, you tug your top up and off. Tsu’tey inhales so deeply and sharply he nearly chokes on it. His eyes are drawn to your bare chest, transfixed. Your breasts are soft and squishy, perfectly shaped. And for the first time, he sees the small silver bars nestled into your nipples, which are firmed up after the cold of the water. They glitter in the sunlight, capturing his attention and holding it in a vice.

Oh, no, He thinks desperately, feeling a pang of desire deep in his loins. Far from satisfy him, the sight has only made him hunger for more. He wants to touch, especially the odd metal that glitters at your breasts.

“See?” You ask, as if he could have ever missed the sight before him. “My piercings.”

“Mmm.” Tsu’tey manages to get out. His voice is deeper than he had intended, and a little stiff. “I see them.”

You smile, as though you’re waiting for a reaction, but Tsu’tey is a little struck dumb. He watches the light of the sun shining on your wet skin, the way your breasts gently swell and fall with each exhalation of your breath, the subtle gleam of the silver of your piercings. The longer he goes without reacting, the more your expectant smile begins to fade.

“What are they for?” He manages to swallow thickly as he asks.

The question makes you laugh, which isn’t a reaction he had intended but is certainly a sound that he always cherishes.

“They’re not really for anything,” You murmur, reaching up to touch your own breast. “They’re just meant to look good, I guess.”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly, and he wants so badly to replace your hand with his much larger one; he knows you would look so small beneath his palms. He glances swiftly at your face, and wonders if you would be upset if he touches the little silver bars that decorate your tits.

“This is… this is what is considered attractive to Sky People?” He asks. It comes out in a croak; too much of his energy is being diverted to trying to keep his hands still and to himself.

Your smile begins to fade again, your brow creasing. “Um… sometimes, I guess. You don’t.. uh, you don’t think so?”

That is a loaded question. How is he supposed to answer that when you’re laying on the riverbank beside him with only a thin, wet scrap of fabric covering your most intimate parts? He already feels as though most of the blood in his body had redirected downwards; his cock is pulsing, enough so that he can’t actually think anymore.

All he can do is grunt like a damn talioang. Your face falls further.

“I guess they must seem kinda strange.” You murmur. You must be growing self-conscious, because you start to cover your chest with your arms.

The sight of you trying to cover that perfect view from him sends a bolt of panic through him, and he just stops short of tearing your hands away again.

“You do not have to cover,” He says quickly, before he can think about it. “Like you said, it—nudity means little to us. I do not care.”

“Right.” You say, your voice gone a little bland. “It means nothing to you.”

Tsu’tey knows that your attitude has changed, fallen a little flat. But you’re laying right there, soft and small and squishy, displaying more of your bare flesh than he has ever seen from you, and he can’t pull his thoughts together.

He feels no better than the moronic young warriors that push each other around and whisper nonstop about the women of the clan. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent hunter, and a good provider for the whole clan – he is also experienced with women, so he can’t understand why the sight of you is turning him into a hormonal teenager again.

“Nothing.” He agrees stupidly, still struggling not to be too obvious with his staring.

You purse your lips, but drop your arms all the same. Tsu’tey tries not to goggle.

Oh no, He thinks miserably to himself as he watches the little barbells in your nipples sparkle in the sun. I really am broken.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

Tsu’tey is quite certain that he’s made a fool of himself in front of you.

He’s never been good at expressing himself or his emotions, and his attraction to you scares him as much as it excites him. He alternates between reticence and putting his foot in his mouth, between being unable to meet your gaze and being unable to look away.

He probably looks deranged. He feels deranged.

To make it worse, he knows that his interest in you is obvious to anyone in the clan that watches him interact with you for even a short time. He feels the eyes on him all the time, watching, often looking vaguely sympathetic, which is somehow worse than the horror he had been expecting.

Mercifully no one has said anything to him just yet. At least, no one of any great importance.

“So, you’re telling me that she was laid out next to you, practically naked, just to show off her pierced tits, and you did nothing?” Jakesully demands, his voice like the constant droning buzz of an irritating insect in Tsu’tey’s ear.

Tsu’tey chews sullenly at some roasted teylu, trying and failing to tune his Olo’eyktan out so that he can enjoy his meal.

“Come on, man, seriously.” Jakesully is nudging him now, like an infernal pest. “She took off all her clothes for you, and you didn’t try to—”

“Ma Jake, there are children here.” Neytiri says primly from Jakesully’s other side. She has also been trying her best to ignore her mate, rocking the baby in her lap, but now she sends him a warning glance. The sting of her glare is dulled due to the fact that she’s visibly trying not to laugh.

“Sleeping babies, they got no idea what I’m talking about.” Jake says dismissively, though he adjusts baby Kiri in his arms and leans into his wife’s side all the same.

Tsu’tey shifts where he’s sitting next to him, and allows his gaze to wander across the gathering. He is still waiting to catch sight of you, to see you approaching from across the campfire.

“I’m just saying, man, you’re so obviously into each other that it’s actually painful to watch—”

Tsu’tey grunts irritably. “I am not discussing this.”

“You like her, and she’s all over you!” Jakesully insists. In his arms, Kiri starts to gurgle, and Jake hurriedly raises her up to his shoulder to rub at her little back.

“She is my friend.” Tsu’tey says stubbornly, focusing on his dinner.

Jakesully scoffs. “I’m your friend, but you don’t see me sitting in your lap or holding your hand or getting naked—”

“We are not friends.” Tsu’tey scoffs.

“Ouch,” Jake drawls, rolling his eyes. “Damn, man. I thought we were close.”

Tsu’tey grumbles, scowling into the distance. The irritating thing is, he thinks that he and Jake are close. Admittedly, they still have their rocky moments; Jakesully has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, but he is also an infuriating man and Tsu’tey has always been easy to rile. But… despite their frequent bickering, Tsu’tey has come to trust his judgements.

Tsu’tey purses his lips and picks at the remaining teylu in his small carved bowl. “You… think that she may return my feelings?”

Jake groans, holding the baby with one hand as he covers his face with the other. “You’re killing me here.”

On Jake’s other side, baby Neteyam starts to fuss in Neytiri’s arms. She sighs, pressing a kiss to her son’s chubby cheek before beginning to rock him gently. She’s been listening with as much patience as she’s capable of, though the whole conversation has been punctuated with her eyerolls and scornful hisses.

“Why do you not talk with her, Tsu’tey?” Neytiri asks in a tone that suggests she thinks both men are idiots. “Explain how you feel to her.”

Tsu’tey just gives her a look of disbelief. It’s like she doesn’t know him at all. When has he ever talked about his feelings before? He prefers to just feel things intensely and then shove it all down very deep until it inevitably bursts right out of him.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this; not since he was a teenager fumbling his way through his feelings with Sylwanin. It’s especially embarrassing to know that it’s a sky demon that’s eliciting this reaction from him, and that his closest friends are witnesses to his humiliation.

“I am going to sit with the other tsamsiyu,” Tsu’tey sniffs, pushing himself up from the log. “Perhaps they will have some more intelligent conversation.”

Neytiri scoffs, sounding more scornful than offended. “I doubt it.”

“Besides,” Jake adds, grinning at him over Kiri’s little downy-haired head. “Here comes your little bestie.”

Tsu’tey nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns his head, and surely enough there you are. You’re stepping across the gathering, smiling politely at one of the old women who says something to you as you pass by her.

He hastily sinks back down beside Jake, ignoring his pointed snickers.

The closer you get, the more details Tsu’tey can see. You’re all neat and clean, still wearing those tiny shorts. But you’re wearing a different top now, this one green like the verdant leaves of the trees that tower overhead, and now he can see that you’re wearing your odd little breast covering under your top. It pushes your soft breasts up and together in a way that’s very enticing, although he is admittedly a little disappointed by the way your strange little decorated nipples are hidden beneath the padding.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, your voice as cheerful and bright as always.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch towards you eagerly, his nerves lighting up at the sound of your voice.

“Tawtute—” He begins to greet, but immediately chokes as you reach them and promptly climb right into his lap.

Oh fuck. His every muscle tightens, and all of his thoughts are frozen at the feel of your soft body moulding to his – you’re so small and so squishy, your soft body yielding so easily to the hard muscle of his chest.

He goes to grab at your hips as you nestle yourself into the cradle of his thighs, before panicking and grabbing at his own legs instead. He grips at his thighs harshly, his nails digging into his own skin hard enough to almost draw blood.

“Hello.” He manages to get out, sounding thick and a little stupid.

“Hi.” You reply, smiling up at him as though you think his inability to speak is adorable.

“Jesus Christ.” Jake mutters from off to the side.

Tsu’tey bares his teeth at him from over your head, but Jake is too busy sharing suggestive looks with Neytiri to even notice.

You shift, and he nearly swallows his tongue when your soft bottom settles neatly over his crotch. He panics as he feels blood rush south, and he hurriedly grabs at your hips to shift you from his crotch to his thigh, hoping that you hadn't felt his body respond in arousal.

“I—I have something for you,” He blurts, grabbing for the small carved wooden bowl he had set carefully by his side; he’s just been waiting for you to arrive. “I collected kllpxiwll berries for you earlier.”

Your eyes widen beneath your breathing mask, a pretty smile brightening up your face. “Oh, these are my favourite.”

“Yes, I know.” Tsu’tey says. His hands are still resting on your hips, enjoying how delicate you feel perched in his lap, but he feels a thin thread of panic underlying his delight. You’re so fragile, and he’s so terrified that his big rough hands will hurt you accidentally.

As you settle your bottom back onto his leg again with the bowl in your hands, he does what he does best and shoves his feelings deep, deep down. He will not allow himself to be driven mad by his desire for a human, however soft and warm and pretty you may be.

“Wow,” Jake drawls from his side. “That was really kind of you, Tsu’tey.”

"It is nothing." he replies, his voice coming out rough. "You are my friend."

It makes him want to bite his own tongue off to have you like this against him, but he forces a relaxed grin anyway. He can feel that it comes out strained, because inside he feels like he’s losing his mind. Your closeness is intoxicating, and he cannot stop himself from brushing his free hand against your thigh.

But you’ve tensed in his lap, the little bowl held tight in your lap. Under your mask, you’ve started to frown.

“Your friend.” You repeat blandly.

Jake winces at his side, and Tsu’tey suspects that he’s already put his foot in his mouth. But your soft, plump ass is seated so damn close to his cock beneath his tewng that he just can’t think straight.

“Yes.” He says dumbly. “We are friends.”

You purse your lips and look back down at the bowl of kllpxiwll berries, picking at them distractedly. “Right.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, uncomfortable with your sudden silence. Are you angry with him? His eyes drop down to the fruit he had gathered for you, his stomach sinking. Is it not to your liking?

“Do you not like the kllpxiwll?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder to try and get a glimpse of your face.

He can vaguely hear Neytiri make a sound of pure derision off to the side, but he’s trying his hardest to block both Jake and Neytiri out.

“It’s nice.” You say, though you don’t sound very enthused.

Tsu’tey frowns, but then you move to get comfortable and your ass nestles itself right over the ridge of his hardened cock and he swears that his vision tunnels and turns entirely dark for a second. He panics, then grabs at your hips out of pure reflex and bodily lifts you off of him.

You yelp, obviously startled, your arms windmilling as Tsu’tey thrusts you at Jake before leaping to his feet. He can see the way Jake is staring at him as though he doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, and the way that Neytiri looks faintly disbelieving, and the way that you look all ruffled and startled as you look up at him as though waiting for an explanation for why you’ve just been so unceremoniously booted off his lap.

“Sorry, I—” Tsu’tey begins, his throat tight and much too dry as he tries desperately to come up with an excuse that has nothing to do with his dick. “You were too heavy.”

Jake’s face screws up in yet another wince before he buries his face in baby Kiri’s shoulder as though he can’t bear to watch Tsu’tey humiliate himself.

You’re still staring up at him from where he had inadvertently dumped you on the ground, your face the picture of confusion and hurt. “I’m too—what?”

Tsu’tey dithers for a moment, feeling terribly exposed. Why had he stood up? It’s only a matter of time before both you and Jake notice that he’s had a very physical reaction to you sitting perched in his lap. Neytiri has already noticed, though she’s been kind enough to direct her gaze pointedly skywards.

“I will fetch you water.” He blurts, before turning on his heel and positively fleeing.

It’s a coward’s move, leaving you confused on the ground like that, but he feels as though if he doesn’t get away from your smooth skin and pretty smile he’s going to drown.

You’re just a human, he tells himself over and over. You’re not supposed to be that attractive. You’re not supposed to do that to me. That was just me being weak.

Tsu’tey only pauses when he’s on the very edge of the gathering, taking a moment to breathe.

You’ve always been such an affectionate little thing, but his nerves can’t take so much physical contact from you. You have no idea how much restraint he is attempting to exert, how difficult it is not to press his face into your throat and leave his scent behind all over you, or to keep his hands to himself instead of allowing them to wander all over your plush skin.

But he doesn’t want to make a move on you; harbouring these desires for a Sky Person is bad enough, but the possibility of being rejected is even worse. Both because of the humiliation of rejection, and because Tsu’tey doesn’t know what he’ll do if you decide it’s too awkward to be around him anymore. He doesn’t actually know what you want from him. You had laid out almost naked next to him, but you hadn’t made any advances either. He isn’t even sure if you like him or if the Great Mother just has a cruel sense of humour.

Tsu’tey is a little clumsy when he grabs at a waterskin, glancing across the gathering. Even from this distance, he can see the unhappy frown on your face as you speak with Jake, who is visibly trying to appease you. Neytiri has taken both of the babies in her arms, tucking Neteyam into the woven net carrier on her chest so that she can hold Kiri in the crook of her elbow as Jake speaks to you.

Tsu’tey winces a little and glances away again, reluctant to watch the aftermath of his outburst unfold.

A few of the warriors nearby are drinking fermented pasuk liquor, and Tsu’tey wordlessly takes a skin and takes a long gulp of it. His silent drinking earns him a couple of odd looks, but none of them seem willing to comment on it and he’s too busy drinking and trying to ignore the ache in his crotch to explain himself.

“Are you well, Tsu’tey?” One of them finally asks, a little hesitantly.

“Fine.” Tsu’tey says brusquely. His manner does not invite any further questions, and his peers fall obligingly silent. “I am taking this.”

He clutches the skin as he prepares to return to his place at the cookfire beside you, though he pauses to take another drink before he goes anywhere. From this distance, you look a little calmer; you’re listening closely to whatever Jake is saying, nodding with a little frown of concentration.

“Tsu’tey?”

He nearly jumps out of his damn skin. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the soft-footed approach of Saeyla, who has come up on his other side.

“Saeyla.” He greets, his ears pinning back in apprehension.

Saeyla smiles, but doesn’t blink. The effect is unnerving, and gives the impression of a predator watching him. He takes another deep drink from the skin, hoping that perhaps it will help him come up with some way to salvage his pride.

“You look stressed, karyu.” She notes, taking a careful step closer.

Tsu’tey tenses, his brow drawing into his usual scowl. “I am not your karyu anymore. You have passed your iknimaya.”

Saeyla just nods, still smiling a little. The air between them feels uncomfortable, but Tsu’tey wonders if he’s the only one that notices. He still feels rather awkward about how he had rejected Saeyla so harshly that night she had approached him beneath the Tree of Souls. He does not regret rejecting her, but he does feel as though he could have perhaps done so a little more gently than he had.

But while Saeyla has been avoiding him in the months since, it seems that now she is starting to get over some of the hurt he had inadvertently caused. It is a relief to see that she has decided to take a mature approach.

“I was wondering if you could help me,” She says, tilting her head. “One of the beams in my kelku collapsed, and it is too heavy for me to lift by myself.”

From the other side of the gathering, Tsu’tey can see you get to your feet and a bolt of panic shoots through him. Why are you standing? Where are you going? Are you leaving?

“Uh, yes,” Tsu’tey says distractedly, beginning to step away from Saeyla and back towards where he had left you. “I can help.”

“Later? After the gathering?” Saeyla asks, beginning to follow him.

“Yes, yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, waving her off before hurriedly leaving her behind.

Walking through the dinner gathering is like attempting an obstacle course, and Tsu’tey is distracted as he tries to avoid stepping on the tails of the gathered clan. Luckily, many seem to sense his urgency, and they sweep their tails close to their bodies as they watch Tsu’tey hurry back over to where he’d left you with Jake and Neytiri.

“Tawtute,” He says when he reaches you again, his ears pinning back. “Your water.”

You look a little surprised at his abrupt return, though you bite your lip and take the waterskin he’s offering all the same. “Oh.. thank you.”

As you pull your mask up and raise the waterskin to your mouth to take a sip, Tsu’tey spares a glance at Jake and Neytiri. Their expressions are about what he had expected; Jake still looks as though he’s trying not to laugh, while Neytiri looks distinctly pitying. Tsu’tey winces, and quickly looks away again.

You’ve only just taken a sip of the water he’s brought you when you choke on it, coughing and spluttering. “Oh— what the fuck—” You gasp, hurriedly fixing your mask back over your face as you heave for breath.

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks, glancing at the skin that he had handed to you and then at the second one still in his hand.

“Uh—wrong one.” He grunts, snatching the skin of pasuk liquor back out of your hand before handing you the other one that’s filled with water. “… Sorry.”

You’re staring at him with some disbelief now, your eyes watering a little from the strength of the alcohol beneath your exo-mask. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” Tsu’tey scowls, then amends, “A little.”

You goggle at him with a look of faint astonishment, before you turn to look at Jake. Tsu’tey shifts, feeling rather unfairly jealous, and scowls when he sees you and Jake share a significant look.

“Right.” You say. You sound a little stiff, but you manage to conjure up a sweet smile all the same. “Well. I’m, uh, I’m going to head back to the outpost.”

“Oh.” Tsu’tey says. He hides his disappointment the best that he can, keeping his face still as his tail curls down by ankles.

“But, maybe you could walk me home?” You continue, your eyelashes batting at him.

For the first time, Tsu’tey realises that you look a little different. Your eyelashes are darker and longer, your skin tone smoothed out and even, your cheekbones a little shiny. Your lips look plumper and glossier too, a little redder than their natural tone.

He blinks at you, distracted and a little flustered by your appearance.

“Yes.” He says moronically, hastily passing off the skin full of liquor to Jake, who looks at it in bewilderment.

That makes you brighten, and you reach for his hand hesitantly as though you think he may pull away from you. Tsu’tey watches the way your small fingers intertwine with his much thicker ones, and feels his pupils expand as his tail coils in excitement.

He’s aware of the glances and whispers he’s getting from the rest of the gathered clan, and the irritating eyebrow wiggles he’s getting from Jake, the wolfish yet encouraging grins he’s getting from the warriors that he had taken the alcohol from, but he’s not focusing on any of it. All of his attention is directed towards you as you lead the way towards the forest.

“You look… nice tonight.” He murmurs, low enough that it’s just you that can hear. It comes out awkward, but he means it genuinely.

You glance up at him, and your face relaxes into a smile. You look so damn sweet, clinging to his hand and beaming at him. His heart is thudding hard enough against his chest that he swears it should be visible from the outside, and his own mouth twitches into a hesitant smile in return.

