#a strange kind of revenge
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Post-Apocalypse + Soulmate AU ; requested by @burr-burr!
When Danny was a kid, he used to imagine how the world would end. It was never a zombie apocalypse or the fallout of a nuclear war, but the death of the sun, the expansion of their star in death that would swallow their planet whole, leaving no survivors.
It would have been nicer than the post-apocalyptic world he stands in now, knowing that it’s his fault the world has ended.
He’s still struggling to wrap his head around it. To understand that all of this is his fault because he cheated on one test, desperate to pass after being unable to study for it with how exhausting and time consuming fighting ghosts is. Everywhere he looks, there’s more destruction. His own home is rubble, with only the partially untouched Ops Center remaining to let him know that this is where he once lived.
The rest of Amity Park is in worse shape. Buildings are hollowed out, the skeletons of their foundations visible, if they still remain standing. Most homes have been burned to the ground, leaving blackened corners of walls and nothing else. The roads are cracked and difficult to walk through, as if an earthquake tore through the city. Cars are scattered along the road, overturned or left abandoned, doors still open.
Danny has yet to find any bodies. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not.
He’s only caught a few glimpses of his future self, the cause of all this, and can’t bring himself to chase after that monster. He feels sick to his stomach knowing what he’ll become.
That monster has to be stopped. The world has already ended, but that doesn’t mean his future self can be allowed to go on like this. If there are any survivors, they need protection. They need to know they’ll be safe to try to start rebuilding, and that can only happen if his future self is dead.
Danny knows what he has to do; he has a responsibility to protect what little remains of Amity Park, and to do that, he needs to kill himself.
But his head it spinning from the horror of the situation and his throat is tightening up the way it only does when he’s about to have a panic attack.
He needs to stop his future self, but he also can’t stay another second in the ruins of Amity Park without destroying himself.
The guilt sits heavy in his chest as he goes ghost and takes to the sky, flying blindly towards the setting sun. Danny doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care. He just needs to get away for a bit, until he can calm down and put together a plan of attack so he can take out his future self in one go.
He just…
He never thought he’d be a monster. But here they are.
Flying away from Amity Park reveals the truly harrowing extent to which this world has suffered under his future self’s hands. There are no intact cities or towns. Roads are broken beyond repair, highways littered with empty cars, most bridges crumbling into the rivers below them, and everything is covered in overgrowth. All signs of humanity’s careful cultivation of the world has been erased. The earth takes back what humans took from it, covering everything in green.
There is no movement. No people. Barely any birds flying beneath him.
What remains of the world is silence.
Danny is terrified that there’s no one left. That his future self has so thoroughly destroyed the earth that no human survivors remain.
That gives his guidance, some idea of where to go: a big city. Any big city, really.
He flies lower, searching for some sort of landmark, or a sign that will tell him where he’s going. A rusted over green sign farther down the road tells him that he’s 50 miles from Gotham.
Oh, Danny thinks, Maybe Batman can help me.
If anyone could survive the end of the world, it would be the superheroes, right? If anyone stands a chance at defeating his future self, it would be a superhero. Superman might have been a better choice, but Metropolis is the opposite direction and multiple states away; Danny’s not sure he can make it before his future self catches wind of him and hunts him down.
Danny has no doubt about what would happen to him if he’s caught; there’s a reason he hasn’t seen any ghosts around, after all.
Gotham is a city of secrets and rumors. What little he’s heard of it is baffling and, frankly, insane. There’s no city in the country like it and Gothamites prefer it that way, stubbornly loving the home that will kill them. For all the manmade horrors they survive on the daily, they would be more prepared for the end of the world than anyone else.
Gotham may be another casualty of his future self’s destruction, but it also offers him hope.
Danny follows the broken road towards Gotham, pushing himself to fly faster than he ever has before. What should have been a half hour flight is completed in fifteen minutes.
As soon as the towering buildings of Gotham, dark and semi destroyed, come into view, Danny drops from the sky and returns to human form. The strain from pushing himself has exhausted him and he feels it like an ache in his chest, his heart twisting and trying to burst from how hard it’s beating.
He collapses to his hands and knees and gasps for breath on the outskirts of Gotham.
It takes a good few minutes to calm down and breathe normally, then another to gather his strength to stand up and begin walking.
The world is eerily quiet as he enters the city, feeling the chill fall upon him as he is consumed by the shadows of tall buildings. It’s much more intact that Amity Park, but there’s no denying the destruction that still surrounds him. Buildings are empty and worn down, decaying and slowly being consumed by new growth. Burnt out husks of overturned cars fill the street, leaving Danny to carefully pick his way around them, unable to walk in a straight line.
He feels like the only person in the world. He feels like he’s being watched by a hungry eyes.
Danny shivers and walks faster.
The deeper he goes into the city, the more he starts to hope that he’s not alone in this world. There’s small signs of life: the smell of smoke, recently burned, certain streets cleaned up, makeshift walls constructed from rubble to block access to certain areas of each block.
He swears he can see people move above his head, but anytime he looks up, the windows of every building are empty.
“Batman,” he whispers to himself, “I just need to find Batman.”
He turns a corner and continues walking. Apartment buildings give way to stores and businesses, all with their windows broken and nothing on the shelves. Then the buildings end abruptly and he’s left staring at an overgrown park that resembles a jungle more than it does a part of the city.
The scent of something sweet lingers in the air. Fruit, perhaps, or flowers.
If he was left in the aftermath of an apocalypse, he would go to where he could find growing food. If there’s anyone left in Gotham, he’s willing to bet they’re in here, surviving off of what food can be grown in the confines of the park.
Danny crosses the road and takes three steps onto the grass before someone appears beside him and points an electrified baton at him.
“Who are you?” they demand, eyes hidden behind a cracked helmet, but the bottom half of their face is visible, revealing scars crossing on dark skin.
Danny takes a step back, eyeing the electric baton warily, and lifts his hands to show he means no harm. “Danny. I came from out of town. I was hoping to find people here.”
“You don’t look like you’ve been traveling.”
His clothes are clean and intact and he has none of the world-weariness that weighs down this Gothamite. Danny winces, and says, “My situation is kinda complicated. But I did just get here. I’m looking for help, actually. Do you know where I could find Batman?”
There’s a long moment of tense silence, then he hears a quiet sigh and the helmet comes off. An exhausted looking man looks at him with one blind eye, turned a milky white, and his voice is low and stricken as he says, “Batman’s dead. But maybe I can help you.”
“Batman’s dead?!” Danny repeats, shocked.
“Yeah. Sacrificed himself in one of the last times Phantom attacked Gotham. Got me and Nightwing out of that encounter alive. We’re really the only heroes left in Gotham, not that there’s much need anymore with everyone trying to survive.”
Phantom killed Batman. His future self killed Batman.
Danny feels sick to his stomach.
“Oh,” he manages to say.
The man’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you as much as we can. Why don’t you come on in? Ivy can get you some food if you’re hungry.”
Danny nods numbly as he follows the man deeper into the park. He walks with ease, taking paths that only become visible when he walks them, leaving Danny to follow close behind. It takes some time before he realizes that the plants are moving out of their way just enough that they don’t trip, and when he looks back, the path is covered again, hidden from sight.
He’s taken to the heart of the forest, where the trees shift to the side to reveal a large encampment of survivors all living together. Beds are strung up as hammocks between trees and rope ladders dangle from branches to help people move up and down. The ground is full of small fire pits, a few in use to make make food, and sections in the back full of vegetable and herb patches, separated by berry bushes.
The people here all look tired and worn down, but they still smile and speak in light voices, adjusted to a new life after surviving so much horror and destruction. He even spots a few people using powers, or just looking different, including one large man who looks like a crocodile.
“Pick up another stray?” a raspy voice asks, humor lighting the tone. They both turn to see a woman with long red hair and a green tint to her skin be lowered to the ground by a vine. She’s also heavily scarred and her right arm is completely gone, replaced by a wooden limb covered in moss that moves as if it’s always been a part of her body.
“Hey Ivy,” the man greets, “I don’t think this one is staying. He came to Gotham looking for Batman.”
The words make Ivy’s gaze sharpen, and Danny feels a trickle of dread go down his spine. She’s dangerous and standing before her feels as if he’s in the mouth of a hungry beast.
“Is that so,” she says, voice flat. “How interesting. I’ll let you two talk somewhere more private.” Her gaze flicks to the side, and when Danny turns to look, he can see some of the people in the encampment observing them warily, bodies tense and poised to either flee or attack.
Ivy turns and the plants part for her. Danny waits for the man to begin walking before he follows, trying not to feel trapped as the plants close the path behind him. She takes them to a small pond full of water lilies, gives the man a careful look, then leaves, swallowed up by the plants.
“Is everything okay?” Danny asks hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
“Nah, you’re good,” the man replies, “It’s just that people don’t trust me much.”
“Why? You’ve been really nice.”
The man shrugs. “My soulmate is Phantom. He’s the one responsible for doing all this and killing almost everyone we love. I didn’t know until the first time I fought him, but they hate anything to do with Phantom, including me.”
Danny’s heart stutters in his chest. This is his soulmate.
Most people don’t subscribe to the belief that they’re meant to be with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is rare enough that most people don’t try, and plenty of people have spoken of how important it is to have a variety of relationships, to not close yourself off for the slightest chance of meeting your soulmate.
Danny never looked for his; he didn’t want to subject them to his parents, and then he became a halfa and gave up on all dreams of having a normal life or any relationship with someone who didn’t know he was Phantom.
And now he’s here, in a ruined future, standing before his soulmate who understandably hates him for destroying the world.
“You’re Phantom’s soulmate,” Danny breathes. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry.
The man sighs. “Yeah. I am. Not that it’s stopped him from trying to kill me. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not working with him. I swear.”
“He’s your soulmate and he hurt you.”
“He hurt everyone,” he says, then gestures at his blind eye. “This is barely a thing compared to what he did to other heroes.”
Danny can’t find the words to expression his horror at seeing the damage he did to his own soulmate. His future self is heartless and cruel and bloodthirsty. He has to be stopped.
He doesn’t want to kill his soulmate.
“I came here for Batman,” Danny says, “Because I thought he could help me stop Phantom.”
“That’s rough, kid. Batman couldn’t beat Phantom. I don’t think anyone can. We’ve tried, but most heroes are dead and we can’t just go out there and risk the lives of everyone here. We gotta focus on survival, not revenge.”
“I have to stop Phantom.”
“Sorry kid, but that’s a terrible idea. Don’t go out there trying to be a hero. You can stay here, alright? Ivy will get you set up and the others will help you settle in.”
Danny takes a step back and shakes his head. “No. I have to stop him. It has to be me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m Phantom,” Danny whispers.
The man immediately reaches for his electric batons again, taking a step back. “Not funny, kid,” he says with a tense voice.
“I’m not joking. I am Phantom, just from the past. I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You’re Phantom?” the man repeats. “You. You’re just a kid, and you’re going to destroy the world one day?”
“I don’t want this to happen! That’s why I need to go back, so I can stop the event that will set me down this path. And to go back, I need to defeat the Phantom that exists here.”
“He’ll kill you, kid.”
“That still solves the problem, doesn’t it? If I die here, then he’ll never live long enough to destroy the world. He’ll die too.”
The man stares at him with cold eyes, then turns away, dropping his hands away from the batons. “Don’t turn this into a suicide mission, kid,” he says. “The Phantom who’s here isn’t you. You don’t have to pay for his crimes. Just… stay here and I’ll go fight Phantom.”
“He already hurt you,” Danny says.
“What’s a little more hurt? I can handle it.”
“No,” Danny says firmly. He shoves away the fear and hurt in his heart and finds his strength in determination. No more running away. No more hiding.
The timeline should not exist. He can’t hesitate at the thought of erasing this version of his soulmate from existence; he’s tired and injured and an outcast in the only community that still exists in Gotham. He deserves better. Everyone here does.
And to give them a better life, Danny needs to stop this one from ever happening.
“This is my future. It’s my responsibility. I’ll stop it and make sure this never happens. And… I’m sorry for everything I did.”
“It’s not your fault, Danny. You’re not this version of Phantom.”
That’s not at all true, since Danny’s actions lead to the end of the world, but he’s not going to argue when he’s preparing to fight a stronger, more ruthless version of himself. He takes a deep breath, then goes ghost and floats into the air.
“Before I go,” he begins, hesitantly, “What’s your name? Since you’re apparently my soulmate.”
The man smiles sadly and answers, “Duke. If we ever meet in your time, tell that version of me to look for my mom’s favorite book.”
It’s an odd request, but if it’s important enough to be asked for, then Danny will do it. “Your mom’s favorite book,” he repeats, “Got it.”
“Take care, Danny. Good luck out there.”
Danny nods and takes one last look at his soulmate, older and worn down, stubbornly getting through each long day, and swears to make things better.
Then he flies off, ready to fight his future self and make things right again.
.
.
.
He thinks of his soulmate for years after he’s back in the present. The timeline where his future self exists is gone and the world is safe, but he still remembers the pain he caused Duke.
When the time comes to apply to universities, Danny sets his sights on Gotham. His parents take him on a trip during spring break to tour the campus, and it’s after the tour, as he wanders around on his own, that he bumps into a student walking out of a building.
“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, reaching for each other to help each other keep their balance.
As soon as their hands meet, it’s as if lightning runs through him. From the look on the other guy’s face, he felt it to.
This is his soulmate.
“Duke,” Danny says, amazed and disbelieving all at once. And the request crosses his mind, something he wondered about almost every night since he returned to his time. “Look for your mom’s favorite book.”
“How—?”
“I met you in the future. You asked me to take back a message for the you that’s here. So: look for your mom’s favorite book. What does that mean, by the way? I never asked.”
Duke blinks, then slowly retracts his hands from Danny’s. “My mom’s favorite book was a hand bound journal from my dad. They were soulmates and he wrote about their first year in a relationship together. It’s full of pictures, and she loved it more than anything. That message is to remind me to have faith in soulmates, to believe that something good can happen to me.”
“Oh! That’s… wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into something so personal.”
Duke shrugs. “It’s fine. I needed the reminder. I would have already run away by now if you didn’t say that. You already know my name, but I think now’s a good time to introduce ourselves.”
“Right!” Danny says, flustered. He sticks his hand out, which Duke shakes with an amused smile. “I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m coming here next semester.”
“Duke Thomas. I’m a freshman here and I’d really love to get your number.”
He’s not hitting on Danny, not really, but it still makes him blush. The way Duke looks at him is full of light and laughter, so different from the exhausted and wary way he looked in the future now rewritten.
This is what the future version of himself tried to kill. He doesn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt Duke when he’s so full of life.
But he’s safe now. Everyone is; Danny changed the future and what lies ahead is wholly unknown to him.
The world is safe and full of promise.
No matter what comes, Danny is sure he and Duke are going to be just fine.
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#prompt fill#my writing#the horror of knowing what kind of monster you are capable of becoming paired with the knowledge that your soulmate has suffered bc of you#and reasonably wants you dead/taken out of the picture not just for revenge but for the sake of everyone's safety#but also from duke's pov he's found a teenager wandering into gotham's last refuge. he looks strangely untouched by the end of the world.#hes looking for batman who duke watched die. and then it turns out that hes a younger version of the monster that ruined your life#(and everyone elses life) and realizes that this is who his soulmate once was#and then knowing that he either has to kill this innocent version of his soulmate or let his existence be unwritten#there is no happy ending for post-apoc duke's story#but he and danny get a second chance in a new timeline where things are better#doesnt mean the nightmares ever leave danny lol#thanks for the prompt!!
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the usual izzy gets surprised by not having had menopause yet and a baby trope but adding in a twist: it happens pre-canon and by the time he gets unceremoniously dumped off the ship, he’s known for at least a month
just. increasingly tense izzy, who not only has to deal with not being able to keep anything in his body and worse nausea than he had even in his first week on a ship, but also can’t sleep marinating in the familiar coldness between him and ed that suddenly grates all over again. who’s forced to contend with the idea that something might finally force them out of this stalemate, and he doesn’t know if he wants that really or what outcome scares him the most, and it makes him pissier than a rabid cat soaking wet most days
and then it happens anyways, in an entirely different way that didn’t even require izzy to voice all of his fears and lay bare their problems, because stede fucking bonnet did that with his mere presence. no need to admit to his fear of being abandoned now, is there, is all he can think bitterly over a mug of fucking water of all things in jackie’z.
#ofmd fic idea#edizzy#kind of#my steddyhands loving brain wants it to end up there but idk how#in my angstridden mind this can go several ways#obvs he still sees jack and obvs the prick knows immediately#now: does jack run off and tattle or stay and help?#either way in my mind izzy has lost all will to fight his way back to ed’s side via navy fuckeries in this#discovering he has other priorities than ed now is a shock to him more than anyone#anyways option one jack still makes it onto the revenge drunkenly ripping ed a new one in the most incomprehensibly strange way#halfway through he’s like oops you’re not supposed to know that izzy’s pregnant!#ed: izzy’s pregnant????#jack (sweating): i didn’t say that#which brings on a merry goose chase because izzy is a wanted man in his own right#and also not in the mood to talk to anyone#option two: jack does NOT scurry off to the revenge#i envisage ed still going ham in this bcs one he discovers functioning without izzy’s shit and two there were issues there brewing already#years later the crew (slowly but steadily piecing itself together) raids a ship and finds a screaming five-year-old in its brig#completely impossible to miss that she is an exact carbon copy of ed from the hair down to the scowl and eyes and-#well it’s very unsettling is all#as are the promises that if they don’t help her her papa will disembowel them all#‘a toddler should not know that word!!!’ lucius insists#meanwhile izzy going insane having temporarily commandeered jack’s current ship in search of his beloved daughter#comedy of errors type thing where the revenge crew are forced to become temporary babysitters to the absolute hellion raised by izzy hands#truly only he could create such horrors (affectionate)
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I’m two ‘seasons’ of twelve into playing Noel the Mortal Fate, and absolutely loving it, but I gotta say - I keep thinking it would make a great anime. Because from what I can tell so far, it would. But I’m starting to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better off entirely as an anime, or manga, or etc. I’m not sure it needed to be a game at all - it’s not quite on walking simulator levels, I don’t think, but at least half of what you’re doing is advancing through choiceless dialogue, and even the gameplay bits are super linear. You’re given specific instructions, and the puzzle-y bits and battles are both pretty straightforward. There’s not much to ~figure out~, and even the secrets/bonuses to find are pretty rare and pretty simple. Like, I still have ten seasons left, so maybe that’ll change, but still.
I’m very much a person who’s happy to play through a game exclusively as a way of experiencing a story. So I’m not offended by it. The story itself is really interesting and very much to my tastes. But I also love when a story really takes full advantage of the medium it’s being told in, and some video games do that marvellously. Just pulling from things I’ve played relatively recently - Oxenfree is amazing that way, because while it’s largely walking and dialogue with some puzzle-solving mixed in, the frequent dialogue choices do so much to affect your experience of the story. The story of Spiritfarer got me so hard because the only way to advance the story is by pushing the characters closer to moving on, which you don’t want to do because that means losing them, but if you don’t keep pushing the story falls still and you have nothing more to learn. Noel, though, would be pretty much exactly the same story experience if told through a medium that requires no participation from the viewer.
Like I said, I’m only a sixth of the way in. I’d love to see things get more complex as I move forward. And either way I’ll see the story through to its end. These are just… some thoughts I’ve got rattling around in my brain at the current stage.
#however!#if you also don’t mind this kind of gameplay#or if you like watching playthrough vids for story reasons#and you like the sound of a proud teenage girl being tricked into making a deal with a powerful devil#and then the two of them going on a dangerous revenge bender together against those who wronged them both#while becoming close in a strange and unlikely fashion#THIS MAY BE A GAME FOR YOU.#Noel the Mortal Fate#Courtney thinks
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friendly reminder that astarion fell for kindness. he started genuinely caring because of kindness. because the "fierce leader" of their group helped people, helped him. it wasn't power, it wasn't authority, it wasn't seduction, it wasn't a promise of revenge - it was kindness, selflessness, companionship. it felt wrong and it felt strange but that's what got him to fall in love (or the closest thing to it). his "nice, simple plan" of seduction and manipulation fell apart because someone was good, because someone protected and accepted him. i think that says a lot about him.
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something that fucks me up so much is that the clones were literally created for the jedi and spent most of their artificially shortened youth learning about the jedi and then when they finally meet the jedi, the jedi had no fucking clue they existed.
and then they get to swoop in and save the jedi on geonosis but they're too late. most of them are already dead. it was the biggest massacre of the jedi in the war other than the one the clones perpetrated themselves.
but then the jedi take them on, even if most of them are initially reluctant, and they live up to the hype. in fact, most of them surpass it. they're not just brave and strong, they're kind. they value the clones more than the clones value themselves, and they spend most of their spare time trying to make the clones realize their own value.
but then the clones start learning about concepts like freedom and the inherent value of life and some of them realize hey, the way we exist is deeply unethical and, perhaps even more devastatingly, the jedi can't do anything about it. the republic needs us too much. we and the jedi are all that stands between the republic and the atrocities committed by the separatists yet most of the galaxy still reviles us for either doing too much or for not doing enough.
so most of them fall back on the comfort of being a good soldier. good soldiers follow orders. good soldiers save people. good soldiers are like the jedi, and the jedi are like good soldiers, and even if the rest of the galaxy is increasingly hostile, at least they have each other. the jedi are not perfect, but they are good, and that is what matters. even if no one thanks them, even if they must die for entire planets of people who think their only purpose is to fight for them and feel little to no gratitude for it, at least the jedi are in the same boat. at least the jedi care about the clones as much as the clones care about the jedi.
how devastating it would have been to suddenly know, without quite understanding why, that the jedi are traitors. even through the sudden strange pounding in their skulls, the artificial fugue state, the clones would have felt personally hurt. the jedi pretended to care about them, pretended to share their same self-sacrificial sense of duty, of honor and loyalty before self-preservation, when really they were plotting against them all along. no wonder the clones wanted revenge.
most of the clones died still feeling that way.
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I decided to make adult designs and "where are they now" stories for all the child tieflings who are confirmed to survive to Act 3.
Unbeknownst to her, Arabella was a latent sorcerer with a natural connection to the Weave. Her powers likely would've manifested at puberty, but touching the idol of Silvanus imbued her with wild druid magic, multiclassing her prematurely. This caused an internal struggle between the two powers, which threatened to rip her and anyone around her apart. Fortunately, with Withers' guidance, she set out to follow the Weave and found balance in her new, strange abilities. For years she traveled Faerûn alone, honing her skills and making peace with her past. Eventually, she became known as the "Wondering Storm", so attuned to nature some would mistake her for Silvanus' Chosen. Those who crossed her, however, would swear she was Jergal's Chosen; able to end a life with a single stare. Though not unkind, Arabella became feared by many for her stoic personality, mysterious presence, and peculiar command of the Weave. It seemed that wherever she was needed, she would inexplicably be.
Though Raphael went silent, Mol continued to enjoy, and perhaps abuse, the gifts from her patron. With the Absolute defeated, she quickly clawed her way up the ranks of the Guild, eventually becoming a pseudo ward to Nine-Fingers Keene. For years she would sharpen her skills, mentored by Keene and her most trusted associates, until she challenged the notorious crime lord to a duel for leadership. Much to her surprise, Keene lost, and was therefore forced to relinquish command to the young tiefling. Seeing the move as a betrayal, however, the Guild's loyalty was split, causing the criminal powerhouse to fracture. This led to a dark time for the Guild, with many in Baldur's Gate referring to it as the "Outlaw Civil War". Much blood was shed during this conflict, but eventually Mol turned the tides in her favour, running Keene and those still loyal to her out of the city. She would go on to rebuild the Guild in her image, successfully and more fearsome than ever; though, when she approached her old colleagues with an invitation to join, they all declined.
Once he managed to enter the city, Mattis tried to find his companions from the Grove, but he ultimately turned his sights to conning rich families with "panaceas from the hells". For a while, he flourished under this racket, until his scheme was exposed by jealous competition. This led to him being violently assaulted by angry customers, nearly ending his life—he only survived by rolling into a rapid canal. After being saved by a kind, impoverished couple who fished him out of the water, he spent nearly three months confined to a bed. His recovery was slow and agonizing, but hardly discouraging. Instead of succumbing to his misery, he took the time to plot his revenge. With the couple's help, he learned the laws of the land and revived his strength. Then, when able, he cut his hair, disguised his face, spied on the man who wronged him, and subsequently tricked him into signing his business over to the couple. Together, they turned the questionable business into something respectable. Mostly. Mattis' silver tongue finally became an asset, rather than a survival tactic, though he was never above a good swindle.
Ide and Umi took up arms during the Absolute's attack on the city, each of them basking in the action. Realising that Umi had developed an insatiable bloodlust, and itching for more battles herself, Ide suggested they enlist into the army. Though technically too young, the new General—appointed by High Duke Ravengard after the fall of the Absolute—accepted them as apprentices until they came of age.
Though their time with the Flaming Fist was imperative to their training and survival, they found the rules and hypocrisy of the troop disheartening, and even more so when the General died. Eventually they deserted, leaving Baldur's Gate entirely and starting a small band of vigilantes. To some, they were a menace. To others, they became heroes of the Sword Coast. No matter the case, Ide and Umi were inseparable, never seen apart.