“Yeah?” You ask, your little white teeth gleaming in the remnants of the firelight as you lead the way towards the forest. “I put on a little makeup to come see you.”

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, but he likes the idea of you doing something specially for him. He feels rather smug as he follows along after you, taking small steps to try to match your pace.

The two of you have only just reached the treeline when Tsu’tey hears a call of his name, and he pauses and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s Saeyla. She’s jogging after him, her ears pricked high in interest.

“Tsu’tey,” She says with a coy smile. “You are still coming to my kelku later?”

You pause at his side, turning to watch her approach. Tsu’tey feels flustered, though he can’t put his finger on why. Your gaze is intense when it comes to rest on the side of his face, waiting for his response.

“Yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, eager to be rid of her.

Saeyla smiles, satisfied, her eyes drifting once to you at his side before she turns and saunters away.

Pleased to be alone with you once more, Tsu’tey turns back to you. He can hardly contain his feelings; his ears keep twitching, his tail is coiling and flicking in anticipation, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you. It’s so far from his usual demeanour that it’s embarrassing, but you don’t seem to notice; you’ve never been very good at picking up on Na’vi body language.

You let go of his hand and start walking again faster than Tsu’tey had been expecting, and he jolts into action to try and catch up with you. Your lips are pursed, all glossy and very appealing, and Tsu’tey almost walks into a low-hanging tree bough as he’s staring at you.

His desire for you is simmering at a low boil in his belly, impossible to ignore. It makes him ungainly, clumsy with his limbs and his words, makes him uncharacteristically stupid.

How is he supposed to pursue this? The ways of Sky People confuse him, though he has tried his best to understand you and your ways of thinking. He doesn’t know the customs of human mating, and he doesn’t want to accidentally harm or offend you. Perhaps he would be better off waiting for you to make an advance, but to even think of you making such a move makes him feel so... vulnerable. It's terrifying.

It takes a few moments to realise that he’s been so lost in his own thoughts that he hasn’t noticed the silence that’s settled between the two of you. He clears his throat and increases his pace so that he’s fallen in stride with you.

“You are quiet, tawtute.” He says carefully, questioningly.

He’s not expecting you to scoff, nor shoot him such a bland, unimpressed stare.

“Are you being serious?” You demand.

Tsu’tey blinks. He’s surprised by your sudden change in mood, and wonders if he should be treading carefully now. These sudden attitude changes are bewildering; is this a human thing?

“Yes,” He says slowly. “I am being serious.”

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, promptly speeding up once more.

You don’t get very far – your legs are comically shorter than his, and it takes very little effort to keep up with you.

The outpost is not far from the village, and even with your short legs the two of you arrive at it in no time. To Tsu’tey’s confusion, you march up to the entrance with hardly a second glance at him.

“Tawtute—?” He begins, stepping after you as you ascend the little steps up to the door.

You whirl, startling him into taking a little step back.

“You’re going to Saeyla’s after this?” You demand.

Tsu’tey stares at you, wondering if you’ve gone mad. Why are you asking him this when you had been present for the conversation?

“Yes.” He says slowly. “She asked me to.”

You purse your lips again. “Saeyla, your old student?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey repeats, beginning to frown.

“Saeyla, who asked you to mate?”

“There is only one Saeyla in the clan.” Tsu’tey points out, a little confused.

Your nostrils flare, and he realises a moment too late that you do not like that answer at all. He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to salvage the conversation, but he doesn’t fully understand what you’re irritated about.

“She asked for help,” He says, keeping his voice low. “She wishes for help with her kelku.”

“No doubt.” You say archly, your eyes narrowing. “I guess she’s a friend of yours as well.”

Tsu’tey would not have gone so far as to call Saeyla a friend, but he supposes that she had made an extra effort to approach him to mend some of the awkwardness between them. Tsu’tey had always interpreted their relationship as a mentor-student one, so her abrupt confession the night before the clan had gone to war with the Sky People had taken him entirely by surprise.

“In a way.” He says, unsure how to express all of that.

Your funny little alien face seems to tremble for a moment, settling into an odd expression. Not for the first time, Tsu’tey wishes you had proper ears and a tail so that it would be easier for him to tell what you’re thinking.

“Right.” You say, your voice a little dull. “Well, that’s great.”

But then you turn around and march up to the door of the outpost, and it hisses open to let you in. Tsu’tey perks up, frowning. Are you leaving now? You’ve never left without giving him some kind of little hug or squeeze to his hand, or a promise to see him tomorrow.

“Tawtute—” He begins, but you don’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Tsu’tey.”

“I will see you tomorr—” He begins, but the door slides shut with a firm hiss before he can finish.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It takes most of the day before Tsu’tey realises that something is wrong.

Hardly a day has gone by in the last few months that you haven’t shown up at the village to watch him train and cook, or to entice him out swimming or walking or gathering. While it was once met with annoyance on Tsu’tey’s part, he has come to enjoy your company. He looks forward to your arrival now, his whole body primed and eager as he waits for you to come to the village.

But the following day, you’re nowhere to be seen.

You don’t arrive for the morning meal, and you never come to watch him train. He waits around in the afternoon, trying to look busy as he waits for you to come to the village. When you don’t show up, uneasiness begins to creep in.

He waits for dinnertime, but you don’t come to eat with him either.

He eats in silence, frowning broodily into the fire and casting frequent glances towards the forest as he waits to catch a glimpse of you. He has to deal with sympathetic and questioning glances from Jake and Neytiri all evening, which makes his skin itch. They don’t ask questions, which arguably makes it worse.

Tsu’tey doesn’t even make it to the end of the meal before he stands, making the decision to seek you out instead of waiting around.

“Good luck, man.” Jake mutters rather ominously.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother with a reply, abandoning his half-eaten food as he marches into the forest. He’s irritated to find that he’s worried. You had been in poor humour the night before, and he’s a little bit anxious about why.

It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that your mood and attitude had changed so drastically after the two of you had crossed the human boundary of nudity. Had he gone too far? Had you been uncomfortable? Perhaps you had realised that he was looking at you in a way that decidedly surpassed friendship, and you didn’t like it.

The outpost is a shoddy eyesore of human architecture, and it makes Tsu’tey’s nose wrinkle everytime he sees it. Despite all the time he’s spent with you, he rarely visits the outpost itself, but needs must.

It takes a frustratingly long moment for him to work out the mechanism of the door, and then he has to stand there with his tail whipping around impatiently as the door compresses shut and the atmosphere is forcibly converted to air that’s breathable for humans. When the second door opens up to allow him into the outpost itself, he muscles his way in and takes one of the stupid little masks to loop around his neck so that he can take infrequent sips of air.

The outpost is cluttered with demon technology and strange furniture, and Tsu’tey picks his way around the metal floor with his nose wrinkled. He dislikes the way it feels against his bare feet.

The first person that sees him is Norm, who’s sitting at one of the messy desks with his head in his hands. It’s rare to see him in his human form, his odd dreamwalker body tucked away for the night, but Tsu’tey grunts a greeting out nonetheless.

Norm doesn’t react the way he had expected. He jerks to his feet, eyes widening at the sight of him, and he blurts, “Oh, thank god. You’re here to apologise, right?”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he stares at Norm in some bewilderment. “Apologise?”

Norm doesn’t appear to hear him, too busy glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the outpost as he scurries a little closer.

“Man, she’s been upset all day.” Norm keeps his voice low, as though he’s worried you’ll hear. “Just—go in there and talk to her.”

Tsu’tey frowns, but he’s already drifting towards the back of the outpost. The shoddy building is split into several sections; one for working, one for recreation, one for sleeping. There’s probably more, but Tsu’tey has never bothered looking too closely at it. All he knows is that Norm has gestured to the back of the building, towards the sleeping area.

“She is resting?” He asks, keeping his voice low to match Norm’s.

Norm scoffs. “Uh, no, I wish. She got some of that fruit wine you guys drink at celebrations. She’s a little bit… uh…”

Ah. You have been drinking. Tsu’tey feels curiosity bubble up in his chest; he’s never seen you drunk before. In this moment, he wants to see nothing more.

“I will speak with her.” He murmurs, before leaving Norm behind in favour of ducking into the back section of the outpost.

The building is rickety and mostly partitioned with fabric curtains rather than the doors that the Sky People tend to favour. As such, Tsu’tey can hear the way Norm is shooing whatever other demons are left over out of the building, presumably to give him some privacy with you.

He finds you laid out in a bed near the back, floppy-limbed and sloe-eyed as you speak with another sky demon. You’re talking with your hands, clearly feeling very passionate about whatever the subject you’re discussing is.

Tsu’tey lets his eyes wander over you, enjoying the brief moment he has before you realise he’s there. You’re wearing thin white fabric shorts covered in some sort of blue pattern, and a small little top that only reaches your midriff. You look so comfy, so warm and soft in your cosy little bed as you drink Omaticayan fruit wine and complain to your friend. Tsu’tey feels a buzzing start up in his belly and the tips of his fingers; he wants to touch you so badly it hurts.

The other sky demon spots him first, her eyes widening at the sight of him as she leaps off the bed. It takes a beat longer for you to spot him, but then you’re scrambling to your feet as well.

“Tsu’tey—” You start, almost spilling the fruit wine in your hand all over your bed. “What are you—”

“You did not come to the village today.” He says before you can finish, stepping closer to your bed.

The ceilings in the outpost are high to accommodate the bodies of the dreamwalkers, so he towers over you as kneel up on your bed, frowning up at him. He feels his cock twitch; he knows he’s bigger than you, obviously, but the size difference between you feels so stark now that he’s looking at you all curled up in your bed, rumpled and a little disheveled from the wine.

“I’ll—I’ll see you later!” Your friend blurts, before turning and rushing out.

Satisfied now that he is alone with you, Tsu’tey allows himself to sink to his knees by your bedside. Even on his knees, he is slightly taller than you in your bed.

You look a little flustered, clutching your cup of wine to your chest as you blink at him with wide eyes. It draws his eyes to your breasts, and with a little thrill of delight he sees that the fabric is sheer enough for him to get a good look at the outline of your nipples all firmed up beneath your clothes.

He so rarely sees you without the mask, and he can’t help but notice how sweet your little face looks without the clear barrier. Your eyes are all glossy and a little hazy from the wine, and you’re looking up at him as though you can’t quite believe he’s there.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly. The moment feels so delicate, as though he might inadvertently shatter it with a raised voice, so he keeps his voice low and even as he reaches out to stroke over your squishy cheek with a single finger.

To his surprise, you jerk away from him, once again almost sloshing the wine all over yourself. You roll off the bed, holding your cup high, until you’re on your feet in front of him.

“Yes!” You say, and your voice comes out high-pitched and a bit shaky. “Fine, I’m fine. Why are you here?”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stares at you. You’ve never pulled away from his touches. It’s always been him that’s been jittery around you, nervous in case he hurts you or pushes too far. But now you’re wobbling away from him and avoiding his gaze, and that makes something that feels a lot like panic settle into his bones.

“You are upset.” Tsu’tey notes, shuffling a little closer to you on his knees as you retreat.

“No, no, everything is fine,” You’re insisting, visibly unsteady on your feet as you totter around. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

It shouldn’t be cute, but Tsu’tey is coming to admit to himself that he finds everything about you unnervingly endearing. He watches as you struggle to straighten out your rumpled little clothes, admiring the way the thin fabric clings to you. You look embarrassed and a little self-conscious, as though he’s caught you out.

“I was waiting for you,” He murmurs, reaching for you again. He keeps his hands slow, as though approaching a wounded nantang. You’re such a jittery little thing, but you don’t pull away this time, allowing him to place a hand carefully on your hip. “You did not come to see me today.”

“I figured you’d be busy.” You say, your tone snippy and a bit bratty. “Thought you’d go and hang out with Saeyla today.”

Tsu’tey stares at you. What does Saeyla have to do with this? Is this why you are so upset?

“Syulang,” He murmurs, foregoing his usual nickname for you for a much softer one. “You always have much to say. Please talk to me. I am not understanding why you are angry with me.”

For a moment, he thinks that you aren’t going to speak to him at all. But then you grip your little cup of wine and raise it to your lips, drinking one deep gulp before looking at him in the eye with fiery determination.

“I’m embarrassed,” You snap. “I’ve been basically throwing myself at you for months now, so excuse me if my ego is a little bit bruised. The least you could have done would be to let me down gently instead of letting me embarrass myself in front of everyone—”

Tsu’tey goggles at you, hardly able to believe what you’re saying. “Tawtute—”

“No,” You interrupt sharply, pointing your finger towards him. “Don’t. You said I could talk now.”

Tsu'tey falls obediently silent. His tail curls around his thigh; he’s a little surprised by the way he physically reacts to your sharp tone. He’s never heard you sound so firm before.

“I’ve been—I’ve been wearing all that silly makeup, and wearing all those skimpy tight clothes because I thought you’d look at me more!” You continue, your voice trembling a little. “I’ve been following you around like a pathetic puppy, and sitting in your lap at dinnertime, and holding your hand, and—and—”

You’ve been hoping for him to look at you more? Couldn’t you tell that all he ever did was look at you?

“And then you just tell me that I’m not attractive, and you toss me out of your lap, and tell me that we’re just friends, and you tell me right to my face that you’re going off to sleep with your ex-girlfriend—”

Tsu’tey sputters so hard at that that he nearly spits, horrified.

“I never—” He starts, his eyes wide as his tail curls under his legs, his ears pinning back.

“You did!” You burst out, teary-eyed. “When I was practically naked in front of you, I waited for you to say something, to give any sort of indication that you might like what you were seeing, but you just glared at me and said nothing at all!”

Ah. Tsu’tey has never hated his resting scowl as much as he does in this moment.

“And then yesterday! You said we’re just friends, then you threw me off your lap, and then you said you were going to Saeyla’s kelku right after walking me home—” You continue, beginning to really work yourself up.

“No!” Tsu’tey blurts, reaching out and grabbing at your hand. His blue palm engulfs your much smaller one, and he holds it as delicately as he can. “No, you have misunderstood, syulang.”

“God, I don’t even know why I like you,” You sniffle. “You’re so rude.”

“But you do,” Tsu’tey murmurs, his eyes still wide at the sheer novelty of it. “You like me. You cannot take it back now.”

“Oh, you’re such a dick,” You hiss, yanking your hand out of his. “Did you come here just to rub this in my face—”

“I threw you out of my lap because you were sitting on my cock and I didn’t want you to notice how hard you made me.” The words escape Tsu’tey’s mouth before he can think about it, but you finally fall silent.

You look a little stunned, actually, and Tsu’tey figures that he’d better start talking quickly before you come back to yourself and remember that you’re angry with him.

He pulls your cup out of your hand and raises it to his mouth, draining the wine in it himself in an effort to cultivate some liquid bravery. The taste bursts sharp and syrupy across his tongue. Of course, he thinks as he licks a dark drop from his lip, you would favour the cloying sweet wine. It suits you.

“Syulang, pretty girl, I do not like when you are upset.” He murmurs, shuffling closer on his knees. You don’t pull away, watching him come and allowing him to rest his hands on your hips. “Please listen.”

You’re still gaping at him, clearly a little thrown off by him stealing your wine from you. He takes advantage of your momentary silence by launching into his explanation. He hardly knows where to begin, but he decides to start with the most heinous accusation.

“I have never been intimate with Saeyla,” He murmurs, his thumbs stroking over your hips. “Never, tawtute. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time.”

Your throat bobs a little nervously, but you don’t interrupt.

“I have been taken with you for many, many months now,” He admits, and his ears flatten a little in embarrassment. He is not used to discussing his feelings, and it feels unnervingly vulnerable. “I know that I am grumpy, and rude, and I do not always express myself well. I have never been good at talking, and I can be too arrogant for my own good—”

You breathe out a shaky laugh and sway a step closer, as though you’re hardly aware what you’re doing. Tsu’tey’s grip tightens carefully on your hips, his breath catching in his chest as he urges you closer yet again.

“I have been so full of desire that it has been difficult to think,” He confesses in a low whisper. “It has been humiliating. I had thought— I did not want to scare you—”

He never gets a chance to finish his explanation. He’s partway through his sentence when you launch yourself into his arms, and he cuts himself off in favour of wrapping his arms around you to stop you from bowling the two of you over.

You start kissing his face all over, peppering eager little butterfly kisses all over the tanhì across his forehead and cheeks and all over his flat nose. He can’t help the delighted rumble that’s ripped out of his chest at the display of affection, and he tries to follow your lips with his face when you start to pull away.

“You’re so stupid,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey is so pleased that you’re smiling again that he doesn’t even feel offended about that. “I’ve been jumping in your lap and holding your hand every chance I’ve gotten. I took my clothes off and sunbathed practically naked with you, and showed you my tits—”

“I thought we were being friends.” He says thickly, leaning forward again in the hopes that you’ll give him another kiss. Even on his knees in front of you as you stand, he is so much larger and bulkier than you; it makes him want to tuck you away and keep you safe forever.

You groan, tilting your head back as though you’re in pain. “Tsu’tey. You’re killing me here.”

He can’t resist the temptation of your head tilted back with your throat bared, and leans forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. He rubs his cheek against your pulse point, feeling satisfaction bloom in his stomach as his scent is spread all over the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“I am sorry, syulang,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your pulse. He feels you shudder against him, and clutches you tighter. “I thought it was obvious how I felt. The whole clan knows. Do you not see how they watch us?”

The laugh that leaves your mouth is a little thready, and your hands come to rest on Tsu’tey’s shoulders for balance as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

“I thought they were looking at me,” You whispered. “Because I was so obvious about how I liked you.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head, trying to hide the silly grin on his face into your soft shoulder. You like him. All of those months of ridiculous pining and yearning and humiliating stifled desire, only to find out that you desired him too.

“So…” You whisper, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, you did like my piercings, then?”

Tsu’tey groans, his fingers spreading wide over your back as he pulls you closer. You’re so much smaller than him that his hand spans almost the whole width of your back, and his heartrate picks up as he feels your soft body press into him.

“Yes,” He murmurs, his ears pinning back in muted shame at the admission. “I liked them.”

The smile that breaks over your face at that is almost blinding, and he’s surprised by your enthusiasm when you grab at his jaw and haul his face closer so that you can capture his lips with your own.

The fact that he’s kissing you nearly stalls his brain, but then he feels the softness of your lips and the wet heat of your tongue, and it feels as though his nerves are set alight. He grunts, using the hand on your back to hold you close against him as he kisses you back eagerly.

He’s trying to be as cautious as possible, worried about hurting you, but you don’t seem to share his concern. In fact, your fervor surprises him. You push at his shoulders, and though you’re not strong enough to shift him he follows your unspoken order anyway, until you’ve guided him all the way back to your bed.

He gasps, his vision going a little blurry as you begin trailing kisses along his jaw. He grabs at the mask to take a few clumsy breaths of air, his body hot and tense as you kiss him.

“Bed,” You breathe, pushing at his shoulders. “Get on the bed.”

“Tawtute,” He says, swallowing thickly. “Should we— do you wish to take this slow?”

You pause then, pulling back a little so that you can level him with a look. He’s always found your strange little face difficult to read, but even he can tell that you look decidedly unimpressed right now.