Inspired by his saviours, Mirkon continued to write stories about his time in the Grove and his rescue from the harpies. He never found his parents, but he refused to live in the slum's orphanage. Life was hard for the young tiefling, often forcing him to grovel for food and coin. On the worst days, he found comfort turning his stories into songs, which he slowly morphed into a semi-profitable street act. This eventually caught the attention of Alfira, who one day happened to be passing by. Recognising his talent, and overjoyed to be reunited, she took him in and taught him how to play the violin. Together, they created a lucrative show that expanded well beyond the Elfsong Tavern, which aided Alfira in opening her dream college. She and Lakrissa would soon adopt Mirkon, and he would later become one of the most beloved and celebrated instructors at the college.
Though working as a hawker for the Baldur's Mouth kept Silfy fed and relatively sheltered, she grew listless. Dealing with rude and racist customers hardened her enough to snap back, resulting in her termination. With nowhere to go, she found herself wandering into Ramazith's Tower, where she implored Rolan for a job. Feeling for her plight, Rolan put her to work stocking shelves and filling orders. It wasn't exciting work, but she was safe and satisfied, until one day a customer's tome exploded, causing a flurry of rainbow flames that whirled into the shape of a unicorn. This event, though frightening, would inspire Silfy to start reading the books in the shop, with the help of Tolna and Rolan. To everyone's surprise, she proved to have an impressive aptitude for magic, and she soon found herself enthralled. Within just a few years, Silfy would be accepted into Blackstaff Academy, where she would excel in her studies and catch the eye of the great Vajra Safahr. She would offer Silfy a position in the school, as well as a mentorship, but Silfy would politely decline, graduate, and return to Bauldr's Gate. Her true home.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#tieflings#arabella#mol#mattis#ide#umi#mirkon#silfy#bg3 rolan#alfira#lakrissa#Vajra Safahr
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[...] More specifically, the cycle of violence in The Last of Us Part II appears to be largely modeled after the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I suspect that some players, if they consciously clock the parallels at all, will think The Last of Us Part II is taking a balanced and fair perspective on that conflict, humanizing and exposing flaws in both sides of its in-game analogues. But as someone who grew up in Israel, I recognized a familiar, firmly Israeli way of seeing and explaining the conflict which tries to appear evenhanded and even enlightened, but in practice marginalizes Palestinian experience in a manner that perpetuates a horrific status quo.
The game's co-director and co-writer Neil Druckmann, an Israeli who was born and raised in the [occupied] West Bank before his family moved to the U.S., told the Washington Post that the game's themes of revenge can be traced back to the 2000 killing of two Israeli soldiers by a mob in Ramallah. Some of the gruesome details of the incident were captured on video, which Druckmann viewed. In his interview, he recounted the anger and desire for vengeance he felt when he saw the video—and how he later reconsidered and regretted those impulses, saying they made him feel “gross and guilty.” But it gave him the kernel of a story.
“I landed on this emotional idea of, can we, over the course of the game, make you feel this intense hate that is universal in the same way that unconditional love is universal?” Druckmann told the Post. “This hate that people feel has the same kind of universality. You hate someone so much that you want them to suffer in the way they’ve made someone you love suffer.”
Druckmann drew parallels between The Last of Us and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict again on the official The Last of Us podcast. When discussing the first time Joel kills another man to protect his daughter and the extraordinary measures people will take to protect the ones they love, Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics," and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011. He said that his father thought that the exchange was overall bad for Israel, but that his father would release every prisoner in every prison to free his own son.
"That's what this story is about, do the ends justify the means, and it's so much about perspective. If it was to save a strange kid maybe Joel would have made a very different decision, but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do," Druckmann said.
And continuing, on the security structures featured in the The Last of Us Part II:
Besides the familiar zombie fiction aesthetics of an overgrown and decomposing metropolis, The Last of Us Part II's main setting of Seattle is visually and functionally defined by a series of checkpoints, security walls, and barriers. There are many ways to build and depict structures that separate and keep people out. Just Google "U.S.-Mexico border wall" to see the variety of structures on the southern border of the United States alone. The Last of Us Part II's Seattle doesn't look like any of these. Instead, it looks almost exactly like the tall, precast concrete barriers and watch towers Israel started building through the West Bank in 2000.
Illustrations, from the article:
The first barrier Ellie and Dina encounter when arriving in Seattle / West Bank barrier.
. . . article continues on Vice (July 15 2020)
Backup -> archive.today link /archive.org link
#free palestine#palestine#israel#gaza#the last of us#tlou#tlou2#zionism#i know this article has made the rounds here before but i wanted it archived in case vice goes down
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A curse for a curse
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader
Warnings: angst, sub!Aemond, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), overstimulation, orgasm denial, p in v, chains kink (idk if that’s even a thing but it’s there)
Word count: 8.5K
Author’s note: PLEASE READ THIS ->There's a little canon divergenge as in Rook's Rest is not happened yet, so Aegon is King and Aemond went to Harrenhal. Based on a request I got for sub!Aemond.
Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @ashovertheriver
Harrenhal tastes like curse and smoke when she enters the blackened and ruined walls.
She is sure, as she is sure that dragons are real, that this place has been cursed over and over since Balerion and Aegon the Conqueror proved that not even stone was safe against dragonfire.
The air is heavy in her lungs, as breathing through a thick layer of wool and her steps echo down the corridors in a strange way; it seems like a never ending sound, echoing through the walls and many lost ages.
But her stride is steady, her eyes fixed on the doors of the Hall of One Hundred Hearths where she is sure to find him, where she will end this thing for which she has no name, and yet it is draining her, wearing her out like a starved leech.
“When is Aemond coming back?” the Queen Mother asks, and then little Jaehaera asks the same question, even Helaena, in those rare moments of clarity, wonders about her brother. And each time, she doesn’t know what to say. Her lip grows stiff, her jaw clenches and she wonders obsessively from dawn till dusk. What is he doing there?
Why has he not returned now that Harrenhal has been taken?
What is he doing with that bastard woman?
“They say she’s a witch.” King Aegon says with his glassy eyes, putting down his cup as he looks around to choose a target on which to pour his anger. Wine seems to not work anymore, it is not enough to quench his thirst for revenge, and unfortunately, she happens to be the easiest mark.
“He killed everyone in that gods-forsaken place. Everyone except the witch.” He leans forward, watching her with amused anticipation just like a child who waits for his favorite toy to break. “Why did he not do it, sweet good-sister?”
He wants her to snap, and surely something does snap inside her, but she refuses to be humiliated like this.
“I do not know, your Grace. Perhaps my husband learned the Gods’ mercy and decided to spare a woman.”
His chest shakes violently as he laughs, and there’s nothing more humiliating than his laugh, not even the whispers traveling all the way from the Riverlands.
He’s taken her as his prisoner, keeps her in his chambers.
She has utterly bewitched him.
Every word is a stab to her heart and every time his word reaches her through a raven, the wound splits more open and festers.
He does not mention the bastard witch. He says nothing on the matter. He informs her of the war progressing, tells her he will come back soon.
Soon.
Soon was two moons ago and he’s still there.
It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks as she reaches the doors of Harrenhal. Soon is now.
The look on Ser Criston Cole is almost comical as two soldiers open the doors of the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. “Princess?”
She immediately looks around, but there’s no silver in that huge black hall.
“What are you doing here?” the Hand asks, walking to her “It is not safe for you—”
“Where is the Prince?” she cuts him off, her tongue hitting her teeth like a blade cleaving the air.
Ser Criston looks puzzled for a moment, and even if she doesn’t show it, anguish twists her gut. But then he says “The Prince is not here, your Grace. He’s out, on the battle camp.”
She looks at the soldiers in the room, watching her like some kind of weird creature—a lamb in a den of wolves. That is no place for a princess, no place for a woman. And yet, it is precisely her place.
She belongs to his side. As he belongs to hers. It’s what she’s been telling herself for two moons of sleepless nights.
She should have come here with him in the first place, war be damned.
“Leave, please.” She orders the men “All of you. I need a word with the Hand.”
They may not be used to taking orders from a woman, but they immediately leave the Hall like a pack of unruly children.
The thud of the doors is like some kind of curtain falling and she is finally free of this act, free to snap.
“What is going on here, Ser Criston?”
He shifts on his feet, looking down, looking utterly incapable to answer her question. “The situation in the Riverlands is quite delicate at the moment—”
“I don’t give a shit about the war, Ser Criston.” She almost hisses “You are perfectly aware of what I’m asking.”
His mouth shuts and she resists the urge to use her hands as talons to part his lips and grab the truth from his throat.
“What is going on between Aemond and the witch.” she states, she is not asking.
The Hand sighs deeply and takes a step closer. His whole demeanor changes, becomes confidential, almost fatherly. “My Princess, you must not believe the foul whispers that have been spread.”
She feels a glimmer of relief blooming in her heart, but not strong enough to relinquish the leeches sucking at her bones. “What should I believe then?”
“It’s true. The Prince spared her life.”
“Does he keep her in his chambers?”
“What? Seven Hells, no. She has her own chamber. A little room in the wing intended for servants.”
“Did she ever visit his rooms? Alone?”
Ser Criston looks down for a moment, his lips contracting. “You must understand, my Princess. There are no servants here.”
The wound between her ribs cracks open.
There are no servants here. Did she help him dress? Did she help him bathe? Did she do all the things she used to do? All the things only she was entitled to do?
“I want to see her.”
“Princess, it is not wise.”
“I believe it is very much wise, Ser Criston, since my marriage is at stake here.”
Ser Cole sighs again. “She’s…dangerous, my Princess. She’s eerily persuasive.”
“So, you think it’s true? That she’s a witch?”
“I’m not sure about her powers, my Princess. All I know is that…one of our soldiers spat in her face when she was still a captive by order of the Rogue Prince and she just…murmured something to this man.” He swallows lowering his gaze and takes a deep breath. “The next day he ripped out his own tongue with his bare hands, bleeding to death.”
Disturbing as these words can be, she keeps a steady and cold face.
“She claims she can read the flames. That they speak to her, that she saw all of this happening—the Prince coming here. She claims she saw the fate of the war.”
A long silence stretches between them, but however right the Hand’s reasoning may be, she is not keen to let magic and superstitions take what she has come here to retrieve. “Take me to her.”
Ser Cole stalls for a moment, trying to make her give up by merely looking at her. But at last, he caves. “As you wish, my Princess.”
Her room is completely bare, save for a hearth and a bundle of dirty covers and a pillow thrown on the ground.
She enters and the air feels even heavier, more cursed. She feels it like something weighing on her shoulders, drying her throat.
There’s a woman sitting before the fire, clad in rags with long black hair falling down her back. She seems to register the door opening and closing only minutes later, as if she was too focused on her fire staring. But then she turns her head and looks at the woman before her with a strange smile.
“Alas, you have come.”
The Princess blinks quickly, watching the woman stand up and walk closely to her, chains on her feet and hands. She feels something unsettling under her skin, behind her eyes, as if she can’t stop looking straight into the green eyes of the witch, not even if she wanted to.
“You must be Alys.” She says, quickly scanning the witch before returning, inevitably, like a magnet, into her bright green eyes.
The woman, whose age is impossible to determine, keeps her smile as she looks at the Princess from head to toe. “You are exactly as I saw you in the flames.”
“That will save us some time, then. No need for introductions.”
“No. I know who you are.” The witch says, curling her cracked lips some more “I can see his mark on you.”
“His mark?”
“Yes.” She says, unnaturally widening her eyes. “He leaves a mark on everything. Things, places, people. Much like me, I’d say.” From her throat gushes a high-pitched laugh, jarring and spiteful. “We have much in common, the Kinslayer and I.”
The way she utters the last words makes the Princess grind her teeth, as if they were…what? Friends? Allies?
Lovers?
“Have you been in his chambers all this time?” she finally asks and the witch has the boldness to roll her eyes. “Is that the only reason you’re here? To know if he cheated on you?”
“Answer my question.” The Princess orders.
“Darling, If I wanted to fuck him, I would’ve done it ages ago.” She starts laughing again, grinning mischievously and then she sighs. “You left your mark on him as well. I can feel you in his head. And you are so heavy.”
She doesn't know what to make of that. There is not a single reason why she should trust her word. And it's not just the alleged powers this woman may possess. It's her whole demeanor. Haughty, even though she is a bastard. Mocking, as if she looks at the young woman before her, and sees much, much more.
“Just as you, I’d say, since he’s forsaken his family and his wife to do whatever you’re making him do it with your witchcraft.”
She bursts out laughing, so loud that the Princess flinches and takes a step back.