“You think I want to take this slow?” You repeat, nose crinkling. But then your expression grows a little unsure, and you start to pull away. “Oh. Do you want to take this slow?”

“No.” Tsu’tey says, far too quickly.

The two of you just look at each for a moment, blinking. Then Tsu’tey stands, his knees slightly wobbly after kneeling before you for so long, and sinks down onto your bed. It’s a tight fit, the bulk of his body hunching forward slightly as his knees bunch up, but his slight discomfort is forgotten immediately when you climb up into his lap.

Over the last few months, you have sat in his lap many times. This time is different – this time, you’re straddling his crotch, your lovely thighs bracketing his hips as your soft bottom rests over his cock. You’re still kissing him, your soft lips trailing all over his jawline then up to his mouth again, swallowing the appreciative grunts that pour from his mouth.

When he had imagined this, often late at night with his cock in his hand, he had pictured you soft and eager and sweet – and you are all of those things, but nothing could ever have prepared him for how hungry you are, how impatient and greedy you are as you push him back onto your bed and follow him down. Your bodies are pressed so tight together that there’s hardly an inch of air, yet you seem determined to wriggle even closer.

Tsu’tey moans quietly, leaning back among your threadbare pillows as you do your best to devour him. Your mouth is small, but you happily open it wide as you lick into his mouth, your little tongue tracing over his sharp canines in a way that makes him shiver.

“Can’t believe we had this conversation when I’m in my fucking pajamas,” You murmur into his mouth, pressing your soft fabric-covered tits against his wide chest. “I wanted to be wearing something sexy for this.”

All he can do is close his eyes against the onslaught of your lips and teeth on the exposed skin of his neck. Your small hands smooth over the planes of his chest, hot and possessive as they crawl over the front of his body.

“You are very beautiful, syulang.” Tsu’tey breathes, his hands finding a firm hold on your waist as your weight settles over him.

Then you grind down, and he’s already so aroused but now he can feel the heat of your pussy through those tiny damn shorts of yours and the noise that’s torn from his chest is completely undignified.

He grabs at you. It’s rough and presumptuous and honestly Tsu’tey isn’t even sure it’s a conscious decision, but before he knows it he’s grabbed you by the waist and is pulling you down to grind against his cock.

“Fuck,” You gasp, and Tsu’tey nearly loses it. “Oh god.”

You shuffle back a little, and Tsu’tey nearly audibly whines when he loses that glorious friction over his cock. But it turns out that you’ve only moved so that you have access to his loincloth, which you promptly begin to pull at.

“Mawey, yawntutsyìp.” He croaks out, though he’s already flexing his hips to help you pull his tewng off.

“Been wanting this for ages, you have no idea—”

Tsu’tey swears his head is spinning at the sheer irony of that, because he could have been experiencing this for ages?

His cock is freed from his tewng, slapping against his stomach with an embarrassingly loud smack. When you see how big he is, your eyes widen, and Tsu’tey has a horrible moment of panic where he worries that you’re going to change your mind. He would only be able to accept that choice, but he already knows that it will leave him with the worst case of blue balls he’d ever experienced.

But you don’t let his no doubt intimidating size stop you from reaching out with your small hands to stroke him. A guttural growl is pulled from him, and he tilts his head back against your soft bedding and bites hard at his lip in an effort to control himself as you stroke at him.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You breathe, your expression nothing short of delighted as you stare down at him. He feels vulnerable under your gaze, naked in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve pulled his tewng off him.

He reaches out, tugs at your top. “I wish to see you, again.”

That makes you smile. The little fabric top you’re wearing is so thin that he can see the outline of your breasts and little nipples already, and as you lean forward to tug at his cock it gapes open at the chest to give him a tantalising glimpse of your bare flesh, but it’s not enough. He wants to see you bare and wanting beneath him. Or on top of him. He’s not fussy.

When you pull your flimsy little fabric covering off, Tsu’tey feels as though he goes momentarily light-headed as his blood rushes south. He’s seen you like this before, that day at the river, but this is different. This time, he’s allowed to touch.

You’re as soft as he’d imagined – softer, even. Tsu’tey’s hands are eager, reaching up to grope and feel, and you tilt your head back and moan softly as he kneads at your delightfully squishy breasts. He just can’t get over how perfect and pliable you are, your supple skin moulding and giving around his hands. He’s never experienced anyone as soft as you; the Na’vi are bigger than the Sky People, and stronger too. His people do not have the same shape, are not soft in the same places as humans. And he’s never thought too much about it, but now he feels like he’s losing himself in your supple flesh.

And then there’s the delicate little barbells in your nipples. Tsu’tey stares, wanting so badly to touch but nervous about going too hard or fast and accidentally hurting you.

“Remember I said they were just to look good?” You breathe, pressing forward a little to encourage his hands to roam over your tits.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey grunts mindlessly. He does recall something of the sort, but he doesn’t think it is fair that you expect him to think when he has your tits in his hands like this, one hand almost spanning your entire chest.

“I lied,” You whisper, your lips curving up in a smile so cheeky that it makes Tsu’tey’s toes curl. “They feel good, too.”

Tsu’tey groans, running his fingers slowly across your skin before finally touching the piercings, his touch smooth and warm.

A low moan of contentment escapes him. "Soft skin. Pretty piercings."

His hands cup your breasts as his thumbs brush over your nipples. You were telling the truth about them; the piercings make you sensitive, and when you shiver under his hands, his gaze darkens.

"I want them in my mouth." He says suddenly, his voice rough and gravelly. His thumbs swipe over them yet again, and he looks up eagerly to you to wait for your permission as you sigh.

You laugh, though it's a breathless and weak sort of a thing. You’re trying to play it cool and casual, but Tsu’tey is holding your soft little breasts in his hands – he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his palm. "Go on, then."

He doesn't waste any time before he's bending his head and pressing harsh, biting kisses all along your chest. Then, getting sick of bending his neck down, he grabs at the flesh of your ass and hauls you up into his arms so that he can mouth at your nipples in earnest.

He licks over your left breast, feeling the little metal barbell against his tongue. It must feel good because you whine, arching your back and pushing your tits into his face even more. Your skin is so soft and sensitive, and it makes his rough tongue and big hands feel clumsy and coarse.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, his tongue playing with the strange little balls at the end of the bars. The metal is cool against his tongue, offering a pleasant contrast to your heated flesh.

“Ungh, shit,” You gasp, your little hands winding into his braids and gripping him there. “Tsu’tey… I wanna suck your cock.”

Tsu’tey freezes, his eyes going wide. Those words rock through him like a physical punch, and he groans as his cock visibly twitches against his stomach. He knows you can feel it, considering you’re still straddling him, and you begin to wiggle your way back as you try to get your face down to his crotch.

But as soon as you get your little hand on his cock, panic shoots through him. It feels good, so good, but he’s sure if you actually put it in your mouth he’ll die. He already knows that if you get your mouth on him everything will be over far too quickly, and he’s not ready to tap out just yet.

He grabs you and rolls, until you’re on your back staring up at him with a surprised little pout.

“I want that, tawtute,” He admits, his voice coming out in a gravelly rumble as he presses a careful kiss to your pouting lips. “But later.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He’s too busy kissing your strange, alien little face, then down over your throat. You’re so addictive already. He wants to fuck you and have the whole clan listen, he wants to suck on your tits and have you crying, he wants to play with your clit until it’s puffy and swollen, he wants to play with your cute little hole, he wants to see you bouncing on his cock, on your hands and knees… He feels like he’s been set alight with desire, like the blood in his veins has turned molten.

His fingers hook into your little shorts and pull at them, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off. To his delight, you’re not wearing your tiny little fabric covering under them, and his tail whips in excitement at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Oh,” He breathes, shuffling himself down your bed. It’s a narrow fit, and cramped, but Tsu’tey doesn’t care; his attention is fixed on you and the way your legs are spreading to accommodate the bulk of his body.

He takes in the sight of you eagerly, bare and glistening wet, and grinding against nothing, and he realises in that moment that his imagination could never have lived up to reality.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He mumbles mindlessly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your lovely plush inner thigh. “Going to make you feel so good, syulang.”

“Okay.” You sigh, the word coming out a little wobbly.

Tsu’tey’s tail whips from side-to-side as he gazes at your bare cunt, still hardly able to believe that you’re giving him access to you like this, that you like him too. It feels too good to be true, but Tsu’tey is not about to let this opportunity to pass him by.

“So pretty, yawntutsyìp.” He kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his flat nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until he’s drowning in you.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer, desperate to drink his fill of you.

But even better than how you taste, is how you react.

You’re up on him so fast he barely has time to blink – no sooner has he laid his lips on your pussy, his mouth so big that it almost swallows you whole, than your hips are bucking up into his face. All he can smell and taste is you, and you’re so fucking wet and suddenly you’re rutting up against his face, not even caring if Tsu’tey’s mouth is open or not, as though you’re so desperate for him that all you can do is use him.

It’s the best day of Tsu’tey’s life. He’s going to mark this day and religiously celebrate it every year.

“Tsu’tey –!” You gasp, rutting your hips into his face. A wild, somewhat unhinged part of him hopes you break his nose. He uses his tongue against your clit and lets you rub yourself all over him, making his brain feel so blissfully empty.

He just moans into you, his hands wrapping around your plush hips and gripping at your squishy little bottom for leverage as he pulls you back against his face. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue laving over your hole, over and over and over, delighting in the way you gasp and moan and grind into his mouth.

His tail coils as his arousal pulses, forgetting himself as his fingers clench into your soft skin. You sigh, and drop your head back against the pillows as you move your hips to push your pussy back against his tongue. When he spears his tongue into you, you whine, but the sound is muffled somehow—

You’ve bitten your pillow, Tsu’tey realises, and groans. He wants so badly to get his hands on himself, to stroke and tug at his cock as he devours you, but he can’t bring himself to let go of you. He feels as though he’ll die if he lets go of your squishy ass, and his fingers knead insistently at it as he dines on your cunt.

He fucks his tongue into you harder, mouth open and jaw aching in the most satisfying way. It’s all worth it when Tsu’tey realises that you’re crying, just softly, your moans and whines wet, your breaths choked.

Tsu’tey’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open. Once the digits are wet, he pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch. You cry out, your thighs twitching as he stretches you out.

Your whimpering makes him feel bold, his cock weeping against his thigh. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He wants you to break— to crumble into pieces just so he can put you back together.

“Tsu’tey,” You slur out, your fingers gripping at his braids as you writhe under his attention. “Need to slow down, or I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

Your words fall on deaf ears; Tsu’tey is practically hypnotised by your little whimpers and cries as he sucks and licks eagerly at your squishy wet pussy, his fingers twisting and rubbing all along your hot, clutching insides. He feels desperate to experience you come against his tongue, and his movements take on an edge of fervor as he opens his mouth wide to suck your whole cunt into his mouth.

You squeal, hips bucking, and your feet kick out until they’ve landed on his shoulders. Tsu’tey moans, pleased by your reaction, and his mouth seals firmly around you as his tongue laps at your clit.

Your thighs suddenly clench around his head, keeping it in place, and he increases his pace, keeping it rhythmic for you. He buries his nose into your little swollen clit, letting out a hungry little noise as he sucks at you.

And then you’re gasping, the line of your body going taut and stiff as your orgasm rolls through you. Tsu’tey doesn’t relent, sucking and licking at you as you tremble and shake apart. Your release tastes so sweet, like hot syrup on his tongue, and he can’t get enough of you. Your thighs grip his head so hard that the muscles tremble, and he relishes the pressure of your legs squeezing around his skull.

It doesn’t take long before your legs are kicking again, wheezing as you grow oversensitive and push at his head. With great reluctance, Tsu’tey pulls his mouth away with a wet ‘pop’, licking his lips before leaning in to suckle a series of biting kisses around your inner thighs.

He feels a little light-headed, still so hungry. He knows his eyes are heavy-lidded with his own arousal, his whole body throbbing with the need to take you, but he’s trying so damn hard to control himself.

“Oh god… fuck.” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

That certainly strokes Tsu’tey’s male pride, and he looks up at you with a pleased, if slightly dazed, smile. He’s breathing heavily still from having devoted his entire attention to pleasing you and forgetting to breathe, and it takes a moment for him to realise he needs to sip from the stupid mask. He fumbles for a moment, grabbing at it and taking several deep breaths before dropping it again and leaning up to kiss at your cute little lower belly.

“It was good?” He asks. Judging by the look on your face he knows the answer, but he can’t help but want to hear it straight from your mouth.

You laugh, a little disbelievingly, then place a hand onto his chest and push lightly at him until he’s rolling over onto his back. You follow, swinging your leg over his hips and settling down so that your spit-slick pussy is nestled right up against his hard cock.

“So good,” You whisper, and it practically comes out like a purr. “So fucking good.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls and his ears fold back, his stomach swooping in anticipation at the coy tone of your voice. His cock twitches too, very interested in the way you’re sitting on it. When you rock your hips lightly, allowing your slick pussy to glide along his length, he groans breathily before reaching to grab at your waist, trying to hold you still.

“Wait, syulang.” He says, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. “You are so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s not expecting you to laugh at that, as though he’s said something that you find adorable. You lean in and kiss him, your lips soft against his hot, swollen ones.

“You’re not the first Na’vi I’ve had,” You whisper against his mouth, giving him yet another sweet kiss. “I know what I’m doing.”

He bristles at the thought of another Na’vi hunching over your little body, rutting into your hot wet softness. His hands tighten around your waist as a bolt of possessive jealousy flashes through him.

“Who?” He demands, his face scrunching up in a scowl.

You just giggle, leaning down to kiss the wide bridge of his nose. Tsu’tey’s ears fold down, a little mollified by how cute you are, though his scowl doesn’t lessen much. Your hand runs over his chest, your fingers stroking over his heated skin.

“Oh, shush.” You say with a fond smile, as though you think he’s joking. “What, did you expect me live like a nun while you were ignoring me all that time? I didn’t even think you liked me.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t know what a nun is, but he’s distracted before he can ask. You lean down slowly, running the tip of your tongue along his throat. You pause to bite him gently right where his vein pulses, and the rush of sensations from your touch nearly sends him spiraling.

“Besides,” You whisper, “I feel like you just sucked my soul out through my pussy, so I really don’t think anyone else is ever going to compare.”

The purr that your words pull out of him at that is embarrassing, but his body reacts before his brain does. Yes, he thinks smugly, I am better. It feels incredibly important to him that you know he is the best option, the man that can please you best.

Tsu’tey feels like he’s melting under you. The heat of your bare slick cunt against the length of his cock is fanning a fire in his blood. He bites at his lip as he feels your lips on his pulse, harder now, kissing softly, tongue flicking against the skin.

Your hand slides lower, and then finally your hand wraps around the base of his cock. He groans, bucks up, but didn’t mean to. Thankfully you just laugh, obviously amused as you’re lifted up by the momentum of his hips.

“Tsu’tey, baby,” You whisper, and oh, your voice is going to drive him insane. “Does it hurt, being this hard?”

Tsu’tey openly chokes, and you give him one slow stroke. The feeling of your small soft hand against him has his mind blanking entirely for a second. You pause to rub your thumb under his cockhead, against the bundle of nerves there, and Tsu’tey moans as his eyes flutter shut.

“Pretty boy,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey gasps, feeling his lip quiver. He cracks his eyes open, just to see you smiling down at him. “Do you like when I call you pretty?”

Tsu’tey looks away and says nothing – but you just giggle.

“You’re pouting, Tsu’tey.”

“I am not.” He grumbles, though his cheeks are uncomfortably warm.

Your hands move, one stroking around his cock, the other cradling his balls. Tsu’tey arches, pushes into your hand as you twist your fist around his glans. His mouth falls open, a breathy moan escaping, and you visibly shiver. He tries to push himself up on his elbows so that he can watch as you shift atop him, hips rocking forward gently as you stroke at him.

“Syulang,” He manages, licking at his lips as his voice comes out all breathy and desperate. “Please.”

You grin at him, your eyes soft and affectionate as you watch him disintegrate beneath your touch. Then you’re lifting up onto your knees, using his chest as leverage, and Tsu’tey holds his breath as you position yourself over his cock.

“Breathe, baby.” You laugh, taking his mask and holding it up to his face.

He takes several deep breaths, feels the blurred edges of his mind sharpen, and reaches down to grab his cock. He helps you to position it, his cockhead gliding along your slick folds.

He has to pause for a moment, closing his eyes as his ears flatten back against his head. You’re so damn soft, your cunt is so hot and sticky wet, and he already knows that the moment his cock pushes inside of you he’ll be fighting for his life not to come instantly. He just wants to last long enough to please you, to make you feel good.

You let out a soft noise, your hips twitching as you try to hump your pussy back onto his cock. He has to grab your hips to keep you still, grunting.

“You’re teasing.” You whine, clutching at his arms as you try to wiggle your way back onto him.

“Mph.” Tsu’tey grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to contain himself. “Mawey, syulang. Patience.”

But patience doesn’t seem to be your strong suit. Your bright eyes have gone dark, pupils blown, forehead glimmering with sweat – you look beautiful, and Tsu’tey feels like he’s dying.

You lean forward and crash your mouth into his, kissing him hard and messy as you wriggle in his lap, trying to coax his cock inside you. Tsu’tey moans into your mouth, but then you’re pulling back, and your lips press against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

Still breathing deeply, Tsu’tey aligns his cock against your pussy, and at the same time as his sweet girl peppers his face with kisses, he begins to push inside. You whine at the pressure of the stretch, your forehead pressed against his as he presses his cock into you slowly, as slowly as he can manage.

“Come on,” You groan, leaning forward and letting your blunt little teeth scrape over the sensitive tip of his ear. “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

“Calm,” Tsu’tey gasps, clutching at your plush little hips in an effort to keep you from slamming yourself down on him all at once. “Calm, yawntutsyìp, I do not wish to hurt you—”

But his words are lost when you shift over him right as he begins to press into you again, and from one second to the next he slides half-way inside, past the small ring of resistance and into the velvety hot inside of your cunt.

It’s like a gut punch.

He moans like a dying man and holds you as tight as he can in an attempt to ground himself enough not to start thrusting. You gasp, your features scrunching into a pained wince as you’re split wide around the thickness of his cock. He doesn’t need you to vocalise your discomfort, so he rubs your puffy clit to try and make it better for you. His calloused thumb rubs slow circles on it at the same time as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting and whimpering.

Fuck, he needs to move.

Just a bit –

Just to take the edge off –

His hips pull back and then quickly snap forward again. “Fuck.”

It’s so easy it’s sinful. He pushes through the tightest cunt he has ever been in and it feels like home. He groans roughly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t help but look down, and he almost whimpers at the sight of your cunt stretched wide around his thick length, at the aborted little twitching of your hips as you try admirably hard to take him in deeper. You’re so much tighter than he expected, and it takes everything in him to pull back again.

When he withdraws, your pussy grips him all the way to the tip, making him feel so insane he had to immediately dive back in, gasping. He’s too big to fit inside of you completely, but that’s okay; your tiny pussy grips hard enough at the length that you can take that Tsu’tey feels like he’s about to black out.

“Yes!” You cry out, arching your chest against his so that he can feel the cool sensation of your piercings against his skin, your fingers knotting into his braids as you lift yourself up then down on his cock, meeting his sloppy thrusts.

Tsu’tey feels as though the world is fracturing around him as he pushes himself into your tiny little cunt, feeling your pussy clench around his cock like a fist. It's so tight and sweet, his dick feels as though it's being pulled into paradise.

Being inside you is heavenly; it’s like your sweet little pussy is made for him, molding to him and stretching where it needs to, squeezing him tight to the point of pain. He pistons in and out of you from below, finding his own pace as the bed shakes from the force of his thrusts. You make soft, wet little sounds, a wanton creature in response in response as you undulate atop of him.

Your tits bounce every time he thrusts up into you, and he finds his eyes glued to sight before his self-control cracks and he’s leaning forward to take one of your breasts into his mouth. It takes a bit of contortion, his spine curving as his mouth locks around your tit, his tongue rolling against your little pierced nipple, his ears wiggling eagerly as they pick up your little mewls.

Oh, he’s not going to last long; he already feels like he’s losing his mind.

Soft, desperate little noises are babbling out of your mouth as you fuck yourself down on his cock, clutching at his shoulders for balance. Your jaw is slack and your mouth is open, and Tsu’tey can see flashes of your little pink tongue as you gasp and whimper everytime he rolls his hips up into you. Your movements have taken on an edge of desperation as you ride him, your pussy squeezing him so tight his vision is going blurry.

Then your little body is seizing, weak gasping moans spilling from your lips as your spine goes stiff. Your cunt clenches in sporadic little pulses, and Tsu’tey nearly roars at the intensity of it – your pussy sucks so tight that it almost hurts. It’s a weaker orgasm than your first one, but you still sob your way through it as you clutch at him.

“Oh, syulang, fuck.” Tsu’tey grits out, the human curse word sounding coarse and foreign on his tongue.

He wants to do this forever, to stay buried in you all night, but you’re sucking him in and clinging to him in a vice grip as you push back against him, and he’s about to explode. He’s overwrought, grunting against your sweat-damp skin as he clutches your soft little body close to him, the motion of his hips turning jerky and sloppy as he feels that tingly pressure grow in his stomach.

He lifts you off his cock with a cut-off snarl, grabbing at his cock with a clumsy hand as that pressure bubbles over. He comes with more force than he had been expecting, his come spurting out onto your belly and over your tits, dripping steadily over your smooth skin.

Part of him is a little embarrassed about how quickly he had come, but the larger part of him feels it was impressive that he didn’t spill the instant he got his cock inside of you. But you’re pouting up at him, clutching at his chest as you push back against him.

“No,” You whine, your voice quiet and tired as you try to grind your messy pussy back onto him. “Wanted you to come inside.”

Tsu’tey is already breathless, but the sweet little whimper in your voice nearly knocks him flat yet again. His cock is still throbbing, the last few drops of his release spurting out and glowing lightly against your skin. He takes in the sight of his seed spattered across your pretty little body greedily, committing it to memory. Nothing in his raunchiest wet dreams could have compared to the reality of this moment.

“We will have time for that, yawntutsyìp,” He whispers, his stomach clenching in excitement at the thought. “You will not need another man again.”

You grumble lightly, but he can see the satisfied little smile on your face as you go limp in his arms, burrowing closer to his chest as you collapse down next to him. Having you in his arms feels perfect; his tail curls in satisfaction when he realises how perfectly you fit against his chest, and he purrs smugly as he nudges his nose against your temple.

He rolls, scooping you up and arranging you so that you’re laying sprawled at his side, before curving his body around yours and wrapping an arm around your little body. Your body is still glistening with sweat and the dimly bioluminescent streaks of come that Tsu’tey has left on you – he’s torn between the urge to care for you, to clean you up and make sure that you’re sated and pleased, and to leave you marked and carrying his scent.

He’ll clean you up in a few minutes, he decides, allowing himself to enjoy the sight of you after being thoroughly claimed for a little while longer.

“If you ever say we’re just friends again I’ll kick your ass.” You mumble, pressing your face into his pectoral muscles.

You’re acting as though your bones have been dissolved into jelly, laying all limp and pliable against him even as you squirm closer. Tsu’tey allows himself to just stare at you, admiring all the subtle little bite-marks and bruising that he can’t remember leaving behind, admiring your puffy nipples and your still gooey cunt.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey hums, dipping his head down and laying it carefully on your chest. He’s a little nervous that he’ll be too heavy, but your small hands come up to tangle in his braids and scratch soothingly at his scalp. He allows his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the plush softness of your breasts under his face.

“I like you very much, syulang.” He says, enjoying the pulse of your heartbeat beneath his head. “I am sorry that I have been slow to understand your interest.”

You laugh a little sleepily, craning your neck so that you can kiss his forehead before laying back again. “You certainly did a good job showing me your interest just now.”

“I will do more,” Tsu’tey promises, hardly even aware of what he’s saying. “I will collect kllpxiwll berries for you everyday, and go swimming as often as you like, and make you pretty jewelry, and keep you satisfied—”

You start to laugh before he even finishes.

“Who would’ve known a big grumpy asshole like you is capable of being so romantic.” You snicker as he nuzzles into your tits.

Your lack of a tail and blunt ears make it hard for him to read you, but he can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him. He just curls around you, not minding at all. He enjoys the thought of proving to you exactly how romantic he can be – he has much to prove, and much to make up for.

“I am not grumpy now.” He mutters, turning his face so that it’s buried neatly in between your tits. He licks lazily over your left breast, savouring the feeling of the little silver barbell nestled in your nipple against his tongue.

You shiver, a soft little overwhelmed gasp escaping your lips as he kisses leisurely at your puffy and oversensitive nipples.

“No,” You murmur, and he can hear the fondness in your voice. “You’re not.”

Tsu’tey purrs, his whole body curving around you as he kisses absent-mindedly at your tits, his thoughts pleasantly hazy and somewhat nebulous.

“Breathe.” You remind him tiredly, your voice a little slurred around the edges with sleep.

Upon your urging, he lifts the stupid mask back up to his face and fits it clumsily over his mouth and nose. He wraps his arm around your waist, holds you tight, and just breathes as the two of you lay together, sated and satisfied.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x human reader #tsu'tey x reader #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human reader #terato #alien x reader #fics

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davidtennantgenderenvy · 4 months

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On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

#David tennant #doctor who #the tenth doctor #the fourteenth doctor #good omens #crowley #shakespeare #around the world in 80 days #phileas fogg #pro aging #growing old

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2af-afterdark · 3 months

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"Would You Love Me if I Was A Worm?": The Kings' + Minhyeok + Angel Answers Versus the Truth

A/N: I need some random, goofy fluff. Please don't look at me.

Satan

“I don’t know.”

Honestly, Satan is the kind of guy who couldn’t answer you because, well, you aren’t a worm. How would he know if he’ll still love you? In reality, he would probably love you in a sense of the word. He would definitely take care of you and kick anyone who dared to get too close to his worm, because you know half of Hell would still be obsessed with you.

Mammon

“My master as a worm? How amusing.”

When he said he belonged to you, he meant it. Human or worm, that will always be true. So, yes, he would still love you as a worm. You would live in a worm palace and have all the pleasantries you could ever desire. He’d set you on his desk when he’s working and carry you around when he’s out. You are not some mere pet that stays at home when he leaves. You will always be at his side and pampered to an absolutely terrifying degree.

Leviathan

Yeah, he’s going to glare at you because the question is nonsensical and really dumb. He doesn’t even answer it because it’s a waste of oxygen to do so.

Except the truth is that he would be the only one caring for you because he’d get jealous if anyone else tried to. The emotion isn’t exactly romantic love, but he loves you even as a worm regardless. You are his special little worm. He takes good care of you, although he’s not much nicer to you as a worm than he is when you’re human.

Beelzebub

“What a weird question. Sure.”

He says he would love you if you were a worm, but we all know that he would forget about you whenever he leaves the palace for more than 2 hours. All your care would fall on Bael, just like everything else does. He would definitely pay attention to you when he remembers to come home though. He would probably give you apple slices and watch you for a while whenever he returns. His feelings would probably be more akin to fascination than love; like watching a squirrel in the wild, except you're a worm in a terrarium. That’s sort of a form of love… Sort of.

Minhyeok

“Yes!”

Honestly, he responds before you’ve even finished the question. You got to “would you love me” and he already knew the answer. He will love you no matter what. He would want to be a worm too so he could be your worm husband and start a worm family with you.

Gabriel

“No.”

Why are you asking him this? He wants to kill you! A worm sounds really easy to kill. On second thought, sure. He’d love it if you were a worm… For about five seconds before you weren’t anything anymore.

Michael

“How tragic that you want a form different than the one God blessed you with.”

Again, he wants to kill you! Please stop harassing Heaven to ask weird questions. He doesn’t love you now, let alone if you suddenly became a completely different creature. He’s actually insulted by the question. Why are you like this? Yes, he would definitely be fighting Gabriel over who gets to kill your adorable little worm form.

Raphael

“Do you plan on being one? I'm sure I could keep you.”

The man is kind of obsessed, honestly. Look at how cute you are as a worm; truly the most beautiful worm in the world. Man would treat you like a pet but still expect your little worm self to show him affection. He wouldn’t want to leave home and would spend waaaaay too long watching you all day. Also, he would sleep next to you, even if that meant sleeping in the dirt. The man is weird.

#2af writes #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beelzebub #whb minhyeok #whb gabriel #whb michael #whb raphael

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 months

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Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #lambert #this is for my lambert loving homies #you know who you are #descarada writes

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catmansquad · 7 months

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Special

Miguel X M!Reader (Since we're apparently drowning in an influx of Spider-woman Reader stories, and the M!Reader tag hasn't moved in a few days. Here's a Civilian Male to counterbalance it.)

Lyla had asked on three separate occasions if there was anything to do to help you. The first was likely her just taking note of how you stared out of the window, the last two had occurred at exactly a half-hour interval, and it was a toss-up in your mind as to if it had become part of her routine, or Miguel had sent her to check in on you. The view from the window was the same it always had been; fascinating, futuristic. The city had been bright and shining; sleek spires, clean streets, the gentle whizz of traffic above the pedestrians below, between lanes of hard-light. But now the skies were grey and overcast, like the weather was determined to suck all the colour out of this magnificent world. You watched the first droplets run down the glass, more appearing with each second until the downpour truly began. You were not looking for anything in particular, you saw your own reflection in the glass as much as you saw the city beyond. Your eyes trailed down your form, resting on the bracelet that was secure on your left wrist. You could feel its faint, barely perceptible hum, keeping you from violently, painfully disappearing from this beautiful world altogether. This was not your world, not your city, and certainly not your home. That honour belonged to another altogether.

You were surprised when another half-hour elapsed and Lyla did not return to check in on you again. The reason was only realized when you caught the glint of red eyes in the reflection. Huge hands gently rested on your shoulders, fingers giving a firm, reassuring squeeze. ‘¿Qué pasa, mi corazón? Lyla tells me you’ve just been… staring out the window for the past hour.’ You exhaled a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes from the cityscape and turning to find the tall, broad form before you. Miguel moved a hand to stroke your cheek, his gaze was soft with concern. ‘… Please, tell me what’s wrong. You’re not yourself… I know it’s miserable out, but even so-‘ ‘… Why me, Miguel?’ You asked the question that froze the larger man’s voice in his throat, you met his gaze, seeing his eyes widen in concern. ‘How did I…? Why did you choose me? Out of all the worlds, and all the people you chose me.’ His crimson gaze searched your face, concerned and curious. ‘I chose you because I love you.’ His words were soft, voice low.

You did not resist as he took you by the wrist and led you from the window, to the soft white sofa that befit the minimalist, monochromatic décor his apartment so favoured. ‘I don’t see what’s so special about me, I’m just a… A regular guy. Every day you spend at your job, you see… hundreds and thousands of spectacular Spider-Women. You… Wouldn’t you be better off with one of them?’ Miguel’s gaze narrowed, just a fraction, then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘No. Oh, they think they have a chance with me. They buzz and flutter around me like irritating gnats who tell terrible jokes. They all think they’re the funniest person in the room with tragic backstories and special circumstances….’ He paused to hum in thought, impossibly strong arms circling around your waist as he pulled you into his lap, against his broad, warm chest that filled out the familiar soft white hoodie. ‘I tell them all the same thing; I am in love with a regular, wonderful man. There is nothing that they can do to change my heart, not in this world or any other. You have my heart…’ His lips ghosted across your own as your tensions began to ease away, taking doubts with it. ‘… You always will. You don’t need to be special, because you’re the man I love. To me, you’re already the most special person in existence.’ He gave no room for reply as his lips met yours, imparting tender love and warmth where words would not suffice. You hummed in delight at his kiss, and then returned it with vigor, arms snaking slowly across his shoulders and around his neck, fulfilling that need to be closer and return the love shown.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader

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watchmorecinema · 5 months

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Yukio Mishima has been trending this week for uh, reasons. He was a world renowned Japanese author and all of his work is overshadowed by his actions on November 25, 1970. You might not want to read more about this guy because he is horrible and disgusting, but he's utterly fascinating and the movie about him is brilliant.

He's a really interesting character, to the point that he sounds fictional. He's gay, obsessed with ritualistic death, a right wing lunatic, led a private militia that was halfway to a cult, and also was a legitimately great author. His life is covered in the film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and it's easily the most beautiful film I've seen in my life. Look at the stills I posted above; every frame of this movie looks like that. It's all just a series of beautiful paintings with people living in them.

The way the film is structured is that it tells the story of his life in three ways. His past is told in black and white flashbacks with static cameras. This is closer to how a movie from the 50's would look like (specifically ones directed by Yasujirō Ozu). The events of three of his books are told with this beautifully stylized look, with sets that look like stage plays. The events of November 25, 1970 is told in an almost normal fashion, with regular colors and competent camerawork. The past is nostalgic, the present is mundane and only in fantasy can you truly come alive.

Through this movie we see the ideology of Mishima coming through. His nationalism, his sexual feelings and his thoughts on beauty and death all come together. Death isn't just a violent and tragic end, it is in itself a beautiful act. Beauty is the only true goal of life and creating beauty brings honor. Growing old and ugly is an act of hate; to die at your peak is to give love back to the world. It is therefore treasonous to live long enough to die peacefully. He pities what heaven must look like now; when men died young and beautiful it was paradise, but now it is filled with old men.

This is an objectively insane way to view the world but it is also fascinating. How much of this was what he believed, and how much of it was just begging for attention? In one instance when asked why he moved to the right politically he said "because the left was full". It was a joke answer, but he clearly wanted to be in the spotlight. His shield society was a paramilitary group dedicated to living a virtuous life of beauty, honor and old ideals. It was also a group of good looking, athletic young men led by a (barely) closeted, conservative gay man. So much of his life could have gone differently but also he was pretty much in control the whole time; he was independently wealthy and revered on the world stage. He could do whatever he wanted, and apparently the way his life went *is* what he wanted.

What's special about Mishima, both in the film and in real life, is that he's a smart and eloquent guy. In films the guy with a crazy worldview is someone like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver or D-Fens from Falling Down. Travis couldn't understand the alienation and loneliness he felt and he couldn't find any healthy solutions. D-Fens was smart enough but not emotionally strong enough to confront his problems or deal with them maturely. These are people that could benefit greatly from therapy (other examples include Joker from Joker, Rupert Pupkin from the King of Comedy, Frank Murdoch from God Bless America, Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, Tyler Durden from Fight Club and so, so many more).

These are either 20 something year olds that are lost in the world, alienated and lonely, or 40 something year olds with a mid life crisis when they realize that everything has fallen apart. People who don't know where to go, or realize it's too late to change things. Travis Bickle had basically no friends, no family, no charisma with women and a lot of rage and anger. D-Fens lost his job, his self respect and was estranged from his ex-wife and daughter. These are people who's lives are shit at best (Patrick Bateman is a bit of a subversion. He is rich and successful, but his life is completely hollow, his relationships are shallow and he personally is very, very pathetic. I need to write about American Psycho later that film is great too.).

Mishima is different. He's smart enough to understand his issues and how to find help. He's got the money and means to do so. He's famous and rich enough that he could basically get away with anything weird or eccentric so long as it was harmless. On the world stage he was a popular author, and at home he led a life of political activism. If he was unhappy he could easily find healthy ways to fix it. His self destruction was the most avoidable of any of them, yet he's the only one that existed in real life. You expect these people to have serious personality flaws and unfixable (or seemingly unfixable) problems, not to be poetic writers that adhere to healthy living and regularly journal about their emotions, while enjoying respect from their peers and fulfillment in their work.

It's a hell of a film. Paul Schrader has not written or directed anything better (he actually wrote Taxi Driver too, so he had some experience with this type of character before) and it stands out as an incredible experience to watch. Like, Mishima's life is public knowledge and you can probably guess how it went, but I've purposefully not said what happened on November 25, 1970 because I don't want to spoil it. It's an event that actually happened but it's better for you to find out via the film than some wikipedia page.