“I’m not making him doing anything. I can’t play with his head. He’s too stubborn. I did not curse him, sweetheart. Your beloved prince is already accursed.”
“Then what do you want? Gold? Lands?”
“I do what the flames command. I serve no God, no King, no Lord. And neither does your husband. It was his choice to see.”
“To see what?”
“What the flames choose to show. I know how this war will end. I know which color will stain the other for good. I know who will sit on the Iron Throne.”
The Princess furrows her brow, confused and puzzled, apparently pleasing the witch who smiles again and nods. “Oh yes, he will make a sight to behold wearing the Conqueror’s Crown.”
Who? Aemond? On the Iron Throne?
“So that’s how you’re keeping him here. With visions and fantasies.”
“He asked me to. At the moment I’m more valuable to him than all his generals and soldiers put together. Besides, I know how to deal with him.”
The Princess almost laughs at this. “I see. You think you can handle him, don’t you? A wild dragon for you to tame, is that what he is for you?”
“Well, I’m not denying he’s handsome enough to please my eyes.”
“And once you have tamed him, what will you do? How will you handle him when you scratch the surface, and you see the neglected son? Lonely, misunderstood, maimed. The boy no one cared for.”
It is the first time the witch does not have a quick biting answer. It makes the Princess rejoice.
“All your witchcraft won’t be enough to handle him.”
The witch falls silent. There is a distant look in her eyes as she observes the Princess and the more she stares, the more the younger woman feels dreadfully uncomfortable. She starts to feel something in the back of her mind, like a gentle abstract push.
“Ser Criston." she says suddenly, swallowing but keeping a collected mask. "The keys, please."
“Your Grace, Prince Aemond will not be ha—”
“I’ll deal with Prince Aemond.” She says, looking straight at the witch and the ghost of a superb smile hovers on her lips “I know how to handle him.”
The Knight slides the keys from his armor and hands them to the Princess. She is ready to free the witch’s wrists, but she stops, locking her eyes on Alys. “There is a carriage outside. And some guards who will do whatever Ser Criston will order them. Take it and go wherever you want, there’s even gold in the—"
“I told you, I don’t want—”
“I don’t care of what you want!” The Princess snaps, raising her voice, and the pushing dissolves. “You live to serve the flames? Fine. Do it elsewhere, far away from us.”
Alys shuts her parched mouth, and simply nods. “As you wish, Princess.”
She removes the shackles from her feet, and then from her hands, holding the chains between her fingers. Alys touches her hurting wrists, before tilting her head down in some kind of bow, or maybe a mocking gesture. The Princess cannot bring herself to care.
The witch makes her way past the younger woman but at last, she stops for a moment, leaning back her head of dark curls to say “I did touch him, just once. He put a knife to my throat.”
Vhagar likes to nestle on the burned blackened towers of Harrenhal, like some kind of dreadful reminder of the legacy of ruins and ashes Balerion the Dread has unleashed on this cursed land.
Aemond enters the castle walls with his circle of counselors and generals. They crowd on him like bees with honey and he knows why. He knows that most of the time they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. They hang on his lips and jump like little good soldiers, jostling with one another in the hope of gaining something more when the war ends. A land, a title, one of them had even had the guts to offer a daughter to marry.
“I am not sure of what you are implying, my Lord.” He had said to the Lord with a dangerous black glint in his eye, as the fool thought it was wise to remind the Kinslayer that he and his wife had had no children yet. “Whether you are insulting me or my wife. I am sure of one thing, though. You will shut your hole before I take your tongue and feed it to my dragon.”
There were no more talks of unwed daughters between those walls.
“My Prince, if you allow me—” one of them says as they enter the Hall of the Hundred Hearths “We should give the lords who pledged for the Blacks more time to consider—”
“I gave them enough.” He says turning with a glare, looking even taller than he is, with his silver armor streaked with gold and the long green cloak. “They will pledge to my brother before dawn or I will bring dragonfire to their lands. Then we shall see where their loyalty lies while they burn to the crisp.”
They all shush and Aemond almost thanks the Gods for this brief blessed moment of peace. He ponders for a moment and then looks at a young soldier behind him.
“Summon the witch.” He orders “Bring her to me.”
He looks down to remove his riding gloves but out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the boy is still there.
“Uhm, my Prince, the witch is not here anymore.”
“What do you mean she’s not here?”
“S-she left, your Grace.”
The last word does not even leave his mouth the poor soldier feels a hand around his neck and the Prince is easily lifting him from the ground as if made of feathers. “You let her flee?!” he rages with his eye blown wide.
“I-I did—not your Grace!” the boy manages to croak while he’s choking, legs kicking like a chicken in the butcher’s hands.
“He’s right. I did.” Her voice cuts through the air and Aemond turns his head in a blink, looking positively stunned to hear his wife, to see her there.
He lets the soldier boy go and stares at her on the threshold of the huge Hall. He blinks with disbelief, as if he’s finally able to see after days and nights spent in a cloud of fog. Something shifts inside him him—something that has been wandering ceaselessly day and night, lifting the weight from his shoulders, from his black heart. Not Harrenhal’s weight, not Alys’. A weight far darker, a curse far more dangerous.
“Out.” he orders the Lords “All of you.”
They obey at once, scattering down the Hall only to stop for a moment before the Princess, to pay their respect.
The doors close but she stays on the threshold. His eye roams on her figure, once and then twice. He has never seen her wearing such a simple dress, easy to disguise her noble roots, her royal ones. And even though the mere sight stokes almost three moons of ugly and burning desire, it only makes him angry. It only makes him ashamed.
“What in the name of the Seven are you doing here?”
She walks to him and without uttering a single word or even sparing a glance to him, she begins removing the heavy armor plates from his body.
“What are you doing?” he asks with deep wrinkles on his forehead.
“My duty as wife.” She replies sternly, holding his arm “Or did you forget you had one?” she looks at him and sees rage blazing behind his eye—rage and maybe a tinge of hurt.
“Am I doing it right?” she asks removing the armor plate from his forearm “Was your witch friend better than me?”
The metal clatters on the ground as he grabs her arm, hard, pulling her close. “I asked you a question. We’re at war and you go strolling around the continent? Have you lost your mind?”
She tries to wriggle herself out of his iron grip, unsuccessfully as always. “How strange, that is a question I should ask you.”
“Enough.” He says grinding his teeth, digging his fingertips into her skin until her mouth twists with pain.
“Enough was two moons ago, Aemond. When you were supposed to come home, to your family, to me.”
“In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war, my dear wife. Things in war don’t go exactly as you planned them—”
“Oh spare me!” she cuts him off, freeing herself “Spare me the war talk, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you.”
“What did you expect exactly? Love letters?”
“I expected what I deserved. To know the truth. You have not mentioned her. Ever, not even once. Do you have the faintest idea of what I’ve been through all this time? Of all the dirt they have been spreading behind my back?”
“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says turning his back on her, as if he had not done that enough.
“No, you will.” She promises, circling him to look straight at him again. “They said you were so besotted with her to deny her leaving your chambers.”
“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says again, closing his eye for a moment.
“They said, and this was from the wretched mouth of your beloved brother, that you put a child in her womb since I was not able to give you an heir.”
“I don’t want to hear about it!” he shouts, and she knows she hit a nerve there, because he never shouts.
“Why? Does it make you ashamed? It should. I had to hear all of it. I had to endure it while you stayed here playing fortune teller with your witch whore.”
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and raises his gaze to look at her, dead serious. “You know nothing about her powers. She saw many things, happened precisely as she predicted. I needed her. I needed her powers and you had no right to send her away.”
“You needed her?” she repeats, pale with utter disbelief. “You needed her for what? For her to tell you how good you’ll look wearing the Conqueror’s Crown? To feed you with fairy tales while we risk our lives staying in the capital, unprotected because Dreamfyre can’t fight and Tessarion is still in Oldtown. What if the Blacks decide to attack us now? They have a dozen of dragons, we have only Sunfyre.”
“The Blacks will not attack.”
“Did she tell you this? Did she see this in the flames?” she can’t fight back the contempt curling her lips “Are you listening to yourself? Flames and visions to win a war? You poor fool.”
“Watch your mouth, woman.” he seethes “You don’t talk to me like this.”
“Or what? Are you going to chain me up? I kept her chains, you know? I thought you’d like a token of your time with the witch.”
“Did you come here for this? To make a scene like some common girl who feels threatened by another woman?” his lips turn upwards, curling and twisting with ugly deprecation “What do you think you know about the war? What is your contribution while you lie around in a lavish castle waiting for me to come back and fuck you? I’ll tell you. None. You can’t even perform your duty to give me an heir. And you come here to lecture me?”
The wound is rotting from the inside and he’s pouring salt on it.
“I came here for my dignity. As a woman, I have nothing else. I came here for your mother, who I fear will go mad with worry just as your sister. And lastly, to tell you that I’m with child.”
Aemond stills completely, so much that she thinks the witch’s curse is hitting him right now, no matter how far she is, turning him into stone.
“But it seems utterly irrelevant to me right now. So, go. Hurry! You might still find her.”
She moves to leave the room and he does it at the same time, trying to reach her, to stop her, but she flinches as he tries to touch her, battling his hands away.
Aemond utters her name, softly, and it makes her stomach turn.
“I will leave at dawn.” She informs him with a blank face “I won’t disturb you and your precious war any further. Fret not, husband. I will stay in my lavish castle like the good soldier I am, waiting for you to come back and fuck me.”
This is place is not only cursed, but it is also so freezing cold that she wishes for one of those direwolf furs the Northerners use to wear as she sits before the hearth in what she assumed to be Aemond’s chambers. The room is large, even larger than the ones they share in the Red Keep, but it’s completely bare and almost ominous with its black walls that stink of ash and smoke.
A cursed place, fitting for a cursed woman.
She has been for quite some time. Because she chose to stay by his side, because she chose to love him.
“We could turn to a Septon. Annulments are rare but possible. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins.” Her father had said in the aftermath of Lucerys’ death. She had looked at him like he was some kind of lunatic.
As if she could leave him, as if she could turn her back on him and marry another man.
As if he hadn’t left his mark on her.
She thought the Gods had cursed her for good, that was why, however much they tried, she couldn’t bear his child.
“A child is the highest of the blessings from the Gods.” Her mother had said during one of her last visits to the capital “How can they bless your union with a man so accursed?”
And yet.
She is impatiently waiting for the sun to set. Even if her limbs have never been so heavy, as much as her heart, she finds no reason to stay here, not when she can’t stand even the sight of him. But of course, how can there be peace in such a cursed place?
She hears the door opening. She knows his gait. She wished to hear it for two moons as she lied alone in their bed.
She hears him approach until he is beside her, but she does not look at him. She only sees his arm holding out a small tray.
“Eat.” An order, not an invitation.
She doesn’t even bother to look at the food, keeping her cold gaze on the fire. “I’m afraid I lost my appetite, dear husband. You can thank yourself for that.”
She can feel his eye piercing, burning her skin, the air coming from his nose short and harsh.
“Eat or I’ll feed you myself.”
She doesn’t bother to even answer this time.
Aemond stares at her, waits for her to look at him, he needs for her to look at him. “Is it true?”
“What?”
“That you’re with child.”
“In my husband’s lovely words, I lie around all day so I guess I’m capable enough to notice if I miss my moonblood.”
He leaves the tray on the stone mantelpiece, noticing a pair of chains lying there, and then looks down at her. “You will stay here with me.” Another order.
Another rejection. “I will not.”
“Yes, you will. You are not going anywhere, not in your condition.”
“I see. Now I’m worth something to you, am I not?” and finally she looks up “My duty is fulfilled, my womb is finally swollen. It’s a shame your witch left, we could have asked her to look in the flames and tell us if it’s a boy or a girl.”
Aemond lowers his shoulders and grabs her chin with the same cruelty he is used to brandish his sword, tightening her cheeks to prevent her from uttering another word. “I said enough.”
He watches as she tries to escape his grip, pushing his shoulders as her eyes grow more and more scornful, and he knows he deserves it. But that ugly thing breaks, snaps like a thin rope pulled too tight.
His mouth is on hers, fingers squeezing her cheeks to force her to take his kiss, which is not really a kiss, but more of an act of war, a relentless and rather quick siege, because she was already starving. She opens his mouth and this alone makes him whine with relief as his tongue slides between her teeth. Her hands grab his doublet collar, knuckles turning white and she angles her head, only to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.
He winces as he pulls his head back and sees her licking her lips, a dead distant look in her eyes. But her hands move, gently, through his silver strands. "My words are but blunt knives on you. I must hurt you in the only way I can."
“I did not touch her.” He says like an oath “Ever.”
“I know you didn’t.” she reassures him, but her eyes stay distant, as if even being this close now, they are also miles and miles apart. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you had.”
“Did you want me to fuck her now?”
“I wanted you to need me, not her.”
His eye is on flame, rage and shame dancing together, but it’s not aimed at her. He finds that the only person on the receiving end is none other than himself.
Something dies in his eye, his shoulders slump and his head falls forward, hiding what no one would dare even think of seeing on the stern, cruel face of Aemond One Eye.
He kneels before her and lays his head on her belly, catching her off guard. She can't see his face, and yet she has it before her eyes, clear and indisputable as something carved into stone.
The surface has never been so frail. She doesn’t even need to scratch it, she only has to lift it.
No man is so accursed as the Kinslayer.
She had thought it true enough, but what about Aemond’s curse?
“I know you feel guilty.” She says, or rather whispers, as if she’s being blasphemous by accosting such a word to such a man. “I know you feel guilty for Jaehaerys. For Helaena.”
His answer is mute, but it’s the loudest confession she could get.
He fists the fabric of her gown between his hands, knuckles turning white on the verge of breaking. She feels him nestling further inside her, like a child, and she closes her eyes for a moment, placing a hand on her wound to stop the bleeding, and leans over him, sliding her hands on his back, softly but firmly, as if helping him to stay whole, as if preventing him from breaking into pieces.
Aemond didn’t believe in curses.
He did not regret, not even for a moment, the murder of Lucerys. He did not care that the Gods had turned their backs on him. They had done it a long time before. He did not care of how people called him, of how they would baptize him in the annals of his lineage.
He had started to care, to feel guilt, after he actually killed his kin.
For he had killed Jaehaerys, he had killed Helaena.
Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer.
In his head, he heard that word with his mother’s voice, with Aegon’s, Helaena’s.
He found some kind of peace, of solace, only in his wife. But then the war was calling and he fled to Harrenhal. It was his duty, it was his way to try to make things better, to get revenge.
He had taken Harrehanl back and he knew he should have come home. But then the witch, the very same who had forced a man to rip out his own tongue, had spoken to him, talking about visions and flames, of predictions that happened to be alarmingly accurate, of him sitting on the Iron Throne with the Conqueror’s Crown on his silver head.
And he saw an opportunity, however blurry, to set things right, as they should have been in the beginning. He saw a way to get the upper hand in this war. And furthermore, as much as he did not realize it, he had found a way to stay away from the Keep. He would rather dare with witchcraft than return home and hear Helaena's wails cutting through doors and walls, and through his heart.
But next to the guilt had come the shame, for he had turned his back on his wife, for he could imagine the filth their enemies and non would spread, like shit flowing in the sewers.
He had tried to confine her to the back of his mind, but she became heavier and heavier as the days passed, along with the scarce letters in which he never mentioned the Rivers bastard.
She, of course, had sensed it immediately.
“You can’t win this war if your mind is elsewhere.” She had said one night, on one of his visits to her room.
He always stayed on the threshold, arms laced behind and poorly disguised distrust stretching his features.
“I told you to stay out of my fucking head.”
“You need not worry, my Prince.” She retorted with a chilling smile “I can’t play with your head. It’s too heavy…and ugly. And this woman…oh, she’s eating you alive.”
The witch is gone now, and yet she is still there.
She lingers on the walls of his chambers like a ghost, she imposes a wall between him and his wife and perhaps neither of them is strong enough to climb it. So, for days they just circle one another like wounded animals.
The Princess is staying with him of course. He has forbidden her to leave his side and she has caved, on one condition though. She has given him three days to deal with the Riverlands and then they will go home, together, where they are needed, where the mighty dreadful Vhagar is needed.
The day before their departure, Aemond returns victorious from the Riverlands. He has gained the allegiance of the lords in a way Visenya Targaryen would be proud of.
He will never forget the Lords' faces draining of color, probably pissing themselves, as Vhagar roared a war chant in the sky, and tongues of fire brushed the lands as warning.
He enters the chambers quietly and sees her crouched on the floor as her hands dig into a drawer, pulling out papers that she carelessly drops to the ground. Aemond closes the door firmly, announcing his presence, and she looks at him for a single moment before sighing in defeat, closing the drawer.
“Looking for my love letters?” he teases, for the first time after days of loud silence.
“I was looking for ink, actually.” she says looking below a paper left on the table. “Besides…love letters from you? Ghastly.”
He can’t fight back the smirk curling his mouth as she walks close to him and begins removing the armor. He looks at her face and she’s stern, almost rigid in her gestures, in the way she touches him, as if she despises doing it and yet she can’t help herself.
He doesn’t have a clue.
He doesn’t know that her stiffness has nothing to do with contempt. He doesn’t have a clue of how much she aches for him. Of how much she wants for him to take her, fast and rough, as he often used to do, because she can’t stand to be treated like some porcelain doll to be cocooned thanks to his child growing inside her belly. She wants to be more than that, she demands to be his wife again.
“Have you eaten?” he asks her, gently, and she wants to break something.
She can’t stand it anymore. She can’t stand all the questions.
Did you eat? Did you rest? Did you sleep?
“Is this how is going to be from now on?” she asks looking up “You acting as if you are my maid?”
He clenches his jaw and his face turns stern just like hers.
“First you accuse me to have forsaken you and now you don’t want my attention. Make peace with your mind, wife.”
“I want you to be my husband.” She says getting close to him until she smells dragon and ashes.
She wants to bathe in it. “I want to be your wife.”
Aemond’s eye lingers down on her throat, on her constricted chest, and his lips part. “You are.” He vows, locking his eye on her.
“Prove it.” She whispers tilting her head with a challenge dancing on her parted lips, hovering against his.
He is one breath away from swallowing her whole but he stops, melding their breaths in one, and he grins. “Are you going to bite me again?”
“As if you didn’t like that.”
A moment later his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her lip, her neck. His hands are everywhere, frantic and needy. She can feel he’s restraining from holding her too tight, but she wants, no, she needs more. She wants him in her bones.
They move without logic, clinging to each other, trying to assert dominance on one another. He grabs her wrists and forces her down on the chaise beside the hearth. He is looking at her in the same old way, as if he’s blind to anything else. She aches so much for him that she’s breathing hard, the word please climbs her throat, slides on her tongue, but she will not beg for him.
In all truth, she doesn’t have to.
He kneels on the ground like a pious man at the altar, and she hikes up her skirts, spreading her legs to place them on his shoulders, heels pressing on his back to bring him close.
“You know what you want, don’t you?” He teases with a feral grin.
“Curse you and your hideous smirk.” She says sliding on the chair to bring her apex close to his overly talkative mouth.
“You love my smirk.” He says grabbing her thighs to secure them around his face. “Besides, I’m already cursed.” He leaves a red mark biting on the soft skin of her thigh, looking straight at her and how she startles, whining in half pain half pleasure.
She catches a glimpse of the sapphire glinting between her thighs before her eyes fall shut and she moans unnaturally loud as he licks a stripe along her wet folds and up to her apex.
She is trembling with anticipation, with arousal that pools from her, glistening his mouth and nose. Her hips begin bucking against him and he moans contentedly as he buries his tongue inside her, lapping and tasting like a starved beast.
Her breath grows shorter and shorter for how close she is already, so much that he stops to look at her with a spiteful grin. “Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”
“Shut up.” She whispers hoarsely and pulls herself up just enough to grab his head, pulling his hair to force him to take where he left off. Her hips are rocking on their own against his face, nails scratching his scalp harder and harder as she comes undone in his mouth, while he hums with pleasure, drinking of all her. Eye fixed on her as he watches her throw her head back, spasming and trembling with a loud moan.
Her back hits the back of the chaise as she catches her breath and looks at the black ceiling in a moment of pure bliss. Two moons of anguish are but a distant memory, her mind is foggy, she doesn’t even remember the face of the witch.
He dismantles her legs from his neck and she looks down at him, cheeks red, watching as he climbs on her, unbuckling his belt.
“No.” she says, and she stops his hands. “Do you think I would make it so easy for you?”
Aemond looks at her, half puzzled half curious, and then she pushes him down, overturning their positions so now she’s sitting on his lap, feeling all of his hard length against her.
“It’s my turn to prove it.” She says raising an arm that goes on the mantelpiece behind them.
“Prove what?”
“That you’re my mine.” She promises, and Aemond hears the distinct sound of metal clinking.
She lowers her arm and he sees a pair of chains between her fingers. He is bold enough to smirk at her. “I thought you were the one who wished to be chained.”
“I’m not the one in need of a lesson.”
She grabs his wrist but he easily pulls away. “What if I don’t want to?” but there’s an intriguing glint in his eye, on the edges of his arched mouth.
“Then who will take care of you?” she asks with fake innocence, grinding on his cock, and she smiles as the air comes out of his mouth in a hiss. “Are you sure your hand will suffice?”
He looks at her with challenge, breathing slowly through his mouth, and he caves.
“Chain me.”
She smiles darkly and grabs his wrists, fastening the chains and then locking them to the sides of the chair. She stands and grabs his legs, sliding his back further down.
She notices his eyebrow rising and she looks at him. "I want you to be comfortable. I'm afraid this will not end so soon."
He swallows with anticipation and watches her as she slowly climbs back on top of him and begins to unbutton his doublet., pushing the fabric aside to reveal his diaphanous pale chest and her hand slides over it, over his ribs, stomach, and navel, halting his breath.
Her lips hover against his, swallowing his shallow breath, but suddenly her head dips down, leaving a trail of little heated kisses on his neck, on the planes of his chest.
He watches as she does that, feeling her lips like burning embers marking his skin. Her eyes lock on him and she opens her mouth engulfing one of his nipples, circling her tongue around it. He tilts his head back, lips parting to let a puff of scorching air out, and then she's grazing her teeth over the soft pink skin.
The chains metal clink as he winces.
She grins pulling herself up and slides a bit down his legs with her bottom, so she has open room to his belt. She begins unbuckling it, looking at him, watching the glare he’s giving her.
“I can’t tell whether you want to kill me or fuck me.”
“I need you to fucking do something.”
“Like what?” she asks, palming his cock through the fabric “Tell me, husband. I may grant your wish.”
He rocks his hips in one slow movement, trying to feel every inch of her hand, but it’s a faint touch that only makes him ache for more. “Move, grind on me.” His voice is imperative as always, but his tone is different—all heated and husky.
She frees him of the constricting belt and breeches and lays on him, releasing a blissful sigh when she feels the hot hard flesh colliding perfectly against her core. The chains clink again as he tries to move and she smiles, caging his snatched waist between her legs.
Aemond is panting quietly, trying to get a grip on his own body but he finds it’s a useless fight when he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.
But then his wife seems in favour of granting him some mercy. She starts grinding on him and his lips part some more, panting loudly this time, as he feels, and hears, the beautiful obscene sounds her wet flesh is making rubbing on him.
“Lift up your skirts. Let me see.”
She stops grinding and he almost whines with annoyance, moving his chained wrists in a useless attempt to grab her waist and force her to move again.
“I don’t like that tone, husband.” She says, and her voice is husky as well, her breath labored “Ask nicely.”
Aemond is silently starting to regret this whole thing. Patience was never one of his virtues, if he even has virtues. He’s completely at her mercy and cannot do anything but comply.
“Please. Lift your fucking skirts and let me see.”
“Hmm.” She hums smiling. “Better.”
Her skirts turn into a bundle of fabric around her waist and he dips his chin, looking straight at their flesh as she resumes her torture.
“Fuck” he utters, his eye growing heavy but he keeps looking, and he doesn’t have a clue whether it’s the rubbing or the mere sight of her coating his cock that draws a moan out of his throat.
“Do you see how I much I’ve missed you?” she asks hoarsely, grinding more and more firmly.
His head hits the back of the chair as he keeps panting and rocking his hips against her, lifting his waist as if desperately trying to slide inside her.
“I touched myself every morning. I woke up all wet and aching for you. And where were you? Here, plotting with your witch.”
“Enough of that fucking witch.” he croaks, a sheen of sweat is ghosting on his forehead. “Faster.”
She does the opposite. She stops altogether. And this time, he can’t do nothing to muffle the whimper gushing out of his trembling mouth.
The Princess tilts her head, savoring each moment, and soon his piercing glare comes back even sharper. “Once I’m free of these fucking chains, I’m going to fuck you senseless till morning.”
“Unless you are still chained to this chair in the morning.”
He watches as her hands hover on his thighs, a feather touch that drives him mad, that makes his hips buck uselessly. His lips twist, swallowing a plead his pride won’t allow him to let go.
But she hears it nonetheless, in the way his fingers flex and twist, in his chest raising fastly. It may suffice, but it doesn’t.
“Stubborn, are we?” she teases, just like her hands, barely touching down his navel. “Your witch got it right. She said you are too stubborn, that’s why she couldn’t play with your head. She couldn’t handle you.” her fingertips finally dip down and she can see the silent plead in his eye.