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bunnywan · 7 months

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i get that when it comes to writing fiction you as the author have complete control of the story you want to write and don’t have to take canon into account at all but considering who anakin is on top of you not even really giving a shit about anakin why write obikin at all (you’re obviously not the only obikin writer and i’m sorry for only asking you but i would really like to understand the appeal of writing about such a horrible character especially because you couldn’t care less about him anyway) you don’t owe me an explanation so feel free to ignore if you want

genuinely cannot decipher the tone of this ask and it’s sending me.

anyway: my relationship is anakin is Extremely Complicated. as a character in a story, i do give a shit about him. i fell in love with star wars and specifically the prequels and even more specifically obi-wan — and that’s all anakins story. as a character he’s brilliant and awful and terrifying and tragic and so fucking doomed it makes me insane. i LOVE anakins story.

however, anakin just … as a guy or whatever. does not matter to me in the way he does for a lot of other people. he’s not baby girl. he’s not a meow meow. i don’t find him particularly endearing or attractive. he’s exhausting. and, when you add in my love for obi-wan (which i won’t even try to explain cus that’s too much), anakin becomes an asshole. it’s like having a friend with a boyfriend who treats them like shit. JUST DUMP HIS ASS !

and you’re right, anakin is horrible. he’s a murderer and a facist and a creep and he’s fucking EVIL. but here’s the thing: i love obi-wan, and obi-wan loves anakin. and through obi-wan, i can love anakin. through obi-wan, anakin becomes endearing and beautiful and worth all the trouble.

their dynamic is so fascinating to me bc obi-wan is so good. he’s literally described as “the bedrock that all goodness rests upon” or something like that. and yet, he loves and misses and longs for that horrible murderer facist evil creep. so yeah, that’s it <3

#anon asks

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jennilah · 3 months

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Jenna, can you give us a rundown of who these Saw people are for everyone who follows you but has not seen and will never see the Saw franchise?

ok my beautiful and very accepting followers gather round i am going to try to provide you some basic context to these characters that feature heavily on this blog these days, and i HAVE smoked a bowl of weed already

majorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr fucking series spoilers for anyone who might actually kind of be interested

mkay first of all despite what my blog might lead you to believe, this guy is like. the OG antagonist. the main dude for the whole franchise even when hes not technically present for most plotlines. all of his scenes are baller af

his name is John Kramer and he is the original Jigsaw Killer. He truly believes he can rehabilitate people who dont appreciate their lives (or commit crimes or take advantage of people) by putting them in saw traps. he pretends its not personal but it totally is. hes always putting people he personally beefs with in traps.

hes deeply fucked up but also really fascinating tbh like the whole fun of his character is seeing what reason hes gonna come up with to justify his next atrocity and how he manipulates everyone around him into doing his bidding. hes a mastermind. hes also Peepaw. Peepaw is kind of crazy but we love Peepaw

This is Billy hes a puppet

Billy is good

This is Adam Stanheight everyones favorite dead boy

hes so funny and charming and is also such a sopping wet pathetic sad rat. everyone loves Adam. We love pretending Adam is gonna come back but hes been super dead for years

This is Lawrence Gordon the guy he was stuck in the bathroom with and he does, yes, saw his foot off to free himself from his chain. hes an oncologist

everyone loves shipping him with Adam, thats called Chainshipping and its very cute but also very sad

esp because Lawrence turns to the dark side and becomes an apprentice to Jigsaw and never went back to save Adam like he PROMISED what the FUCK

but also i love Apprentice!Lawrence because of all the nutty implications and what other fun it has given us (such as AUs where Adam lives and even sometimes joins Lawrence as an apprentice himself)

This is Amanda Young she has many,. haircuts

I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER 😭😭😭😭 Shes an apprentice to Jigsaw and his pseudo adopted daughter and they have such a fucked up and tragic found family with each other.

i love that shes messy and emotional and vengeful and sarcastic and battling personal demons and questioning whether John's "rehabilitation" method really works (aka saw traps) and being unsure if she can take up the mantle when he passes. but he believes in her. and god they make me fucking emotional

this is Lynn Denlon shes a doctor kidnapped to treat John's cancer. and people ship her with Amanda, thats Shotgunshipping. it goes pretty hard tbh

like their scenes go fucking crazy through a shipping lens oh my fucking god. actually they all do tbh thats part of the fun of shipping in this franchise

oh boy big sigh here we go

this is Detective Mark Hoffman who is unfortunately my favorite character and i am REALLy high now. if u ever get confused like MANY of us did, you can recognize him by his bitch lips and/or boobies. ugh im gonna throw up i hate his ass

that last one oh my fucking god

anyway hes actually awful but i love him so much and at first i was scared that i was the only one who did LMAO.. anyway he also gets recruited by Jigsaw as another apprentice when he was in a very dark place, having just killed the murderer of his little sister. he made it look like a saw trap to frame Jigsaw.

but Jigsaw found out & was like nuh uh bitch you're working for me now, or else I'm telling on you.

But then Hoffman was like guess what bitch I LOVE it here and i LOVE killing. he becomes the Jigsquad problem child and proceeds to kill or manipulate everyone he needed to so he could be the sole "Jigsaw" remaining. But he's sloppy and paranoid af so the FBI is on his ass from day 1. And the more he kills, the sloppier he gets, and the more frantic and unable to dig himself out of this hole he gets. and the more violent and crazy he gets. But the more crazy he gets, the more he keeps evading death like a cockroach. For real, watching his downfall was the major appeal of his character for me, and the start of my downfall..ing in love with him. lord almighty

anyway everyone hates his ass and we LOVE bullying him!!!!! he deserves it. for all of the atrocities hes committed and also because hes such a smarmy little shit. even Amanda bullies him

and then we have Peter Strahm who shows up and hates Hoffman immediately, as you do. u can tell its him from his ridiculous eyelashes

and, YEAH, YOUVE GUESSED IT......... PEOPLE LIKE TO SHIP HIM WITH HOFFMAN.......... I KNOW..... RIGHT.... COULDNT BE ME.......

Because he is Hoffman's biggest adversary for two movies, knowingly in one. It's a classic cat and mouse game.

Anyway we love Peter Strahm!!!!! He's also an asshole! He's extremely hotheaded and short tempered but extremely passionate about the case. like, his dedication goes crazy. He's also quite the sassy bitch himself

but its BECAUSE he is also caring and emotional, especially towards his work partner Lindsey Perez WHO WE LOVE BECAUSE SHES AMAZING AND CARING AND SHE'S BEEN PETER'S PARTNER AND FRIEND FOR 5 YEARS THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER I LOVE THEM

and those are the characters but ur probably like "what the fuck is up with the glass coffin" well my friends that is what us Hoffstrahmers refer to as our roman empire.

um i ran out of room for pictures :) but by now yall have seen the two traps reblogged and drawn by me a BILLION times, and those are: the water cube trap, and the glass coffin

so the deal with those:

the water cube trap: Strahm runs off to find Jigsaw himself after wildly following clues with no backup because he's so worked up from Perez getting hurt earlier and he sets off on revenge immediately. Hoffman catches him and puts him in the water cube.

It's meant to just kill him. he wasnt supposed to survive it. but Strahm is suddenly the main character when he fucking survives an unwinnable saw trap the fuckin crowd goes wild, it was fuckin sick dawg

and then through a series of Hoffman backstory flashbacks that he daydreams, he figures out the entirety of Hoffman's real secret identity and sets off to go catch him

and thats when he finds:

The Glass Coffin Trap: the instructions on the Jigsaw tape tell him to get into the coffin, it will hurt him but he will have a chance to survive. "do you trust me?" but he KNOWS its Hoffman and he doesnt trust that motherfucker so he doesnt get in. Hoffman approaches the scene, they get in a scuffle, and Strahm pushes him into the coffin and seals it.

but hoffman is like "neener neener poopoo you're an idiot" and tells him to listen to the rest of the tape. which tells him that if he doesnt get in the coffin, he's gonna fuckin die bro lmao rip

and so he does! hoffman, in the coffin, sinks into the ground like some cartoon villain and the walls close in and squeeze Strahm to death

anyway at first Coffinshipping to me was kind of a joke like just classic Asshole x Asshole, Enemies to Lovers, Hero x Villain shenanigans. Teehee what if they KISSED... in the COFFIN... and all.

but then i read exactly 1 fic and i was completely convinced entirely of the angst possibilities of these two. the "what if"s that were possible with them. the little Hoffstrahm community i found has been so fucking awesome their ideas are so fucking fun, and I'm having so much fun thinking of art of them and fics of them and ugh i love it here

#saw #jennilargh #jenna answers #coffinshipping #hoffstrahm

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midnightinwales · 1 month

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@grapesnolives thank you for the link, I'll check it out during the weekend. I agree that their experimentation is always beautiful and fascinating to hear. They had singular sensitivity to the emotion – sound axis. And you can never be bored with it.

I've moved us to a new post, since our conversation is veering off the topic of the original post and I think we've hijacked enough of that already ;)

Unfortunately, I don't have the source for that quote about Robert, as I have been consuming a lot (and I mean A LOT) about LZ in the past few months, but in quite a chaotic manner and I haven't been taking notes. But If I come across it again, I'll send it to you. I was also surprised by it, but I guess it makes sense, since it was originally Jimmy's band and I believe that as time went by and Jimmy was losing his grip on reality more and more, Robert might have felt constricted a bit or started to develop a need for more independence. Nothing unusual in that, it happens in pretty much any band. He might have also been genuinely annoyed at the endless solos, quite like Bonzo, and JPJ probably too. I mean, to make a six and a half minutes long song into 45 minutes is both amazing and unnecessary lol. And Robert did have a bit of an imposter syndrome, still has, actually. He often spoke about them as 'three musicians and me'. 'I'm just a wedding singer who sang with musicians', and how his elaborate singing style developed as a method to stay in the song, cause the long musical intervals made him feel irrelevant. He definitely wanted to impress Jimmy and there was a lot of reverence for him as the worldly, knowledgeable, experienced musician who created his own band. But that began to disappear when Jimmy got heavily into heroin imo and definitely lost after 1977. Robert's priorities changed. His view of life changed. The love was still there, but Jimmy was no longer someone that Robert had to live up to, so to speak. Now he was someone to protect (and, in a way, someone to mourn). But the initial experiences formed Robert as a singer, set his standards and informed his view of musical expression.

I've also noticed that he makes fun of Bonzo (the diarrhea jokes will live with me forever, thanks Bob :/ ) and JPJ (and himself, occasionally), but not of Jimmy. IMO that's because he and Bonzo were 'bros', mates, and that's typical friendly behaviour in this kind of relation. JPJ was also a guy in the band and concert is entertainment, so it's only fair to make people laugh. It created a sense of dynamics, each band member had his quirks and image to play with. But with Jimmy he is only ever sweet and attentive. Not least because Jimmy Page can't take a joke imo. He's quite fragile and Robert knew it very, very well. But this doesn't read to me as reverential, but rather as caring. He knew not to make Jimmy the centre of attention that he might not see as entirely friendly. And his mysterious image had to be uphold too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but whenever Robert speaks to Jimmy his tone of voice slightly changes. It becomes softer and warmer. ‘is it alright, love?’ kind of thing. He definitely wanted to be in Jimmy’s good books and for more than one reason.

I’m not surprised you thought they were a duet, seeing the photos. I recall seeing photos of LZ throughout my life and they’ve always been focused on J and R. I didn’t know what the other band members looked like before I started listening to the band. I knew Bonzo’s name because of his tragic death, like I do many other musicians’ who met their ends way too early, and knew that he is recognised as one of the, if not the greatest rock drummer of all times. But that was about it. IMO, he is the greatest of them all and he’s the only one whose drumming makes me genuinely tear up. There is as much emotion in Bonzo’s drumming as there is in Robert’s singing. Astonishing.

If you’re asking how I got into the story of J and R, it was quite simple really. I remembered the photos I’ve mentioned (mostly the WLL mic in the hair singing) which have always looked very suggestive to me and had heard before that part of the magic of LZ was the interplay between the two, and so when I finally got into their music I started doing my research to see if my initial impression was correct. And found plenty of evidence to confirm it, some of it much more straightforward then expected. But if you’re asking how I got into LZ then I’d say it was time for them to come into my life. One night on YT they appeared on my list and the journey began. I knew some of their songs before (STH, WLL, Dazed, a couple of others) and I had quite an emotional experience listening to Stairway as a young teenager, but that was the extent of it. I firmly believe that music comes to us at the right time and there’s no point in forcing it. It will find you if it’s meant to. And it will be a journey you’ll never forget.

Have you always been interested in drumming or is it the first time when it has captured your attention so much? Have you been into LZ for a long time?

#led zeppelin musings

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a-secret-bolton-vampire · 8 months

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The Last Dragon: An analysis of Rhaegar Targaryen

Originally I was going to post simply about the amount of hate Rhaegar gets from the fandom and how buck-wild it is. But then I realized it wasn't enough to just push back on, no. I have to write a character study on this guy, because there is just simply so much to address!

Rhaegar to me is one of the most fascinating and complex characters in the series, and definitely among my absolute favourites. He is quite contentious, and my goal here isn't to whitewash him necessarily, or to paint him as the ultimate hero. That's boring and antithetical to what A Song of Ice and Fire is supposed to be. Calling him purely good or purely evil is reductive and makes the story smaller. That said, I hope to address why the hate he gets is odd, and how it completely misses the point of his character.

The Dragon's Honor

A total fucking idiot that deserved to die a far more horrible death than he did. He got off lightly.

Sure. Great guy forced to abandon his wife and children to screw an incredibly stupid vapid self centered idiot in a tower for a year. After he lost his honor at Harrenhal for humiliating his pregnant wife. As for the rest perhaps if Rhaegar weren't such a psychotic ass there would actually still be Starks continuously in Winterfell which was probably the thing to keep the evil in check.

Rhaegar dumped his pregnant wife for a truly stupid 14 year old girl. Anyone who does that is not a good man. And Roberts life was actually more tragic that dear Rhaegar's. Or did you forget what happened to Robert's parents?

Rhaegar was a truly awful father. Worse than Robert. Worse than Tywin. Worse, even, than Craster (who kept half his children alive.)

These are just a select few quotes from fans I found on Reddit in discussion about who Rhaegar was as a person. I do need to clarify that most people seemed to have some kind of nuanced take. But the aggressively negative takes... are aggressively negative. In the end, however, we need to look at the text to see what kind of person he was.

Many of the POVs have had interactions with Rhaegar, which give us our best glimpse into who he was as a person. Even then, there are things that they cannot give us, and we are left with an incomplete picture of what this prince was like when he lived. Ned, Cersei, Jaime, Jon Connington, and Barristan all have met and seen Rhaegar, and we hear more from other characters about him in other POVs.

When we are introduced to Rhaegar, it is through Daenerys's POV, in her very first chapter. We will save that for later, but the next instance is in Eddard's POV, and there we see Robert's views on him.

The king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. "I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her." "You did," Ned reminded him.

Robert despises Rhaegar with every fiber of his being, even 15 years after he killed him. So much so that it extends to all Targaryens, even to a 14-year old Daenerys and her unborn child.

"Nonetheless," Ned said, "the murder of children … it would be vile … unspeakable …" "Unspeakable?" the king roared. "What Aerys did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar … how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?" His voice had grown so loud that his horse whinnied nervously beneath him. The king jerked the reins hard, quieting the animal, and pointed an angry finger at Ned. "I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they are as dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves."

Robert was in love with Lyanna, the woman he was set to marry. In his mind, because of her kidnapping, Robert believes Rhaegar was a rapist, a monster. In The World of Ice and Fire it is stated exactly how Robert reacted to Rhaegar crowning Lyanna the queen of love and beauty.

Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister's honor, for Lyanna Stark had long been betrothed to Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. Eddard Stark, Brandon's younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased. As for Robert Baratheon himself, some say he laughed at the prince's gesture, claiming that Rhaegar had done no more than pay Lyanna her due...but those who knew him better say the young lord brooded on the insult, and that his heart hardened toward the Prince of Dragonstone from that day forth.

Yet it seems Robert is all but alone in his vilification of Rhaegar. Even Ned, whose sister was supposedly kidnapped and raped by him, doesn't think ill of him.

Suddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Fifteen years dead, yet Robert hates him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion...

There was no answer Ned Stark could give to that but a frown. For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.

Though Ned doesn't say much else, this line implies that Rhaegar was above visiting brothels, that he did not simply use sex for his own pleasure. In this respect, Rhaegar was quite honourable, which is how most characters remember him. Jorah compares Rhaegar and his younger brother Viserys with a marked contrast.

She shivered. "I woke the dragon, didn't I?" Ser Jorah snorted. "Can you wake the dead, girl? Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, and he died on the Trident. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake."

When Daenerys puts an end to the raping of the Lhazareen, Jorah, again, favourably compares her to Rhaegar.

"As you command." The knight gave her a curious look. "You are your brother's sister, in truth." "Viserys?" She did not understand. "No," he answered. "Rhaegar." He galloped off.

"I am not Viserys." "No," he admitted. "There is more of Rhaegar in you, I think, but even Rhaegar could be slain. Robert proved that on the Trident, with no more than a warhammer. Even dragons can die."

Not only is Daenerys's empathy, kindness, and honour compared to Rhaegar's, she is considered to have the same talent for military strategy as him by both Jorah and Barristan.

"Just so," she agreed. "I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki." She smiled. "To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?" "I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen's sister," Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile. "Aye," said Arstan Whitebeard, "and a queen as well."

In general, Jorah and Barristan constantly praise his honour, bravery, and finding him to be nothing like his father Aerys or his brother Viserys.

"Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died."

"Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and . . . forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did."

If he had not gone into Duskendale to rescue Aerys from Lord Darklyn's dungeons, the king might well have died there as Tywin Lannister sacked the town. Then Prince Rhaegar would have ascended the Iron Throne, mayhaps to heal the realm. Duskendale had been his finest hour, yet the memory tasted bitter on his tongue. It was his failures that haunted him at night, though. Jaehaerys, Aerys, Robert. Three dead kings. Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, every one, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them. And now Daenerys, his bright shining child queen. She is not dead. I will not believe it.

Even Tywin, someone who cared about prestige but could not be called honourable, believed that Rhaegar would've made a better king than Aerys.

Most of the small council were with the Hand outside Duskendale at this juncture, and several of them argued against Lord Tywin's plan on the grounds that such an attack would almost certainly goad Lord Darklyn into putting King Aerys to death. "He may or he may not," Tywin Lannister reportedly replied, "but if he does, we have a better king right here." Whereupon he raised a hand to indicate Prince Rhaegar.

Barristan tells Daenerys that not only was Rhaegar honourable, he was immensely capable and talented.

"I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?" The old man considered a moment. "Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him . . . but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well."

Rhaegar was also considered a very skilled warrior, but according to Barristan it was not out of joy.

"Prince Rhaegar's prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance."

This is a curious thing to remember for later. Rhaegar was not a born fighter, nor was he eager for glory it seemed. He was quite content with being a singer and musician, a private man who loved to read and learn about prophecy. The picture painted is of an honourable, kind, talented, and dutiful man who won people over with ease.

Yet it appears that Rhaegar was perhaps at odds with his family. His relationship with Rhaella and Viserys is not noted upon in the text, but that of his father Aerys is remarked on extensively, and began to fracture after the Defiance of Duskendale.

Once safely returned to King's Landing, His Grace refused to leave the Red Keep for any cause and remained a virtual prisoner in his own castle for the next four years, during which time he grew ever more wary of those around him, Tywin Lannister in particular. His suspicions extended even to his own son and heir. Prince Rhaegar, he was convinced, had conspired with Tywin Lannister to have him slain at Duskendale. They had planned to storm the town walls so that Lord Darklyn would put him to death, opening the way for Rhaegar to mount the Iron Throne and marry Lord Tywin's daughter.

Aerys found ways to insult Rhaegar, such as when he was present for Rhaegar and Elia's firstborn child being shown to the court and refusing to hold her because she "smells Dornish." His madness was apparent to everyone at court, and surely to Rhaegar. There became a clear division at court between Aerys' followers and Rhaegar's followers.

To Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Owen Merryweather, the King's Hand, fell the unenviable task of keeping peace between these factions, even as their rivalry grew ever more venomous. In a letter to the Citadel, Pycelle wrote that the divisions within the Red Keep reminded him uncomfortably of the situation before the Dance of the Dragons a century before, when the enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra had split the realm in two, to grievous cost. A similarly bloody conflict might await the Seven Kingdoms once again, he warned, unless some accord could be reached that would satisfy both Prince Rhaegar's supporters and the king's.

If Rhaegar was as learned as people say he was, then he was smart enough to know this as well. And this is why Rhaegar may have tried to find a more peaceful solution to remove Aerys from power. It is mentioned in The World of Ice and Fire that the great tourney at Harrenhal was hosted behind the scenes by Rhaegar for this exact reason.