“I can, though.” her palm brushes the tip and he whimpers, again.
“Please…” he whispers impossibly low, too low for her liking.
“Louder, my love.”
His mouth twists again but the need, the ache is so heavy that it burns out all the pride numbing his tongue.
“Please…” he begs freely “Please, touch me.”
A groan rolls out of him as she finally grabs it, squeezing softly before starting a slow rhythm up and down. He pants loudly, hips moving on their own as he tries to fuck her hand with a steadier pace. “Don’t rush it.” she scolds him, placing a firm hand on his waist to stop his frantic movements.
“I can’t take it…let me come…”
“Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”
“You’re cursed, woman.”
“Takes one to know one. A curse for a curse.”
She looks at him, hair all ruffled and sweaty on his forehead, a painful pleading expression twisting his sharp features and she smiles victorious. “I have half a mind to leave you like this.” She says and for a moment, he dreads she’s being serious.
“Luckily for you, I’m just as greedy as you are.”
In a swift moment she nestles between his legs and he’s moaning loudly before he even has time to register anything, except her lips locking around his tip, sucking so harshly he thinks she’s going to utterly drain him.
She starts a steady pace, just as he likes it, taking all of him, down to the base untili it hits the back of her throat. The chains clink and clink against the chair as he twists his wrists, bucking his hips harshly to fuck her mouth as deeper as he can, enthralled by the lewd sounds she’s making.
“Gods, yes…” he moans watching carefully as he slips in and out of her “Yes…just like that, just a little more…”
She feels him tense inside her mouth, she feels him tense all over and she knows he’s dangerously close. She stops for a moment, licking her lips and looks at him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break the rule.”
Aemond groans with frustration, not having the faintest idea of what she’s talking about. He isn’t even sure he remembers his own name. He is just blood boiling and bones so tense they’re close to snap.
“What was it again?” she asks “Ah, yes. My seed belongs in your cunt.” She leaves a trail of soft kisses on his hard flesh and he whimpers once more. “My ever-romantic husband.”
“Fuck the rule, you’re driving me mad. Let me come.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Please.” He begs “Please let me come in your mouth.”
The Princess is merciful enough to grant his wish. She engulfs him once more and he moans loudly for how sensitive he is. She picks up the pace and pride washes over her, pooling between her legs, as she sees him writhing beneath her, moaning with his mouth open, eye closed shut and the chains clink like a frantic bell while he twists his scratched red wrists.
He curses and mumbles nonsense under his breath until he stills completely letting out a long and loud grunt, spilling abundantly inside her mouth. She swallows to the last drop, gently sucking the pulsing tip.
The chains are finally still and silent. He’s breathing hard and short with his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything.
That is until he winces, feeling her hand on his sensitive skin. He raises his head to look at her, almost puzzled. She smiles slyly, moving her hand up and down. “Did you think it was over?”
If he did not feel so spent, he would be utterly thrilled and definitely flattered.
“Seven Hells, woman, give me a bre—” words die on his tongue wiped out by a hoarse gasp as she takes him in her mouth again. But this time, she sucks so slowly that Aemond actually whines in pain. And she looks straight at him, while her head bobs, relishing every moment, watching as he comes undone beneath her, babbling pleads, begging her to stop and a moment later to keep going. His voice is breaking, cracking as he whines and whimpers, poised between pain and pleasure.
Soon though, she hears more whines of pleasure than pain, as gets harder and harder in the hot haven of her mouth.
Suddenly she stops, and just stares, savoring the sight before her. The cruel Aemond One Eye, chained to a chair in a mess of sweat and sobs.
“Untie me…” he says, trying to make it sound like an order, but it’s a pale imitation of his usual tone. His words are slow, sluggish.
“You are not in charge here, my love.”
“Then quit the act and fuck me.”
Perhaps, if she wasn’t so equally desperate for him, if she wasn’t leaking between her thighs, she would have prolonged this torture, this excruciatingly sweet punishment. But she can’t take it anymore.
She climbs on him, and it takes her the least effort to let him slide inside her. He slips his back further down that chaise so that his hips are angled just enough to thrust into her, fast and steady.
“Oh Gods—yes!” she moans throwing her head back, frantically bouncing on him.
“D’you miss this?” he rasps, with a tinge of his usual infuriating confidence “Did you think of this when you touched yourself? Missed my cock inside you, hmm?”
She clamps a hand on his mouth to shush him and he bites her palm, thrusting even harder, making her whine loudly until her throat goes dry and her sight go white. They fall in a wild frenzy, utterly intoxicated with each other, leaving bites and marks all over, sealing one inside the other with a curse much more dangerous than any kind of witchcraft.
They come together, as she clutches his head to her chest so tight that he can barely breathe. He rests his head on the chair, slowly catching his breath, and she nestles against him, still sank on him.
He moves his hands to touch her, wincing for his aching wrists.
“Untie me now, would you?” he asks softly on the crown of her head.
“I’m not sure.” She muses against his chest. “I’ve quite enjoyed having you at my mercy.”
“Who said I didn’t?”
She moves her head to look at him, a little smile starting to light up her face and he looks down at her lips, mirroring her.
“Besides, it’s your turn.”
She raises her eyebrows fighting back a smile. “Now?”
“Haven’t you heard? No man is so accursed as me.”
#a curse for a curse#liv (in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond x wife reader#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x wife reader#aemond smut#hotd fic#house of the dragon#aemond one eye
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⋆.˚✮ kooktrash masterlist ✮˚.⋆
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latest work: tempest | jeon jungkook [ apr. 21, 2024 ]
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──★ … coming soon
──★ … coming soon
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──★ the eros project
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ [ s | a ] dating show ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you didn’t expect to actually fall for someone in a reality dating show. Then Kim Taehyung came along and you had to battle between your feelings and what this show was actually about.
──★ rewriting love
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ [ s | a ] webtoon ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
when a mysterious blackout traps you inside the world of a webtoon you certainly believe it’s one big cruel joke.
──★ lover’s revenge
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13.4k | s | a | rockstar ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you dated Taehyung before he made it big, so it was easy to assume he’d forgotten all about you. but for the past two years you’ve been his muse even after your split. a forbidden love that never faded.
──★ tunnel vision
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13.4k | s | f | college/barista ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’ve just gotten yourself a job working with the campus crush, kim taehyung. he’s quiet and brooding but everyone is obsessed with him including your best friend. what do you when she asks for your help in dating him when he’s catching feelings for you instead? he’s supposed to notice her but he’s got tunnel vision when it comes to you.
──★ electra heart
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13k | s | f | fake dating ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
♡ just dumped by his cheating ex girlfriend, taehyung seeks help from the campus primadonna to make his ex jealous. y/n is spoiled, mean and filthy rich—everything his ex loathed. what happens when the two form a pretend relationship that leaves their hearts in great turmoil? welcome to the life of electra heart ♡
──★ love and rivalry
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 17.3k | s | f | e2l/college ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
kim taehyung is neither friend or foe, he’s more of an annoying fly always near creating chaos in your life. now he’s buzzing on about his new crush and begging for your help in exchange for his help with yours. like an idiot you agree though you signed up more than you can chew. just great.
──★ all you want
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13.1k |s | a | arranged dating/high society ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
in the world of high society finding your future partner took a lot of preparation. kim taehyung is one of the most sought out bachelors and he’s been roped on a blind date with Y/n, a spoiled rich girl not used to being told no. what happens when the two clash?
──★ his special secret
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆12.5k | s | a | college professor ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’re an art student who has recently broken up with your cheating ex boyfriend. he’s your art professor recovering from a divorce just a year ago. what happens when your relationship goes beyond that of a professor and his college student?
his special secret ||
──★ something about him
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 16.6k | s | a | yandere coworker ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
kim taehyung is nothing more than a man who works in the same office as you. he’s kind, charming, and unbelievably attractive but there’s just one downside to him. something feels off about the way he acts toward you and you’re not sure what but you know it has something to do with his little obsession with you. he acts strange at times, sometimes a little too lost in his own world, and changes his mood so fast you get whiplash trying to keep up.
you should feel scared or concerned but there’s just something about him that makes you ignore all the warning bells that go off in your head.
──★ the art of obsession
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 17.4K | s | a | dark academia ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.
──★ lace and luxury
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13.6k | s | sugar daddy ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
Money, Money, Money, must be funny in the rich man’s world. At least that’s how you feel working day and night to make end’s meet and still never having enough. Out of nowhere you get roped into a give and take relationship with a very powerful fashion designer who shows you the way into a life of luxury and lingerie. You’ve become his muse and in exchange he’s become your source of pleasure and riches. It’s a rich man’s world and you’re living in it.
──★ between roommates
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ s | a | roommates ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’ve got a crush on kim namjoon. Namjoon being jungkook’s friend, jungkook being your roommate. things get complicated somewhere down the line that leaves him regretting pushing you toward his own friend when he wants you just as bad. as roommates he knows you shouldn’t, but damn did he really want you.
──★ your power
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ s | a | ceo ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
the new boss at your company is hot, tatted, young, and you seem to be just his type
──★ bunny adventures
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ s | a | hybrid ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.
──★ my dear friend
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ s | f | f2l ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
just friends? keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.
──★ depend on me
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 13.1k | s | a | hybrid ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind
──★ never again
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 14.8k | s | a | neighbors ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
jeon jungkook is just your nosy neighbor who can’t seem to be anything less than a selfish, heart breaking, prick in your eyes. yet somehow he manages to wiggle his way into your life but is it enough for him to change your mind or will he prove your judgements right?
──★ the act of falling
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 14.4k | s | a | fwb ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
what was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.
──★ campus affairs
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 11.9k | f | s | f2l ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you transferred to a new college during second semester and you didn’t expect much excitement out for. that’s until jungkook came along and what had struggled to be a friendship was becoming so much more.
──★ fighting heart
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 15k | a | f | s ] boxer jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more.
──★ guys my age
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 9.5k | s | dilf jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.
──★ ditto
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 12.9k | s | a | established relationship ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’ve got everything you need right now, amazing boyfriend, amazing job, amazing friends, but when you receive life changing news you’re not sure how to bring it up to your boyfriend. your indecisiveness and failure to be open with him puts a huge toll on your relationship and he just wants to know that if he continues to love and walk the same path as you, you’ll do the same and ditto.
──★ romantic dreams
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 23.9k | s | a | yandere jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bare.
──★ seven days to love
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 14.2k | s | f | coworker jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
jeon jungkook is nothing but your obnoxious new coworker who can’t seem to get the hint that you’re not interested. he’s loud, clumsy, and a bit of a player who knows his way with girls. what started off as an immediate physical attraction toward you quickly changed to a full blown crush that jungkook just can’t seem to let go. for seven days the two of you must work together alone at the store and each day jungkook takes as a chance to get you to notice him.
──★ cool with you
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 14.6k | s | f | neighbor jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
your break up from kim taehyung sent you spiraling into what felt like a midlife crisis of tear stained cheeks and tubs of half eaten ice cream with a broken heart. after finding out that your neighbor, jeon jungkook, was eavesdropping on your meltdowns and came to find out that your ex was his old friend, he found himself wanting to comfort you. he knew the kind of guy Taehyung was and he didn’t want to see you beat yourself up over a guy who wasn’t worth it so in the end he helped you through it and was unable to ignore the growing attraction you felt toward each other.
──★ limerence
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 17.8k | s | a | ex!jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
a recent discovery of old VCR tapes takes you down a rabbit hole of self-pity, remembering what you once had and how it all went down the drain over youthful mistakes. suddenly, you find yourself playing back the old tapes of the best relationship you’ve ever had and all you can think about is how to get it back—if you could get it back
──★ million dollar darling
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆19.7k | s | rich!jk ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
jeon jungkook is well aware of how privileged he is to have been born into the life he was given. it was glamorous and influential yet close-knit and suffocating, something he thought he wanted to escape from. a trip back home to the circle of wealth and snottiness for his best friend’s million dollar wedding has reminded him of all the reasons why he wanted to leave in the first place… and all the reasons he should stay — the main one being you, the spoiled rich girl he knew was utterly perfect for him.
──★ lost and found
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 18.7k | s | friend’s ex boyfriend ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.
──★ tempest
․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ 31.2k | s | yandere boyfriend ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .
you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.
SERIES
──★ summer bummer baby
HIATUS
──★ love lies
HIATUS
#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#jungkook smut#bts#jungkook#bts smut#taehyung smut#jungkook drabble#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#min yoongi#park jimin#bts masterlist#bts masterpost#jungkook masterlist#taehyung masterlist#bts writer#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook request#bts request
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omg, i giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i read your abo hcs🤭
can i have bestfriend! mikey who comes over to the reader’s house (not realizing she’s in heat) and ends up mating & claiming her?
ty for all the juicy fics btw 😋
TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆
୨୧ alpha! mikey x omega! reader
— mikey claiming omega! reader
my masterlist : ☆
cw: sex, cockwarming, breeding kink
(it's only my third time writing full smut like this, so I hope it's not too bad!!)
you knew mikey since primary school, when innocent friendships bloomed easily. none of you knew your second gender yet, and you actually never gave it too much thought.
you grew up pretty close, the proximity of your houses making it easier for you to bond. mikey was carefree and seemed always sure of himself, these traits of his kept your future omega-self nearby.
being with him felt great. he was a kind friend despite his overly direct behaviour, he always got your back whenever school kids were being mean to you.
you guys were with each other through every stages of life. when you turned out an omega, mikey was quick to drive away students who wanted to have a taste of their freshly presented schoolmate. he was protective, never going overboard either.
it was safe to say you thought you guys would remain in a special relationship all your life. and mikey thought so too. for years, he had never seen you as something more than a friend, qualifying the protective position he took as nothing more than an amicable worry.
but lately, something had begun to shift within mikey. a subtle change that he quite couldn't put his finger on. at first, he brushed it off as nothing more than a passing phase, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months and he soon began to realise that his feelings for you were changing in ways he had yet to understand.
it started with small things — the way his heart skipped a bit whenever you laughed, the way his gaze lingered longer than before when you smiled - has your smile always been this bright ? he slowly came to crave your scent, unconsciously leaning towards you and watching the way your soft lips would move each time you talked.
mikey felt a pull at his chest just by thinking of his dear friend with someone else. will they be able to treat you right, and keep you safe ? mikey was just worried. he wanted to hear your voice, to hear your secrets and make sure you were not seeing anyone.
it was a week off, so mikey called you. it wasn't unusual for you to talk over the phone, even if you had a house at a five minutes walk away from the other.
but you didn't pick up your phone. and mikey noted how uncommon it was, you always did. he tried a second time and when he was denied again, he just gave up, giving you some time. upon seeing his missed calls, you'll call him back.
but you didn't, and not even a text was sent his way. he tried multiple times after a while and grew worried. you never were this silent online, not answering him for a whole day was strange, to say the least.
so he went out, took a few brownies emma cooked with him to give him a reason to come over, and crossed the street to your home.
he didn't bother making his arrival announced ; none of you ever bothered for such formalities.
clenching the doorknob, he frowned at how it actually opened, half expecting it to be locked. still, he came in, quietly making his way into your house. it was silent and dark, with the windows all wide opened, a cold breeze hitting his skin.
confused at first, mikey softly called out your name, putting the snacks on the kitchen table and getting rid of his jacket, leaving him in his plain white tshirt. "y/n ? are you in there ?"
the absence of response pushed him to keep going, dangerously approaching your room. he stopped mid way, when a few noises came out from the end of the hallway. "y/n ? is that you, everything fine?"
as he stood right behind the door, mikey could now decipher the said noises. soft desperate cries, erratic breaths and an intoxicating smell embalming the air, seemingly seeping from every hole under your door.
mikey took a deep breath, connecting the dots and cursing himself for coming this far to you —you were in heat. the omega he grew obsessed with, was right in front of him, the wall, the only thing keeping him away from his growing urge to just burst in.
"m-mikey ? is it you ?" despite your weakened state, your friend was close enough for you to recognize a foreign smell inside your house. mikey probably didn't even notice his own pheromones started to spread, instinctively reacting to your erotic ones. fuck you smelled so good.
"I'm sorry I'll leave, I didn't know you were in heat". as overwhelming as his need to claim you was, mikey didn't want to risk your trust.
"n-no please mikey stay!" you were in a haze, too high off of your wish to to be taken to actually have any clear thoughts. and mikey knew that, but he didn't want to take advantage of you.
"I just came here to make sure you were doing fine, and give you some snacks emma made. I'll leave and lock your door, this isn't safe in your state. beside, I don't want you to regret anything, you're not thinking straight" it took a great reasoning for him to actually ignore his instincts screaming at him to just barge into your room and take you right here. breeding you until you're full of cum and exhausted to the point you can't walk straight. dirty thoughts are flooding his mind, the whole situation sending blood to his cock.
"no please, I know I won't ! I'm still clear enough to know what I want, they barely just started today. please mikey". pleas fell out from your mouth. and too overwhelmed by the consuming need for release, you can't even get up to pull him to your nest.
"or is it that you don't want to do it with me ?" mikey sighs heavily, body all tensed up. this sent a growl down his throat, you only whined in response, scared at the prospect of the alpha you desire not wanting to mate with me.
but, of course he does, that's the only thing he can think about right now. and whenever his own ruts hit, he's ashamed to admit your body is the image he pictures each time.
"please mikey, I just really need you right now. I wouldn't do it with anyone else if not you" you begged once more, voice growing even more desperate. a few salty tears rolled down your face at the frustration mikey was submitting you to.
and just like that, mikey was right in front of you. he took in your whole form, shaking and sensitive, desperately awaiting a touch.
you wore only your underwear, the heated room feeling too much. despite your opened windows, some hair stucked to your damp forehead, and the blankets were since then long gone, thrown out of your nest.
you looked heavenly in mikey's eyes. actually, you always looked perfect, not a day passed without mikey admiring your dreamy features secretly. but today particularly, something seemed different.
it was the way your eyes slowly looked up at him, lust and envy clouding your vision, and the way your body seemed to immediately attract him to you, legs spreading as if they had a mind of their own, your heartbeats quickening and scent getting progressively sweeter to tempt him even more.
there was no turning back. after witnessing such a delightful scene, mikey would never be able to turn around, close the door and act like nothing happened. you had him right where you wanted and he was more than willing to comply to your wishes now.
"please mikey, it hurts"
by now, mikey's instincts had fully taken over and an ardent desire burned inside of him, praying him to just take care of the delicate omega laying in front him.
"yes I know baby, and you did really great on your own, waiting for me to find you, all spread out and pretty". you reached out for him instantly when mikey came to join you, you emitted a satisfied purr, happy to finally have the alpha you longed for give in to your demands.
he didn't wait long before starting a short foreplay, kissing, licking and sucking every inch of your skin, leaving tiny bite marks all along your neck, insisting on your scent gland.
he brought his fingers to your entrance while continuing his assault on your neck and collarbone. he massaged it slowly, observing your reactions to know exactly where it felt good. he kept going for a few minutes before stopping, throwing away your bra and finally pushing aside your panty, giving more access to his hands.
and you felt one finger entering you, his mouth now sealed to your nipple. his tongue rolled against it, lapping expertly while drinking in your moans of pleasure. he kept bullying your heterogeneous zones, in hope to hear more of you, to see you completely break under him, just like he always wanted to see you.
"that's it baby, moan for me, let me hear your pretty voice"
and moan you did, especially with how three of his fingers were now sliding in and out of you with a sweet speed you couldn't get enough of. you had tears building up in your eyes and you watched as a string of saliva connected mikey's mouth to yours. his finger felt so great, and his mouth, now attached to your lips, turned you absolutely breathless. but still, it wasn't enough, you needed more.
"please mikey. I want you in me, please I want more" the friction of mikey's fingers felt good, but you were too far into your heat to actually need foreplay. the slick you produced was enough for mikey to just fuck you without any prep.
"I know I know baby, I'll make you feel so good don't worry" he stopped his movements, your fluids coating his fingers. he licked them, looking at your droopy eyelids.
you waited patiently for mikey to undress himself, throwing both his tshirt and your panty aside, before finally getting rid of his bottom. you watched eagerly his length revealing itself to you, a sight which only made you drool. and you could only wait for mikey to give you what you wished for, completely at his mercy.
you were now fully naked, squirming in front of mikey. he contemplated you again, your honeyed scent driving him crazy by the minute, and the way your pulsating core seemed to call out to him was very much a sight mikey could get used to if you let him.
"I've wanted this for so long, God you're so beautiful"
he let his hands travel all around your body, kissing you passionately while whispering praises of how pretty you looked.
"that's it baby, lay nice and still for me. you're doing so good". and you did, waiting expectantly, hungry for his touch and affection. you couldn't care less about your dignity, it just felt great to want him, obey him, beg him. whatever he had to offer your body, you would accept it with a smile on your face.
and with all his restraint, mikey entered you in one painfully slow thrust. you moaned louder, eyes shutting by themselves with the intrusion, and "yes, yes, yes" flowed out from your lips.
he didn't let you any time to adjust, he knew you didn't need any, and immediately started rocking his hips. he let out low growls of pleasure, mouth right next to your ear. you drank them in, feeling pleasure building up inside not only from the relentless pace he was going at, but the satisfaction that your omega had succeeded in making her alpha feel good too.
you were desperate for validation and release, clawing at his back with weak hands, legs spread wide open for your alpha. your tits bounced with each slap and mikey's hips connected with yours in a excruciatingly delightful manner.
with the way your brain was clouded with pleasure, you could only chant his name. if only you knew what your desirous pleas did to him.. knowing you'd let him to anything to you was a major turn on that kept mikey yearning for more.
"you're doing perfect, that feels incredible baby". reassuring you, he maintained his pace, capturing your mouth for a heated kiss before sucking on your skin, whishing for it to leave deep red marks.
fuck, mikey wanted to mark you, claim you and breed you in every way possible. he didn't think he would be satisfied with just one round now that he finally had you under him. he was going to take such good care of his precious omega, fucking you dumb until you can't think of anything else but him.
he felt you clenching around him, your tight hole pushing him closer to the edge. "just like that, good girl, you're gonna make me cum". and you so wished for him to cum inside you, filling you up to the brim with the seeds you desperately wanted.
slapping thighs, wet noises and erratic breaths were the only thing you could here. and the pleasure mikey granted you, the way his strong scent enveloped you and how his fingers found your clit again to help you chase your release made you see stars. not a single thought could make their way into your brain, all you could think about was the heavenly sensations you were experiencing right now and mikey's strong chest on top of you.
you begged for him as soon as you felt it come closer, scratching his back, mouth wide opened and tongue lolled out. your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and you thanked mikey for giving you this much pleasure. "that's right baby, take all of it". his thrusts were getting sloppier with each passing second, announcing your coming climax.
you both came at the same time, with a high pitched moan for you and a deep growl for mikey, which always managed to send shivers down your spine. you felt his cum flow inside of you, painting your insides with a white fluid.
and you took it all, just like he told you, hoping for more praises but too high off of his cock to do anything else. he kissed your temple, looking into your exhausted eyes while slowly going in and out of you. you both tried to catch your breath after bliss took over you.
"you did so good for me angel, such a perfect omega". you chirped happily in response, content about his satisfaction with you. you couldn't talk, heat turned you into a submissive mess.
you let him cuddle you from behind, cockwarming him to make sure you didn't spill any drops of cum, and you stayed put for him to do anything. he kissed your shoulder softly, whispering about how good and obedient you were.
he liked the calming feeling of his cock plugging your wet pussy, taking you like this felt so good and heightened his already possessive thoughts about you.
you were so perfect, you took your alpha so well and now you're staying still for him to pour his cum into you. he wanted to keep you all to himself, fuck you throughout all your heats and never let you go after someone else. the claim he put on you wasn't just out of sexual interest, but genuine love he had for you. and now that he had fucked you, it felt like everything was falling into place, his sense of purpose reaffirmed.
he had you, his lovely and delicate omega, waiting for her alpha to wreck her and turn her into a sobbing mess.
he looked forward to the rest of the day.
"now were not finished baby, we'll need a lot more if we want to go through your heat smoothly, right?"
#cannelle★#omegaverse tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers a/b/o#a/b/o tokyo revengers#alpha tokyo revengers#hybrid tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers hybrid#tokyo revengers omegaverse#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo revengers headcanon#tokyorev x reader#mikey fluff#mikey imagines#smut mikey#mikey x reader#alpha mikey#alpha!mikey#anime omegaverse#omega!reader#omegaverse anime#tokyorevengers headcanons#tokyo rev x reader#yandere tokyorevengers#omegaverse tokyo revengers headcanons#mikey x you#mikey omegaverse#mikey abo#omegaverse smut
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ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna drabble-headcanon thingy part 2 | part I here
w/c - 750
cw: manga spoilers (although I'm only on chapter 180 so if it kind of doesn't make sense with the rest I'm sorry!!)
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who wakes up a thousand years later, now trapped in a boy's body, unaware of the fact that you, too, had made a deal with the devil to satisfy your yet unmet need for revenge.
Hein Era
"You must be Kenjaku," you said, relief washing over your body. It has been three long years since you've decided to find the man, the journey wearing you out, turning you into an empty shell in tattered rags.