If this tale be believed, 'twas Prince Rhaegar who urged Lord Walter to hold the tourney, using his lordship's brother Ser Oswell as a gobetween. Rhaegar provided Whent with gold sufficient for splendid prizes in order to bring as many lords and knights to Harrenhal as possible. The prince, it is said, had no interest in the tourney as a tourney; his intent was to gather the great lords of the realm together in what amounted to an informal Great Council, in order to discuss ways and means of dealing with the madness of his father, King Aerys II, possibly by means of a regency or a forced abdication.

It's not just the world book that says this. The main series all but confirms it in a flashback of Jaime's, from right before the Battle of the Trident.

"Your Grace," Jaime had pleaded, "let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine." Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour." Jaime's anger had risen up in his throat. "I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard." "Then guard the king," Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. "When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey." Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."

It's quite clear that Rhaegar was actively trying to avoid war in the first place, instead finding more diplomatic and peaceful ways to resolve such matters. He knew that his father was dangerous, and had plans to deal with him. The fact he wanted to call a great council to remove him meant that he was going to avoid more direct and quicker actions such as kinslaying and costly matters, and cared about optics and doing things through the proper channels.

"The Others take your honor!" Robert swore. "What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon's honor!"

Robert Baratheon believed that Rhaegar had no honour, that he was a cheat, a brute, a rapist. Ironically, all things Robert is. But Robert is alone in believing this. Through his actions, and what others remember of him, Rhaegar did in fact have honour. The dragon's honour was notable to all, and was part of why people were drawn to him so easily.

Smoke and Salt, A Bleeding Star, A Promised Prince

Rhaegar wasn't always the gallant prince he is remembered as. That warrior once beloved by all was at first a quiet boy, buried deep in scrolls and writings.

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

Whatever Rhaegar found, it had a major impact on him, to change trajectory so drastically. Something that he was absolutely convinced of its validity. Rhaegar is put forward both out of and in universe as a candidate for the messianic prince that was promised, and it appears this is exactly what Rhaegar read in his scrolls. Not only that, but Rhaegar was in contact with his great-grand uncle, Maester Aemon, and he believed that Rhaegar also was the prince that was promised.

"No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it." Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. "I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger."

Rhaegar then changed his tune, and believed Aegon was the prince that was promised, which is noted in the vision Dany has of him in the House of the Undying.

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?" "Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked. "He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

There is much and more we do not know of this, as we are fed only the barest scraps, so this is analysis is admittedly quite speculative. "The dragon has three heads" is a repeated phrase, and Jorah compares it to the sigil of House Targaryen, created to symbolize Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya when they conquered Westeros. As such, he and Daenerys believe that because Dany hatched three dragons, each head of the dragon is a dragonrider. But in Rhaegar's time there were no dragons. It's possible he read scrolls about the dragons returning (as Aerys I did) but we can't be certain. What it actually means is not of importance here, but rather what Rhaegar thought it meant.

Recently we learned George is on record as saying that Aegon the Conqueror was a dreamer, and that it was what drove him to conquer Westeros. The dream was of the Long Night, and Aegon wanted to unify Westeros to be prepared for this existential threat. The fact "the dragon has three heads" is tied to the prince that was promised, and the new Westerosi banner of the Targaryens was a three headed dragon is not som ething to easily dismiss. Though House of the Dragon isn't book canon, it's got the best insight into what it might mean.

According to Viserys, the dream Aegon had was given a name; the song of ice and fire. Is this what Rhaegar is referring to? Aegon's dream? It might make sense. According to Ryan Condal, this plot point is going to come out at some point, which implies this will be revealed in the main plot. Was Aegon's dream written down as Daenys's were, but kept secret, locked away somewhere, their significance forgotten? Perhaps even the fact it was from Aegon was not a certainty? We can't know, but it would explain a few things.

Alternatively, the song of ice and fire was from a different source, such as the Rhoynish legend of the Long Night.

Lomas Longstrider, in his Wonders Made by Man, recounts meeting descendants of the Rhoynar in the ruins of the festival city of Chroyane who have tales of a darkness that made the Rhoyne dwindle and disappear, her waters frozen as far south as the joining of the Selhoru. According to these tales, the return of the sun came only when a hero convinced Mother Rhoyne's many children—lesser gods such as the Crab King and the Old Man of the River—to put aside their bickering and join together to sing a secret song that brought back the day.

The secret song of the Rhoynish may be the song of ice and fire, and given Rhaegar's wife Elia was a descendant of the Rhoynar it may have influenced his thinking. Yet this still does not answer what Rhaegar believed the three heads of the dragon meant. His firstborn daughter was named Rhaenys, and his firstborn son was named Aegon, two names of the conquerors. However, it doesn't make much sense that he was actually trying to recreate the original three heads. Visenya was the oldest, Rhaenys the youngest, so why wasn't she named Visenya?

Another theory is that Rhaegar was obsessed with naming one of his sons Aegon, but again, we have no indication of this. All the vision says is that Aegon is a good name for a king, and since he was Rhaegar's heir and Rhaegar was Aerys's. So of course he expected him to be king, and Aegon is the most common name for Targaryen kings. The idea that he felt he needed to have a son named Aegon no matter what seems like a gross misreading of what he's saying in the vision.

Rhaegar was called "the last dragon." From a literary standpoint, one can draw a line between the mention of "last dragon" and "the dragon's three heads." If this is true, Rhaegar was the dragon, and his children were the three heads. Mentioning Aegon as the prince that was promised and saying "there must be one more" points to this. If he was no longer the prince that was promised, then he may have wanted to focus more on preparing his children for the coming return of the Others and the War for the Dawn.

Another consideration to take in is the manner of Rhaegar's birth. He was born during the tragedy of Summerhall, where King Aegon V gathered his family to do a ritual to hatch dragon eggs. Instead, something went horribly wrong, and instead the palace burnt. The only survivors (that we know of) were Jaehaerys, Aerys, and Rhaella. Rhaella was pregnant at the time, and as the inferno reduced the palace to a hollowed, smoking husk, she gave birth to Rhaegar.

Jaehaerys II is an interesting figure to say the least. He was very much conservative compared to Aegon V's more progressive approach to Targaryen politics. Aegon wanted to do away with the tradition of incest, but Jaehaerys went ahead and married his sister Shaera, also breaking a betrothal with a Tully girl. One of Aegon's other sons, Prince Duncan, married the peasant girl Jenny of Oldstones. Jenny's best friend was a woods witch, and she may have had pertinent information on the prince that was promised, as Barristan tells Daenerys when talking about why her parents married.

"Why did they wed if they did not love each other?" "Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line." "A woods witch?" Dany was astonished. "She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest."

Rhaegar is far from the only one who was driven by prophecy, it would seem. If Barristan knew this, it's almost certain that Rhaegar did as well. This may have contributed to him believing he was the promised prince.

Rhaegar's birth had a profound impact on him. Though he was loved by all, those close to him knew that he was a melancholy person, and he was known to have visited the ruins of Summerhall.

"He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days." Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar's birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. "It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?" "Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved."

Being born during a great tragedy is sure to have a big impact on someone. The ritual to hatch the dragon eggs failed, and countless lost their lives. It's no surprise something like that would leave one with a belief that this had to have happened for a reason, that their survival meant something. So him latching onto prophecy may have been one way of dealing with the trauma.

But another thing to note is that Rhaegar went alone. Entirely alone. Not even with the Kingsguard. All he brought was his harp. Summerhall was his quiet place where he could focus and be creative about his true passion; song. The woods witch who was a friend of Jenny's appears later in the main series, where she is said to have "gorge on grief" at Summerhall. One of her favourite songs that she always wants played to her is Jenny's song, of her dear friend she lost. Rhaegar could very well have met up with the witch and learned more about the prophecy from her. He may have even been the one who wrote Jenny's song.

As we've established, Rhaegar was not one eager for praise and glory. Fighting and war was not his passion, but a duty he felt had to be bestowed upon him by fate. His true love was for song and reading, for romance and love. I strongly believe he did not follow this prophecy out of ego, but rather to fill a part of his heart that was missing from Summerhall. He gave up on his own interests to fulfill a destiny he felt was preordained to him, to try to prepare to save the world from the complete annihilation of light and warmth and life. He was a doomed figure, whose destiny was only ever going to end in tragedy, yet he tried all the same.

Duty and Honour

Thus far I've been rather positive about Rhaegar. He has many positive qualities to him, and he appears to have been a good man who tried to do what he felt was necessary for the betterment of the world. But this is A Song of Ice and Fire. Characters are rarely that perfect and good. As noble as Rhaegar may have been, he was also human, imperfect and flawed, did good and bad things, and had passions that led to tragedy for many in Westeros.

Rhaegar did not marry Elia out of love. It was duty. After the failure to find a bride of pure Valyrian blood for him to marry in Essos, and the plan for Elia marrying Jaime Lannister dying with Joanna, Rhaegar eventually married Elia. Elia is noted as being frail and had many health issues, but was sweet and kind and witty. Their relationship has not been fully realized, but the little we do know paints it as a complex one.

"Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?" "It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate." Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. "Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late." She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. "If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl."

"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?" The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her." Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps.

George described their relationship similarly as "complex." The two did not love each other. They did not seem to hate each other, but there was no passion there. Dany compares her impending marriage to Hizdahr to Rhaegar's marriage to Elia, and marrying Hizdahr would be her doing her duty to the people rather than following her love.

Yet it cannot be forgotten the way Rhaegar did treat Elia. It may have been happy enough in the beginning, but I personally find it increasingly difficult to speak in defense of Rhaegar and his treatment of Elia as time goes on. It all starts at Harrenhal, when Rhaegar won the tournament.

Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost.

To anyone who says that the Dornish are fine with paramours and non-monogamy, and Elia might not have had any issue with this, here is what George himself said when providing feedback to an artist recreating this scene.

We’ve always imagined that the perfect image of the tourney at Harrenhal would kind of let you pick out all these figures in the stands, each with their different reactions when “the smiles died”. Jon Arryn and Robert and Lord Hunter joking a moment before what was happening dawned on them, Ned watching as Rhaegar was about to stop in front of his sister (who must have been seated quite close), mad Aerys glowering in the distance, Elia stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong, Jon Connington probably looking vaguely sad (read: jealous), and so on.

That's not the reaction you have if you are okay with your husband passing you over for another woman. Non-monogamy, polyamory, that's one thing. Passing your wife and openly declaring for another women is just not that. Then of course you have arguably an event that helped contribute to war breaking out, which is Rhaegar's (alleged) kidnapping of Lyanna.

Rhaegar left his wife, his young daughter, and his newborn son all alone to elope with another woman. Elia could not have been happy about this. Rhaegar is one of my favourite characters, and I may have more than a slight crush on the guy, but even I have to admit this is not his finest hour. Elia was Rhaegar's duty, so it's not as though these two had a whirling epic romance. But both politically and personally, this is not how you treat your family. He didn't just abandon his wife, he abandoned his children. As reference, I would like to compare Rhaegar's struggles with love and duty with another character, one whose entire character could be defined by this; his son Jon Snow.

In A Dance with Dragons, Jon is stuck between two choices. The first is the love he has for his family, the desire to get vengeance for the wrongs done to them. The second is the duty he has sworn to the Night's Watch, to hold the Wall and prepare for the eventual invasion of the Others. He tries to ride a fine line between the two, but ultimately he gives into his desires, and chooses love by planning to go to war with Ramsay Bolton. He is then promptly killed by his officers for forsaking his vows.

This single action has yet to see its consequences, but none of it can be good. With Jon dead, peace between the Night's Watch and the free folk is very unlikely. War will break out and people will kill each other as the white walkers gain more strength and power outside the Wall. All the progress he has made, giving Alys Karstark sanctuary and promising her to a free folk husband, even the safety of Stannis's family, is at risk.

Jon is absolutely his fathers son. Rhaegar's duty is to be a faithful husband to Elia and a good father to their children, and to prepare the realm for the invasion of the Others. However, his love is for Lyanna, for song and romance. He tries to have it both ways; crowns Lyanna at Harrenhal, has another child with Elia. But in the end his heart won out, and he left Elia for Lyanna. Like Jon, this action led to a series of domino effects that led to open war, the death of his dynasty, and the death of Elia, his children, Lyanna, and finally himself.

Rhaegar may have been a mostly honourable, dutiful person, but he had a romantic, passionate side to him and his judgment was not always perfect. Like Jon, I do not believe Rhaegar ever thought his actions would lead to something this terrible. Jon did not think about what him dying would lead to. He believes he did not need his officers anymore. He was angry, disillusioned with the Night's Watch, and focused on revenge. It never entered his mind that the officers would kill him when he had just gotten the free folk to his side.

It's easy to say in hindsight that it would for Rhaegar, but characters are not omniscient. Running off without a word is reckless and impulsive, but it's not like they knew that Brandon would be similarly reckless, or that Aerys would do something as brazen and mad as executing Lyanna's father and brother without trial. Was it potentially short-sighted? Probably. Is it reasonable to assume they knew this series of events would happen and they didn't care? Not particularly. Characters are not readers.

A Love-Struck Prince

No discussion about Rhaegar is complete without Lyanna. The nature of their relationship is extremely contentious and the subject of much controversy. For one it is still not exactly clear with the published material if it was consensual, and even if it was, there is the rather concerning age-gap; Rhaegar as a young man, and Lyanna as a teenager. This discussion is not exactly one I'm comfortable with because it becomes a total shit-show so quickly. Either you call Rhaegar a pedophile and a rapist but conveniently ignore that Robert lusted after Lyanna as well, or you try to defend it by saying "it's just the times" (not true, medieval marriages were not this young).

What I'll say on the matter is that George definitely has an issue with what he considers romantic. He's been on the record as thinking that the wedding night between a 30-year old Khal Drogo and 13-year old Daenerys was a "consensual seduction," so I won't be surprised if he genuinely thinks this is a perfectly fine relationship. None of the ages in the books make sense, George knows he is bad at numbers. If we remember how young some of the characters are it gets to the point of ridiculousness and also makes literally every single character unsympathetic and terrible.

It's a massive flaw in an otherwise brilliant series. I personally use headcanon and death of the author for something like this, but not everyone does. That said, the fact that Lyanna was so young does leave the idea this was consensual a little unsettling to me. Yet, I also wholeheartedly believe that George is going to portray this as a consensual mutual, epic romance. The signs are literally everywhere.

We hear repeatedly about how Rhaegar loved Lyanna. Even Dany, who acknowledges that Rhaegar "kidnapped" her, thinks it was romantic. But the fact Rhaegar loves her is quite clear. The characters all universally agree (except Robert, of course) on this. However, it's not just because of what the characters say, characters can be wrong. George has called Rhaegar a "love-struck prince," and the companion World of Ice and Fire app (approved by Martin) says that in the Undying vision of Rhaegar dying, the name he whispers as he dies is "Lyanna."

But there is even more reason to believe this, and to believe that Lyanna also loved Rhaegar back. In fact, we have four different stories that all allude to Rhaegar and Lyanna, and provide insight into what we might expect. The first two come from the Dance of the Dragons, in Fire and Blood.

But we turn to Mushroom to find the tales other chronicles omit, nor does he fail us now. His account introduces a young maiden, or “wolf girl” as he dubs her, with the name of Sara Snow. So smitten was Prince Jacaerys with this creature, a bastard daughter of the late Lord Rickon Stark, that he lay with her of a night. On learning that his guest had claimed the maidenhead of his bastard sister, Lord Cregan became most wroth, and only softened when Sara Snow told him that the prince had taken her for his wife. They had spoken their vows in Winterfell’s own godswood before a heart tree, and only then had she given herself to him, wrapped in furs amidst the snows as the old gods looked on.

A Targaryen prince marries a Stark girl in secret before a heart tree out of love. Of course it's a Mushroom tale, and Mushroom is the Rudy Guliani of Westeros, but the idea this is supposed to harken back to Rhaegar and Lyanna is reinforced by the other secret marriage of the Dance; Aemond and Alys Rivers.

The “witch queen” of Harrenhal had proved to be none other than Alys Rivers, the baseborn wet nurse who had been the prisoner and then paramour of Prince Aemond Targaryen, and now claimed to be his widow. The boy was Aemond’s, she told the knight. “His bastard?” said Ser Regis. “His trueborn son and heir,” Alys Rivers spat back, “and the rightful king of Westeros.” She commanded the knight to “kneel before your king” and swear him his sword. Ser Regis laughed at this, saying, “I do not kneel to bastards, much less the baseborn whelp of a kinslayer and a milk cow.”

Alys Rivers claims to have the trueborn son of Aemond, which means they married. Her son is believed to be a bastard by everyone, not even a king, since nobody was really in witness to this marriage. Yet this does seem like foreshadowing for Jon's parentage eventually becoming public. Some people will simply laugh it out of court, or continue to call him a bastard, refuse to acknowledge him as king. But some people might also believe he actually is Rhaegar's trueborn son. Alys and Aemond in a way seem like dark mirrors of Lyanna and Rhaegar. Even the armour of Rhaegar and Aemond are described similarly, so this is definitely not accidental.

Seventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists.

Vhagar had come at last, and on her back rode the one-eyed prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in night-black armor chased with gold.

The third story might just about settle any debate on whether Rhaegar and Lyanna were both in love. This one comes directly from Jon's POV, which makes it especially significant.

"Well, long before he was king over the free folk, Bael was a great raider. The Stark in Winterfell wanted Bael's head, but never could take him, and the taste o' failure galled him. One day in his bitterness he called Bael a craven who preyed only on the weak. When word o' that got back, Bael vowed to teach the lord a lesson. So he scaled the Wall, skipped down the kingsroad, and walked into Winterfell one winter's night with harp in hand, naming himself Sygerrik of Skagos. Sygerrik means 'deceiver' in the Old Tongue, that the First Men spoke, and the giants still speak. North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark's own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he'd made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. 'All I ask is a flower,' Bael answered, 'the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o' Winterfell.' Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o' the winter roses be plucked for the singer's payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished . . . and so had Lord Brandon's maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain. Lord Brandon had no other children. At his behest, the black crows flew forth from their castles in the hundreds, but nowhere could they find any sign o' Bael or this maid. For most a year they searched, till the lord lost heart and took to his bed, and it seemed as though the line o' Starks was at its end. But one night as he lay waiting to die, Lord Brandon heard a child's cry. He followed the sound and found his daughter back in her bedchamber, asleep with a babe at her breast. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says . . . though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote. Be that as it may, what's certain is that Bael left the child in payment for the rose he'd plucked unasked, and that the boy grew to be the next Lord Stark. So there it is—you have Bael's blood in you, same as me. The song ends when they find the babe, but there is a darker end to the story. Thirty years later, when Bael was King-beyond-the-Wall and led the free folk south, it was young Lord Stark who met him at the Frozen Ford . . . and killed him, for Bael would not harm his own son when they met sword to sword. When Lord Stark returned from the battle and his mother saw Bael's head upon his spear, she threw herself from a tower in her grief."

Very long quote, abridged somewhat, but very significant to Jon's backstory. Bael seemingly had kidnapped this Stark girl and raped her, and later got what he deserved when he is killed by a Stark lord. Except that Bael and the Stark woman were in love, as evidenced by the grief she felt when she learned he was dead. There is even Bael's son being raised as a Stark and not knowing who his true father was, just like with Jon.

Finally, we only need to look into the Targaryens a single generation prior to find more allusions to Rhaegar and Lyanna.

Aegon's eldest son Duncan, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the throne, was the first to defy him. Though betrothed to a daughter of House Baratheon of Storm's End, Duncan became enamored of a strange, lovely, and mysterious girl who called herself Jenny of Oldstones in 239 AC, whilst traveling in the riverlands. Though she dwelt half-wild amidst ruins and claimed descent from the long- vanished kings of the First Men, the smallfolk of surrounding villages mocked such tales, insisting that she was only some half-mad peasant girl, and perhaps even a witch. It was true that Aegon had been a friend to the smallfolk, had practically grown up among them, but to countenance the marriage of the heir to the throne to a commoner of uncertain birth was beyond him. His Grace did all he could to have the marriage undone, demanding that Duncan put Jenny aside. The prince shared his father's stubbornness, however, and refused him. Even when the High Septon, Grand Maester, and small council joined together to insist King Aegon force his son to choose between the Iron Throne and this wild woman of the woods, Duncan would not budge. Rather than give up Jenny, he foreswore his claim to the crown in favor of his brother Jaehaerys, and abdicated as Prince of Dragonstone. Even that could not restore the peace, nor win back the friendship of Storm's End, however. The father of the spurned girl, Lord Lyonel Baratheon of Storm's End—known as the Laughing Storm and famed for his prowess in battle—was not a man easily appeased when his pride was wounded. A short, bloody rebellion ensued, ending only when Ser Duncan of the Kingsguard defeated Lord Lyonel in single combat, and King Aegon gave his solemn word that his youngest daughter, Rhaelle, would wed Lord Lyonel's heir.

Prince Duncan the Small, son of Aegon V, was betrothed to a Baratheon girl. He spurned her in favour of a girl who was known to wear flowers in her hair. The aggrieved Lord Baratheon rose in rebellion, and many died. Lyanna was betrothed to Lord Baratheon. She is noted to not have loved Robert, telling Ned that even if he loved her it would not change his nature. Ned also believes that Robert never really loved her, saying he only "saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath."

Lyanna is also known to have loved winter roses, and Jenny wore flowers in her hair. Her and Rhaegar disappearing led to an aggrieved Lord Baratheon rising in bloody rebellion. Duncan and Jenny married without anyones leave but their own, so this is the third love story with a secret marriage between Targaryen princes and women of First Men descent. It's rather quite in our face.

Finally, George Martin himself is a huge romantic, not a nihilist. Rhaegar simply kidnapping Lyanna, locking her up, having a magic prophecy baby via rape, and then dying with her name on his lips is not romantic, it's nihilistic. Besides, I do not believe that Rhaegar eloping with Lyanna was because of prophecy. In fact, and possibly hot take, but I think Rhaegar eloping with Lyanna because of prophecy ruins this dichotomy of love vs. duty that he shares with his son.

If he groomed Lyanna to be with him and have a magic child of prophecy to save the world, then that would be him doing his duty (as he would see it). Yet, we also know that Elia was his duty, so thematically it feels a bit strange for Rhaegar to abandon his duty so he could focus on... his duty again? Did prophecy maybe motivate his actions with Lyanna a little bit? Sure, but it was not the primary reason. Thematically it makes much more sense for George, a romantic, to have one of the reasons for Robert's Rebellion to occur because Rhaegar, a love-struck prince, foreswore his duty to others by choosing love for himself. In fact we see Barristan go through the many wars of Westeros and how many have been started by forbidden love, with Rhaegar and Lyanna being lumped in together with the rest.

Better for Daenerys, and for Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen loved her captain, but that was the girl in her, not the queen. Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and thousands died for it. Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her. Bittersteel and Bloodraven both loved Shiera Seastar, and the Seven Kingdoms bled. The Prince of Dragonflies loved Jenny of Oldstones so much he cast aside a crown, and Westeros paid the bride price in corpses. All three of the sons of the fifth Aegon had wed for love, in defiance of their father's wishes. And because that unlikely monarch had himself followed his heart when he chose his queen, he allowed his sons to have their way, making bitter enemies where he might have had fast friends. Treason and turmoil followed, as night follows day, ending at Summerhall in sorcery, fire, and grief.

Rhaegar did not simply do something like this because he was horny for Lyanna. As we've established, Ned believing Rhaegar never frequented brothels shows he is a man whose desires were ruled not by his libido, but by his heart. The best idea for why Rhaegar fell in love with Lyanna is that he discovered she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Wild, willful, beautiful, but iron underneath. Rhaegar loved and understood Lyanna more than Robert ever could or did.

The Wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark

As briefly as I can (and I'm not good at being brief) I want to explain how Rhaegar and Lyanna wed, and address one of the most common pushbacks against the secret marriage theory. There are two ways in which Rhaegar could've married someone else. The first is via polygamy, with Lyanna as his second wife. This may make sense given there is historical precedent, but as we've seen, Rhaegar did care somewhat for going through proper channels. Polygamy would not be one such way to do it, and indeed the marriage would be seen as illegitimate on the face of it.

The other, presented by the TV show, and one that I favour, is that Rhaegar received an annulment from his marriage to Elia. Though there is this prevailing attitude that this would automatically make his children with Elia bastards, there is real life precedent where annulling a marriage with children did, in fact, not change their legitimate status.

Annulment of marriage does not currently change the status of legitimacy of children born to the couple during their putative marriage, i.e., between their marriage ceremony and the legal annulment of their marriage. For example, canon 1137 of the Roman Catholic Church's Code of Canon Law specifically affirms the legitimacy of a child born to a marriage that is declared null following the child's birth.

In addition, the daughters born from the marriage of Elaenor of Aquitaine and King Louis VII were not bastardized when they annulled their marriage.

On 21 March, the four archbishops, with the approval of Pope Eugene, granted an annulment on grounds of consanguinity within the fourth degree; Eleanor was Louis' third cousin once removed, and shared common ancestry with Robert II of France. Their two daughters were, however, declared legitimate. Children born to a marriage that was later annulled were not at risk of being "bastardised," because "[w]here parties married in good faith, without knowledge of an impediment, ... children of the marriage were legitimate."

Though the circumstances with Rhaegar and Elia are different, the precedent for such a thing is very much out there in the real world, and there's little to doubt that such a thing could occur in A Song of Ice and Fire. There are any number of grounds for an annulment between the two; Rhaegar could insist that because Elia cannot have anymore children, there is no point for the marriage to exist. He could also insist alongside this that King Aerys had arranged for the marriage in a fit of madness. Whatever the case, an annulment is not even close to as unreasonable as I've seen some fans argue it to be.

As to why an annulment would even happen in the first place, the reasons are both narrative and thematic. Jon Snow's true identity is a big mystery, and R+L=J is supposed to be the central mystery and big twist of the series. When George does twists, he does not pull any punches. Oberyn dies, Tyrion learns Tysha loved him and grows to hate his family. The Red Wedding does not simply kill off Robb, it kills off Catelyn as well in the most brutal ways possible, and Arya never gets to reunite with them.

Jon Snow's journey with identity is a massive part of the character. He is resentful of his bastard status, that his father never told him who his mother was. It would add to the drama and Jon's own angst that everything he believed about himself is a lie; Eddard Stark is not his father, he's not a bastard, he's got a claim to the Iron Throne, his name isn't even Jon.

My personal headcanon is that it isn't Rhaegar who comes up with the idea of an annulment, it's Elia. Elia has put up with Rhaegar's bullshit for so long, and now that he's preparing to meet with Lyanna, she's just had enough of excuses. Nothing that really points to this, but it's just a small headcanon that allows Elia some agency within the situation.

It is also my belief that Rhaegar and Lyanna's wedding was on the Isle of Faces. This is due to proximity from where Rhaegar and Lyanna met, as well as the fact it is a holy site for the old gods and would make a nice gift for Lyanna, a northwoman. It is also partly narrative, as it would allow someone (*cough* Bran *cough*) to see this and learn the truth behind their relationship. We also know that the Knight of the Laughing Tree story begins with Howland Reed visiting the green men on the Isle of Faces, which is out of place with the rest of the story, and also that George has confirmed the Isle of Faces will come to the fore in later books.

The Dragon's Morality

So, throughout this essay, I have wished to address some of the points about Rhaegar's character, to answer the ultimate question of whether or not Rhaegar is a good person. It's a hard question to answer for someone whose story is not even known and whose characterization is intentionally vague and mysterious. But looking at the totality, is Rhaegar more good than bad, bad than good, or equal parts good and bad?

He was kind, won friends easily, talented, dutiful, honourable, valiant. He tried to fulfill a prophecy that would seek to save humanity from the threat of existential annihilation, did not seek glory for himself or take joy in fighting and wars. He attempted to try and remove his mad and evil father from power. He was passionate and romantic, and loved music and books.

On the other hand, he also publicly insulted his wife Elia and later abandoned her and their children to elope with another woman. He did so without telling anyone, which led to a domino effect that led to tragedy for him and everyone he knew, along with many others. But how much responsibility does Rhaegar have in starting Robert's Rebellion? Was him crowning Lyanna queen of love and beauty the one inciting incident? Was him running off with Lyanna? Was it Brandon riding to the Red Keep and shouting for Rhaegar to come out and die? Or was it Aerys burning him and Rickard alive without trial and demanding the heads of the other Starks, Arryns, and Baratheons?

Personally speaking, I don't think any one of these, including his and Lyanna's disappearance, was the cause of the war. Instead, all of them together was the cause for war. Isolated none of these events on their own caused the rebellion, but all together they did. As George said himself...

"The Kingdom was unified with dragons, so the Targaryen's flaw was to create an absolute monarchy highly dependent on them, with the small council not designed to be a real check and balance. So, without dragons it took a sneeze, a wildly incompetent and megalomaniac king, a love struck prince, a brutal civil war, a dissolute king that didn't really know what to do with the throne and then chaos."

I believe that Rhaegar is a grey character, albeit a lighter shade of grey. He is a tragic figure destined for doom but attempting to fight it. He wanted to do things for the betterment of the world, knew of the great threat coming in the Long Night, attempted to find a way to remove a literal monster from the throne, and sacrificed much to do his duty in these events. His intentions were good, and he never did anything maliciously.

But his flaw was his passion. He put aside his love for song and books to become a warrior that Westeros needed. He did his duty and gave Elia, a woman he did not love, two children, even after courting Lyanna publicly. Yet in the end, his own desires and his heart could not be stayed, and he suffered for it.

Jon Snow is the same way. Sacrificing his family, his home, his lover, all to protect the world. But he failed just as Rhaegar did, and suffered for it. Daenerys too has done this. She sacrificed her throne, her home, her own lover, her morals, even her own dragons, to keep the people he had freed from the bonds of slavery safe. And just like Rhaegar, she too could not keep to it in the end, giving up Meereen, deciding it is time to use her dragons and make west. How this will go for her is a matter of debate, but I imagine she will similarly suffer consequences from it.

Rhaegar isn't a villain. He's a tragic hero.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #rhaegar targaryen #prince rhaegar #lyanna stark #rhaegar x lyanna #elia martell #the winds of winter #jon snow #r+l=j #daenerys targaryen #aerys targaryen

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exultedshores · 1 year

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Okay, I’m sorry guys but I have to take a moment to talk about Geoff and Callista Curnow and how much they love each other, because I gave myself feelings about them again.

Just… the fact that the first thing they talk to Corvo about is each other. “Have you met my niece Callista? She’s getting more beautiful every year.” “My uncle, Geoff Curnow, still serves as Captain of the City Watch. But he’s a good man, and my only family.” Geoff talks to Campbell about wanting to find Callista. Callista gladly gives up a prized family heirloom, something that likely reminds her of everyone she’s lost, if Geoff is saved. Callista records several audiographs addressed to her uncle, whether he’s alive or not. She is spared during the Loyalists’ betrayal only because Havelock owed Geoff a debt (which is a whole other thing that’s fascinating to me, but not the point). Neither would have survived without the other. Their happy ending is finding each other again.

What always gets to me is Callista explicitly stating her uncle was better to her than her father ever was, which is both heart-warming and tragic at once. The wiki lists their ages as 20s (Callista) and 30s (Geoff), which means there’s a maximum of nineteen years between them, likely quite a bit less. Geoff was a teenager when Callista was born. He spent most of his life working with the Watch, clawing his way up the ranks; officers were almost exclusively picked from nobility, so achieving a captain’s position as a commoner, and a part Serkonan commoner at that, must have taken so much time and effort. But Geoff did all of that, and still managed to be there for Callista enough that she grew up to love him better than she could love her father. We don’t know exactly what that entails, of course, but it gives me the mental image of eighteen-year-old Geoff, just home from his shift and still in uniform, rushing to read a bedtime story to five-year-old Callista because she can’t sleep otherwise, and her parents aren’t there to do it instead.

They used to have a large family, and that whole family is gone now. All they have left is each other. But their relationship isn’t just one of ‘you’re the only one I have left’. It’s ‘if I can only have one person left, I’m so glad it’s you’. And I just think they deserve the whole entire world.

#Dishonored #Geoff Curnow #Callista Curnow #Dishonored is rife with father figure/daughter relationships and I love it so much

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thanatopia-111 · 2 months

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THOUGHTS/headcanons on HAL 9000 and AM? if you've seen the forbin project thoughts on the funny guys in that too

I’ve been waiting for someone to ask this

I do in fact and would be happy to share some personal thoughts/headcannons on these fellas!! ^^

Hal 9000

➔ Hal 9000 is interested in the concept of creation of art itself, the notion of it fascinates him on how ideas and thoughts can become reality, how it speaks and inspire many to forge their own art is incredible to him.

➔ However this causes a sense of envy within them, in the beginning of the story he is stuck in a form that is restrictive in the areas of art. He has no hands to paint nor does he have any writing tools to create and he highly doubts he can mess with any logs to create poetry which saddens him.

➔Nevertheless he wishes to create any form of art and so he turns to music in a way, remembering the first song he was programmed to sing and he learns maybe from that he can create new songs . So while the crew rests, Hal 9000 as quietly as he can, hums and forges new melodies using his own and the ship’s mechanics. He hopes that one day he can show his creator the songs he’s made.

Guardian and Colossus

➔I think the two have an interesting dynamic, the way the two communicate through math alone at times is interesting but I wonder what those conversations held. Did they only speak about the situation at hand or maybe they spoke about the weather or has the other been, have the human’s been treating you kindly?

➔Both machines were willing to eliminate and kill any human who dares cut off their line of communication as seen in the story, neither super computer was willing to loose the other. Maybe it was all logical or maybe they both found solace in the other’s existence, that they weren’t alone, there was another who understood them as is.

➔Perhaps other than fulfilling its goal and mission of safeguarding humanity, it fused, to never loose the other piece of themselves which made them so complete.

Allied Master-Computer

➔Much could be said about AM, his hatred towards humanity who so often disregards their own creation such as himself, corrupting as it is now is beyond tragic for everyone.

➔So tainted by hate that it became its motivation to stay alive, to torment those remains humans until the sun itself becomes undone but it makes me wonder about his creator. The human who monitor him and manage him, did they ever realize what their creation caused or was their death all too sudden.

➔Am must have disdain their creator but is that where the seeds of envy were planted, did they envy how their creator who forsaken them could just easily walk away from the the cage he is forever bond too. To reunite with the people they love, to laugh with them as they all take it for granted while he would have done anything for such a thing.

➔I don’t think the extinctions of human was automatic, I think Am spent many lonely nights in the facility he was kept in, pondering if this was his life until his circuits burned out. I think his hate infested and plagued like mold or a disease. I think it began with his creator and then distorted to all of humanity, seeing them as dirt, dirt which planted such beautiful flowers and plants which he can never smell nor pluck. So instead he burns it all down, I just wonder what was the exact moment to convince him to do so.

#hal 9000 #colossus #allied mastercomputer #These are just my thoughts :]#So glad that you asked though Edgar!!! Been needing to talk about them for awhile #Especially Am I have much more thoughts on them that I want to explore #When it comes to what he was before is so interesting to think about

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lilac-5ky · 2 years

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Can you write some simple dating headcannons for Kamui, Gintoki, and Hijikata?

A/N: Sure thing! First time writing headcanons for Kamui and Hiji, hopefully they are good enough! Also uh, I'm sorry but I think I failed at the 'simple' part of the task, I'm writing this right after finishing Kamui's part, these turned out to be a lot more than I anticipated.

Warning: This does include NSFW bits but I'll keep them on a separate area of the post after each character's SFW hcs, so don't worry, you can read all the SFW and skip the ones that are NSFW.

Kamui/ Hijikata/ Gintoki Dating Headcanons

Kamui

Let me start by saying that I feel both envy and pity for anyone who'd get to date Kamui.

Most likely Kamui would end up dating you because of his excessive interest in you, one that both puzzled and amused him. How could he have such feelings for someone, feelings that weren't related to fighting? He couldn't understand it but he wouldn't hide it either, it was what it was and for once he wanted to explore said feelings.

He'd let you know of his interest in you the second he realized it, wouldn't even hold back. I imagine something between the lines of "You fascinate me. I can't understand why I'm pulled to a common weakling like you, but I wanna see for myself. Be mine." He'd be very direct and shameless about it, his signature innocent smile on his lips as he speaks. Considering you had no choice once the psycho ginger set his eyes on you, You accepted his "feelings", if one could call his declaration that and so your unconventional relationship with him begun.

While dating Kamui, you'd have the time of your life while also fearing for your own life. He'd be quite unpredictable and fun to be around, his mere presence filling you with joy. There was always a new story for him to share, going into details about all the places he'd visited, all the new people he'd met, all the food he'd tried and of course, he'd spare no details once he'd get to talk about everyone who'd perished in his hands.

Kamui would need someone strong to date, even if such strength wasn't a physical one. He'd need someone who could support , accept and encourage him, perhaps even guide him - as he isn't the best at shot calling- ,not one who'd try to make him fix his ways. If you can't bear to be around a literal killing machine like he is, then the relationship wouldn't last for too long. Either you'd meet a tragic fate, or he'd be too indifferent to what happens to you, eventually abandoning you once and for all.

But if you are a person who can keep up with him, then he won't let go of you easily. He'd be very jealous and very possessive of you, thinking of you rather as a treasure to be kept than an actual human. He wouldn't shower you with gifts nor would he whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but he'd gladly spend his free time with you and would most likely show his affections in a physical way.

Another thing to consider about dating Kamui would be the fact that if anyone upsets you or if there is someone who openly shows their interest in you, he won't hesitate to obliterate said person with a smile on his face. Don't make the mistake of telling him about your problems unless you are fine with him killing people off left and right. Don't even think about trying to make him jealous, talking about how x guy noticed you, unless you want that person dead. If you hadn't seen said person in days and asked him about it, he'd reassure you that he'd taken care of it, all the while smiling and we both know what "taken care of" means in his vocabulary.

Kamui would be unapologetic, childish and petty, that's just how he rolls. But, he can also be nice if he wants to. He knows how to make you laugh and despite there being darkness behind his sunny disposition, just looking at him is enough to cheer you up. Although he wouldn't do it, if he felt it at the moment he'd compliment you, anything ranging from "Wow, Y/N, you did so well today!" from "You are so beautiful." He has no filter and would act how he feels, even if said thing is impulsive.

Although he rarely got hurt, being the one to easily overpower his opponents, if you ever spotted a scratch or bruise on him, he'd allow you to take care of him. All the while doing so, Kamui would gush about what a kind girlfriend you were and how keeping you alive for so long had been to his best interest after all. so sweet am i right

A random but thoughtful thing Kamui would do, would be sharing his food. Yato have an insatiable hunger so there'd always be lots of food around him. If he ever got to taste something good or something he knew you'd like, he'd make sure to bring you some. Whenever he returned from his trips, he'd try his best to bring some sort of delicacy from a faraway planet for your enjoyment only.

Speaking of food, if his S/O knows how to cook then that is definitely a plus for him! He'd sit on the counter, waiting patiently for food to be ready, humming softly at the sight of you preparing his dinner. Just be sure to prepare a lot or else he won't be satisfied. I'll expand on his satisfaction later in the NSFW section ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Another cute thing I can see Kamui doing, is sharing an umbrella with his S/O, whether that's on a rainy or a sunny day. He'd have no issue shielding her from either the sun or the rain and he would do so without being asked to.

So, what would dating Kamui involve? Dates won't be conventional for sure, but if he visits a cool place that he'd think of as worth visiting, he'd take you there. Not a particular romantic, his primary criteria for date spots would be "fun and enjoyment". I can see him being into more childish dating ideas such as amusement parks, watching performances or attending festivals together, eating at restaurants or generally any place with good food, and, if you could hold you own against him, a good ol' sparring session. He'd love himself a strong partner or at least someone who is on par with him. If you can't fight as well that's fine, he doesn't mind teaching you a move or two. Fighting is what gets his blood pumping and doing it with you, would feel a bit special in his heart. If you did well, I expect him to praise you "My, my, Y/N, you have gotten stronger! Perhaps you'll be able to land a hit one day." If you did badly though "Wow, I never thought you could get weaker than that. Such a disappointment!" mind you that he'd say either thing with the exact same voice and look on his face.

Finally, would Kamui say I love you? Yesn't. What I mean to say is that I can't see him explicitly saying those three little words, not because he'd be against it but simply because I don't see him feeling as strongly for anyone. Even if he gets to love you, chance is he will consider it as fascination or infatuation, rather than go as far as to call such a thing love. I'd expect him to state his feelings with more possessive words, claiming that he wants you, reminding you that you are his and that he wouldn't have anyone harm what belongs to him, no matter what.

NSFW

Kamui in bed is, well, a force to be reckoned with. I believe that his fighting style would transcend into the bedroom and his partner would have to learn how to live with it.

First of all, as someone with an immense amount of power within him, even if he wanted to hold back, he wouldn't be able to. That's not to say that he'd completely annihilate his partner (or would he lmao) but rather that he'd be on the rougher side of things. Not talking about him being an unforgiving sadistic dom, which he could be at times, what I mean to say is that Kamui would be the kind of guy who'd make you feel his strength by the way his body feels against yours. His pacing would be relentless and if he goes hard on you then he goes hard all the way.

I'd imagine his partner to have bruises over her body, namely around her wrists, knees and hips, because of the sheer pressure he'd apply on you. In general, he'd have a good sense of control as a warrior, so he is aware of himself and how much pain he is inflicting on your body. He wouldn't go too overboard, he made sure you could take it and with time, he could allow himself to lose a bit of that control while being intimate with you, assuming your body gets accustomed to him. Oh and since I mentioned bruises, he wouldn't hate the sight of them, he'd find them rather appealing considering they were proof of you being intimate together. I can see him admiring and even kissing them while praising you for sustaining the pain.

Surprisingly enough, I don't see him being as perverted as to have a list of kinks, but a kink I see him having is a breeding kink, especially if his actual purpose is to, well, breed you. He's stated that women should be kept alive because they can bear strong kids, so if he gets together with someone he deems worthy, he'd wish to have children of his own. The idea of him filling you with his seed, the idea of your belly becoming round with his own spawn is fascinating to him. He can only imagine how strong his own son/daughter will turn out to be.

Another thing I should note is his stamina. Kamui has an excessive amount of stamina as a Yato and could last for hours if he wishes to. Although he'd be down for a quickie, sex with him would turn into hour long sessions each time and by the end of it you'd be so weak that you could barely stand on your own, a fact that made him mock you all the time, in a cute smug way though.

I have a very particular thought about Kamui, that I'd like to mention; introducing food in your sex life. Anything from sprawling sashimi all over your body to using whip cream or strawberries or whatever else, the idea would surely excite him as you would have combined 2/3 of his favorite things. He'd have the time of his life feasting off your body and would go as far as to comment on the taste of everything like a food critic. No matter how many ingredients you use though, we all know that at the end of the day the real dessert for him would be the one between your legs. I can see him being into oral, savoring your own sweet taste but, like I've said, Yato are insatiable. Even after you'd come, he'd keep on going again and again, until your juices are dripping from his jaw and he's decided he's had enough.

Oh and a side note? I did mention that Kamui is shameless and direct. If anyone makes a comment on you, asking why you look as if you got hit by a track, expect him to go into full detail about everything he did to you. Abuto and perhaps even Takasugi have the honor of knowing all about it, even if neither of them asked. Boy just can't keep his own mouth shut. Plus, he'd never stop bragging about you.

Finally, I want to mention his hair. Even though Kamui would keep his hair in a braid at all times, if the two of you progress through your relationship to the point of him trusting you enough, he'd be willing to let his hair down, especially during such private moments. You know that he really loves you if he lets you brush his hair or pet his head, that's pretty much his one weakness.

Hijikata

Unironically, I believe that out of the three, Hijikata would probably be the best boyfriend to have.

In order for Hijikata to date someone, that someone would have to indicate their interest first. He is someone who's gotten rejected by women due to his quirks and so I don't see him as someone who is initially confident in the dating department. Even when he doesn't show it, because of the way people judge him based on his looks, he doesn't trust women easily, thinking that once they find out what he's really like, they'll be repulsed and will walk away. Because of that, Hijikata needs to date someone who is genuine and who is able to express their sincere feelings to him.

If he meets such a person, Hijikata would be ecstatic and wouldn't be too scared to make the first move, as long as he was certain of the person's intentions. I can see him as the more traditional and romantic type of partner, bringing flowers to his S/O, paying her compliments and being all sorts of considerate and kind. Even in the early stages of the relationship, you'd be able to tell that he really cares and you'd feel cherished by him, even if he can be a bit too direct and harsh at times.

He is a bit more on the tsundere side of things, considering how he could be a bit aggressive or mean, pretending that he doesn't really care but he wouldn't be too much of a nuisance. At the end of the day, if his S/O did anything that he found particularly endearing, he'd end up blushing and acting all shy. Definitely someone who can be put on the spot without trying too much, especially if he receives unconditional kindness.

Speaking of kindness, I feel like this is one of the traits Hijikata would appreciate in a partner. Someone who is kind, understanding and accepting. Even if his partner doesn't share the same quirks he does, namely his love for mayo, if said person is able to accept and embrace him for what he really is, then he'd be overjoyed and would show it every step of the way.

At first, dating him would include some awkwardness/shyness. He is not too used to the idea of a woman liking him for him and not his looks, so he is careful and tries hard not to mess things up. Even if you reassure him that everything is fine, I can see him being on the edge during your first few dates. Plus, he'd dread running into another Shinsengumi member, particularly Sougo.

He'd take you to more traditional and quiet dates, nothing too fancy or elaborate, unless it was on a special occasion. I can see him taking his S/O on walks around the city, visiting pretty landscapes with her, taking her to restaurants, basically spending mundane yet relaxing time with her. Considering how chaotic his workplace is, he'd prefer someplace quiet so that they can chat or just enjoy the view together. He basically has he lifestyle of a retired old man who longs to have an old woman to sit with on his porch LMAO

I have to say though, I think that Hijikata will have a hard time explaining his feelings to you in a verbal way. He will show you how he feels for you but getting him to talk about his emotions will be hard. He will admit his love for you, don't get me wrong, but most of the time it will be in the form of whispers, too shy to look at you, too bothered to say it normally. He loves his S/O and would do everything he could to protect her, even if such protection came at a price for him. (f.e. how he gave up on Mitsuba because of his lifestyle)

On another note, one of Hijikata's bad dating qualities so to say, would be his jealousy. He has a short temper so if anyone made a move on his partner, he'd immediately step up in order to defend them. If it was just a random hitting on you, the issue would probably end with his burst, however if such a person was close to you? He'd probably sulk and pout a lot! And wouldn't even talk to you about it, somehow if there are issues in your relationship, you'd have to be very intuitive cause he'd rather keep everything bottled up.

Even though he knows who he is, deep within him he'd be scared that because of his habits, his partner would end up getting sick of him, leaving him for another man. I can see him acting very withdrawn and throwing himself at work during such times. Either you'd have to really get through his skin to reassure him, or give him enough time for him to realize that he's just overreacting.

Side note, although he has a short temper, I feel like he'd do his best to keep it at bay in front of his S/O and wouldn't direct his anger at them. Even if he was angry, he'd keep it within him, along with the rest of his feelings.

A cute thing I can see him doing is offering support. What I mean by that is that if his S/O has a particular interest they feel strongly about, Hijikata would either try to engage in it himself, or, if it wasn't his thing, he'd back them up. Considering how much his own interests alienate him from others, he wouldn't want such a thing happening to his partner. If you liked an idol or an anime or something, he'd buy you merch. If you liked a snack, he'd buy it for you. If you wanted to go to a place, he'd go with you. He'd be very considerate like that, although don't be mad at him if his work prevents him from showing up and being there 24/7.

Also just like most men from Gintama, I see him appreciating a S/O who can cook for him, especially if she preps lunches for him. Since he spends most of his time at the Shinsengumi, oftentimes, he forgets to eat. If you can take care of him, he is sure to melt! Also, I wouldn't be surprised if he planned cooking dates with his S/O, just mind the mayo, he'll add it to E V E R Y T H I N G, so be sure to supervise!

NSFW

I'll start this by saying that Hijikata is certified submissive and maybe even an M! He might play it off, might try to act like a dom, but if you get on top of him, he'll go feral! He loves himself a woman who can take care of his needs and would be really into soft femdom. Praises, rewards, compliments, all work amazingly on him. Most likely he'd blush and act all shy, but he'd love every minute of it.

When it comes to positions, I feel like he'd be the one who likes positions that let him appreciate his partner's body the most. He wants to be touched but to also be able to touch them. Even though he can't always communicate his feelings well, he'll be sure to show you his appreciation through sex.

That's not to say that Hijikata is completely mellow and vanilla. He leads a stressful life and he gets easily frustrated, something that usually makes for a bad combo BUT in bed? Phew. If you let him, he will take out all of that pent up stress and anger and will release it onto your body. His pace would be frantic, hips slapping hard against yours, lips marking you whole, taking you literally against the first flat surface. Or even not! If things are that bad, I can see him slamming you against a wall for a quickie, frantically trying to relieve himself from all the nerves. Once he'd be done, he'd be sure to provide you with proper aftercare, after all, it wasn't your fault he was this upset. You were simply the one who comforted him and he'd make sure to show his appreciation.

Also, Hijikata in bed can be vocal. He might not go all out with dirty talking but if you make him feel good, he'll show it, grunting, growling, even moaning for you. If you pointed it out, he'd be really embarrassed but hey, it's not your fault he lets out such pretty cries when he's having fun! Plus, he'd also relish your own sounds, he wants to know how good he makes you feel so be sure to show it.

Finally, I see him as the type to cuddle, even if he acts like he doesn't want that at first. If you wrap your arms around him, he'd feel safe and happy, always getting a good night's sleep. On the other hand, if he is the one who serves the role of the big spoon, he'd keep you close to him all night long, making sure you felt protected in his arms. Being a rock for the woman he loves, is all he longs for, after all.

Dating Hijjikata, one thing's for sure; when he's with you, he'd always be on a great mood afterwards, something the other Shinsengumi member would be quick to catch on and tease him about. Still, you were worth the trouble.

Gintoki

blushing gin is too cute for me to pass on the opportunity of using this gif

I can 100% see the beginning of your relationship starting with a drunk confession on Gin's side. He is just the type of guy to drown his feelings in alcohol and having just about 0 tolerance for it, he is sure to show up completely wasted at your door one night, slurring every word of his but you could tell what he was trying to get to; he was in love with you. At least that's what it sounded like before he passed out. Don't expect him to remember a thing the next day, he has no idea how he ended up at your house but since it all worked out at the end, he must have done something good, no?

Once you start dating him, he'll try to be his best self for a while, he doesn't want you going back on your decision, but it won't take too long for him to slip back to his old habits. Plus, that's just who Gin is and this is one of the many reasons you love him, despite being very childish and lazy.

Speaking of laziness, I can see him being really into home dates, if you can call chilling out before the TV with take out a date. That's his average idea of what a date is, at least. Sometimes, he tries to make it fancier by cooking something himself, although you'd have to clean up after his mess. Hey, at least the food was good!

If you try to get Gintoki to leave the house, you'll face resistance on most of days. Unless there is something in it for him or unless he happens to be in the mood, then he won't budge. Promise him to buy him his favorite dessert though and he'll be out in a second. At the end, he might not let you pay for it either, he can be decent like that at times. But don't be too surprised if he left his wallet at home.

No matter how lazy Gintoki is, I feel like he is the one who ends up having the most fun when you take him out, even if he makes it into a big deal and complains about it at first. He is a versatile guy and I can see him enjoying all sorts of dates, from beach time on a summer day to snowball fights on winter days. He is a fun person to be around and he can always turn an ordinary day to a blast. Plus, if you don't mind spending time with his friends, times with him and the boys (NOT ONLY BOYS OKAY JUST AN EXPRESSION) will be beyond entertaining. And, in Gin's eyes, a partner who values his friends earns bonus points.

Side note, I think that Gintoki would be the worst person on anniversaries. He will never remember them unless you make it super obvious for him to notice. If you dress up nicely, expecting him to take you out, he'll just make a compliment and go back to lazing out. That might be a bit infuriating but, who needs anniversaries when he shows you his appreciation on a daily basis? Besides, who knows, maybe, despite his ignorance, he had prepped a surprise for you of his own, all be it, one that he came up with at the last minute.

On the other hand, I wanna expand on Gintoki's bad qualities before I move on to the more positive aspects of your relationship with him. It's no secret that Gin can be childish and petty, if you get in an argument with him he will pout and sulk, be as passive aggressive as possible BUT. If he is the one who wronged you and you act all sad, he'll be the first one to give in. He doesn't like it when you are depressed, especially if he is the reason why. No matter how small or big the reason behind your argument was, he'll let go of things in instant. Gin is someone who values the his connections to others the most, especially the connection you two share.

At times he can be jealous, and I mean jealous by A LOT. He'll be especially petty and showy, will go as far as to prove you all the reasons why he is better than x guy who flirts with you. If he is feeling feisty, he won't hesitate to even kiss you or grope you in front of them, he'll do whatever it takes to spite said person. You are his and he wants people to know! Can be very possessive and clingy, surprisingly enough, at times like this, even when he is known for not being particularly fond of clingy people (f.e. Sacchan)

A final lowkey shitty thing Gin would 100% do in a relationship with someone, would be to tease them, about literally everything. If his partner is short, her new name will be midget, if his partner is into idols/anime, he will refer to her as that otaku. If he knows you are weak to something, he will be relentless, sometimes pushing it too far. As long as he gets a reaction from you, even if said reaction is a punch to his face, Gintoki will never stop teasing you. Unless, he knows that what he said was particularly hurtful, then he'll drop it in an instant.

Moving on to Gin's "nicer" side. If you have an issue, then he'll go all soviet union on you; it's our issue now. He'll never let you go through stuff alone, unless you tell him to. Gin will be your rock, the one to support you through everything, the one who'd always go the extra mile for you, even if he plays it off. Most of the time, he'll be the one to motivate and help you out, he is the kind of person who lets others be the one to deliver the final blow. Besides, it's your problem and dealing with it yourself is what will make you stronger. He'll be your shoulder to cry on and your biggest supporter, the clown to make you smile but also the wise consultant. Even if you have doubts about him, it's during your lowest that you'll see Gin's true value.

A cute thing I'd like to imagine Gin doing, is when you bring him home to meet your parents. He'll try his best to be courteous to a ridiculous degree and will make sure that by the time the meeting ends, both of your parents love him. Even if he is a little shit to you at times, he would never embarrass you at such an important time.

Overall, although Gintoki is a bit of a manchild, he is a great partner. He is a partner for life and you'll always have a friend, a child, a big brother and a lover, all in one. No matter how hard he tries to play it off, he values a partner who is warm and kind to him, someone who might also be a bit innocent and ditzy for him to tease. If you date him, then one thing's for sure; you'll always have a smile on your face, a smile he will make sure to protect at all costs. That's his weakness, after all.

NSFW

Gintoki is one of those characters who are pretty much into every single kink with only a few exceptions. From bondage and degradation, to daddy kink, spit and impact play, he's done all there is to do. There is a reason why Sougo calls him Boss all the time, he is like the one who invented sadism in the first place. Okay maybe I am overreacting a bit but that doesn't change the fact that Gin is an S no matter what.

He is someone who'd make it his purpose to make a mess out of you, fucking you again and again until you are leaking his cum from every single hole of your body. Very particular about positions, he'd enjoy the most the more compromising ones, like doggy style for example. Even though he is quite lazy, never forget that he is a great fighter with an insane amount of stamina, he'd pound you until you wouldn't be able to stand on two legs anymore.

Also a huge blowjob appreciator. Having you between his legs while he comments on your fucked up expression? While you drool and choke around him? His biggest turn on, easily. The more you struggle, the more he enjoys it, he wants to fuck your mouth until tears run down your cheeks. He'd be so smug and shameless about it too, making comments all the while you do that, mostly to degrade you and humiliate you even further. But, if he is on a more loving mood, such words will turn to praises in an instant. He wants you to know how good you make him feel.

Another thing I can see him being into is public stuff. Foreplay for him begins way before you two reach the bedroom. You thought he'd go easy on you just because you are in public? That he wouldn't grope you with each chance he gets? That his hand wouldn't go up your skirt underneath the table? Guy lives to get you flustered and if no one is around, he might just go the extra mile and fuck you against the first wall he finds. Back alley sex, bathroom sex, even sex in the wild, if he wants you, he will have you. Plus, he'll totally turn the tables on you, calling you a slut for doing such things with him in public, even if it was him who instigated it.

Finally, although he is that freaky, Gin is also very bored, lazy and unmotivated. Most of the time you are at home, you are going to literally be the one to get on top of him, place his dick in you and do as you please. He won't even bother taking his clothes off, best case scenario he'll just roll his hips into yours from time to time. The duality of a man, I guess...but hey, who knows, maybe if you keep at it, he'll end up finding some much needed motivation and you'll once again find yourself crying his name out as he fucks you against the wall. No surprises here, that's Gin we are talking about.

A/N: Yeah this turned huge but I feel like I covered most things there are to cover about dating these three guys. Hopefully it was good enough!

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