"May the traveler who knows my name introduce herself?" He proposed, not making the effort to turn around from his position over the cooking pot. The shabby hut you stood in and his mild demeanor hardly lived up to the reputation of the most vicious man to set foot in Japan in eons.
And so you do, with a deep bow and a mutter of your name, "I've come to an understanding that to kill the man I wish dead might take more than one lifetime," you proclaimed, "and I've been told you're the one to turn to."
Tokyo, 2018
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna felt something strange the moment Itadori Yuji fell face-first into Tokyo Colony No. 1. However, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, like the dull wistfulness of an old perfume. Itadori Yuji sensed it too, but had little time to muse over such things when he was too busy fighting to try to locate Higuruma Hiromi.
"Kogane, show me player Higuruma Hiromi," you order, looking at the information popping up, "his points are gone. Is he the one who changed the rule?" You don't wait for an answer before continuing, "It doesn't matter; he might still know something. Ikebukuro's close now."
You walk through the concrete and metal jungle; these people have built themselves miles upon miles of castles, you think, Sukuna probably enjoys watching them crumble.
When you approach the theater you were told Higuruma resides in, a boy walks out. As soon as he catches a glimpse of you, he halts, standing on guard on the other side of the road.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna has seen many faces, but yours was one that hadn't faded from his memory by the passing of time.
"I don't want to fight!" The boy exclaimed from across the road, but his shoulders were drawn back, fists curled near his pockets.
"I do not wish to fight either!" You shout back, thinking that another battle may wash off the remains of your strength. Besides, what good would it do to fight a young boy? Although only the look of his pink hair made your teeth clench and stomach tighten.
You watch the boy take a seat on the pavement, "Are you hurt?" You inquire, slowly drawing closer across the pavement.
"Just taking a breather!" He shouts, but you decide to approach regardless.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who laughs. He howls like a maniac inside Yuji's head, sending strange vibrations throughout the boy's body.
"Are you alright?" You ask the boy, watching him nod as he gulps the water you handed him. The resemblance is striking, you think, but perhaps I'm just thinking too much of it.
"Thank you," he puts the empty water bottle by his side, "I'm sorry I drank all your water."
"It's nothing." You assure him, "Have you seen Higuruma here? I've a question for him."
"I don't think he's the kind to answer questions," Yuji reflected, getting up from the sidewalk.
"I won't leave him much of a choice." You asserted, watching the boy's doubtful expression, "Do you have any insight you may offer on his technique?"
"Well, I don't think I understand it, really, but.." Yuji starts explaining, watching your brows furrow as you nod along at his descriptions.
You thank him, parting curtly before turning away towards the theater.
"Wait!" Yuji exclaims behind you, "What's the question? Maybe I'll save you the trouble."
You doubt his words, but turn back to face him, "There's a man I'm looking to kill," you disclosed, "trust me, you'd want him dead too,” you chuckle, pausing for a moment, but deciding there's no harm in asking, "Sukuna, do you know where he is?"
Yuji freezes, his heartbeat quickening at the mention of the name, his wide eyes pointed straight at you.
"Didn't think so," you sigh.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who pops out as a mouth carved in Yuji's cheek, causing you to jump back slightly at the bizarre sight while he taunted loudly;
"You're not going to tell her, brat?"
_
tag list: @saoirseirose, @marimeown, @http-dilflvr
Thank you guys for the wonderful comments on part one, hope this one doesn't disappoint
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x y/n#ryoumen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#ryomen x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you#sukuna#ryoumen sukuna x you
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I have So Many thoughts about Scum Villain I have so many feelings I am overflowing with Them I am drowning in it I am dying
Shen Qingqiu telling everyone (including himself!) that he didn’t mourn for Binghe, okay? He did not mourn for him! He just repaired his first sword and buried it in his back garden so he could sit by it for hours at a time! He just felt so guilty that he concocted an entire elaborate ploy to off himself but still live so that Luo Binghe could get revenge on him! He just stopped eating because he didn’t have to eat in the first place and food tastes bland when it’s not made by Binghe! He called out Binghe’s name and compared Gongyi Xiao to Binghe and thought about Binghe at least once every three sentences, but he was Not mourning! He was just vibing, okay, you don’t get it-
The extra where Shen Qingqiu sees Luo Binghe during the five years he was dead. And Luo Binghe is working diligently and always busy and makes food everyday like he’s waiting for Shen Qingqiu to wake up. And he says he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it, but he takes it for years and would’ve taken it for even longer if he had to. And he holds Shen Qingqiu’s body to feed him qi and Shen Qingqiu recognizes it as the way he held Luo Binghe when he got hurt. And even though loterally everyone thought Luo Binghe was doing awful things to Shen Qingqiu’s body, all evidence points to him just holding it. Luo Binghe never touched Shen Qingqiu inappropriately and he was so sad and he was so broken.
The part where Luo Binghe says “Theoretically, how would someone go about showing another person that they have strong feelings for them?”
Mobei-jun: “Have you tried beating him up three times a day?”
Luo Binghe: “Mobei-jun, you are uninvited from answering.”
Shang Qinghua thinking about Peerless Cucumber everytime he gets insulted and getting nostalgic about it, but then pretending he only “just remembered” the username when he actually meets Shen Qingqiu and finds out he’s the one Shang Qinghua has been fondly remembering for literal years. You only remembered just barely, huh, Shang Qinghua? Yeah, okay, sure…
Shen Qingqiu was purposefully pretending to be stupid so that Liu Qingge would beat up his own Bai Zhan Peak disciples. Shen Qingqiu finds out they were bullying Luo Binghe and vows to get revenge, he was purposefully playing dumb so that Liu Qingge would volunteer someone to come up and then he’d go, “whoop, haha, silly me, you were right, Shidi :)”
Shang Qinghua comes back from a trip and everyone is talking about how weird Shen Qingqiu is acting and he’s like “What? What happened? How is he acting strange?” and Yue Qingyuan replies “He had a peaceful conversation with me for two hours” and Shang Qinghua immediately goes “He’s cursed, he’s definitely cursed, is he dying??”
Everyone else: “Shen-shixiong is being nice to us…”
Yue Qingyuan: “Is there any way to get Shen-shidi back to normal?”
Everyone else, internally: “Maybe, but I’m not looking for it.”
The entire Holy Mausoleum section. It’s stuck with me for two years. I love all of it. From beginning to end. The entire section, the moment Shen Qingqiu wakes up in a coffin to the moment Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe get out. All of it. Every single thing that happens is comedy gold and I will never get over it.
But of course there are highlights.
Shen Qingqiu, knocking on a coffin he can’t open, trying to hide from the things wandering around trying to kill him: “Excuse me, may I come in?”
Tianlang-jun, inside that coffin: “Sure.”
Shen Qingqiu just casually carting his boy Binghe around. Hanging out. Trying not to die. Getting stabbed multiple times and having plants grow out of his legs. The usual.
The Old Huan Hua Palace Master being a human stick. At first, Shen Qingqiu is like “omg Binghe is insane.” Then, after the Old Palace Master acts creepy towards Binghe and kind of implies creepiness about Binghe’s mom, Shen Qingqiu goes: “No, wait, yeah, this guy deserves this and worse.”
Shen Qingqiu: sits up in his coffin
Meng Mo: “I can’t help you wake up Luo Binghe.”
Shen Qingqiu: lays back down in his coffin
Meng Mo: “What are you- Are you going back to sleep?!”
Shen Qingqiu calling Zhuzhi-lang “Xizhi-lang” and Zhuzhi-lang tripping over his own feet then just sighing and letting him do whatever
Tianlang-jun: “Why do you know so much about the Holy Mausoleum?”
Shen Qingqiu:
Shen Qingqiu: “LOOK a DISTRACTION!”
Luo Binghe: “Why do you know so much about the Holy Mausoleum?”
Shen Qingqiu: “I read about it in one of Qing Jing Peak’s books.”
Luo Binghe, previous head disciple who has all of the books that have ever been on Qing Jing Peak memorised: “I see. I don’t recall that one.”
Shen Qingqiu:
Shen Qingqiu: “Oh hey look, a distraction-“
Tianlang-jun asking Shen Qingqiu to help him up and then his arm popping off.
Tianlang-jun just generally being the weirdest fucking guy. Tries to be a wingman for his nephew. Helped conspire with his nephew to bring a dead guy back to life. Has been stuck under a mountain and says it was for ten years, despite the fact that it was almost certainly longer than that. Sings the song about Shen Qingqiu fucking his son and then bluntly asks “Did you fuck my son?” Says “I was looking forward to meeting you” specifically because of the song about Shen Qingqiu fucking his son.
Tianlang-jun, just in general, is one of my favourite parts of Scum Villain. Like, he’s so… he’s my poor little meow meow. He is my scrungly. He literally falls apart and is just kind of like “Again? Dang.” A bunch of cultivators show up to thwart him and he’s like “I expected more of you.” He realizes that Shen Qingqiu, Zhuzhi-lang, and Luo Binghe were all in the same bed together and is like “Does Shen Qingqiu always need two others?” He walks in on that scene, only seeing Zhuzhi-lang and Shen Qingqiu, and says “Continue, please, don’t let me interrupt.” Finds out his wifey wasn’t apart of the plot to trap him under the mountain and even tried to save him and immediately melts like the marshmallow-hearted maiden he is.
Pre-trapped-under-a-mountain Tianlang-jun is a treat too. Finds his nephew and immediately says “You’re so ugly. Have a bunch of soldiers and land. Bye.” Meets Su Xiyan and becomes insufferable. “Zhuzhi-lang, am I ugly? Zhuzhi-lang, don’t you think my face is worth more than two silver pieces? Zhuzhi-lang, human women are so different than what I’ve read. Zhuzhi-lang, be honest, am I obnoxious?” He literally tries to barter over how attractive his face is and is legitimately pleased when Su Xiyan says it’s worth a gold coin. Zhuzhi-lang describes him as being the sugar baby and Su Xiyan being his sugar daddy, but Tianlang-jun not only doesn’t mind, he even seems to enjoy it. Zhuzhi-lang describes him as a pure-hearted maiden falling for a roguish cultivator. Zhuzhi-lang has the terrible realization that, in his own metaphor, he’s the handmaiden who follows her innocent lady around trying to keep her out of trouble.
My favourite part will always be the reveal though. The reveal that, after a whole novel dreading it, Luo Binghe is the antagonist. Luo Binghe purposefully led these cultivators and monks and priests to Tianlang-jun and let them all think Tianlang-jun was the one fuelling Xin Mo. Tianlang-jun says “I can’t even fuel Zhuzhi-lang’s human form, how could I fuel Xin Mo?” and everyone feels like they were thrust under cold water. Luo Binghe stands there and smiles and adjusts his sleeves and doesn’t care because none of these cultivators can touch him, most of them were taken out during the fight with Tianlang-jun, and Luo Binghe has basically already won.
He says that he hates Shen Qingqiu choosing others over him. Shen Qingqiu always chooses someone or something else. Shen Qingqiu always leaves when he asks him to stay. Luo Binnghe says that he’s going to make sure Shen Qingqiu has no other choice. If Luo Binghe isn’t his first choice, then Binghe will become his only choice. He’s willing to destroy the human realm and the demon realm both so that Shen Qingqiu will only be able to choose him.
One of the monks is like “That’s kind of fucked up. You’re just going to make him hate you.”
Luo Binghe: “Shizun can hate me all he wants, as long as he never leaves. And he won’t be able to leave.”
Luo Binghe is the ultimate villain. He is literally unstoppable. He is almost totally unkillable. He’s the final boss, but he’s a boss who’s always scripted to win. He’s more powerful than all of them combined and he’s gone actually insane because he can’t control Xin Mo. Xin Mo is feeding all his insecurities and Luo Binhe decided that the cure was to tie Shen Qingqiu to him with a leash too tight to escape.
He is absolutely terrifying, in this moment. He’s insane. He’s outright telling everyone that he’s destroying everything they love because if he doesn’t, Shen Qingqiu might choose one of them over him.
He’s - so - cool!
Luo Binghe is always cool, he’s so badass, but this moment just cements how absolutely unhinged he is!! He is insane!! He is manipulative and silver-tongued and adaptable!! He is grabbing the narrative with both hands and forcing it to be the way he wants it to be! He’s so cool, he’s so very cool, and I get chills when I read this part, he’s too cool!!
And I’ve already made a long post about how meaningful it is that Shen Qingqiu ultimately does choose Luo Binghe. Even out of a world-ending event, he still chooses Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu only didn’t choose him before because he didn’t know that was an option. For the rest of the novel and all the extras that take place post-canon, he seeks out Binghe. He’s the sticky one.
He says he hurt Luo Binghe’s feelings by saying he didn’t want to sleep in his bed and he’s upset because he was going to give in if Binghe just pushed a bit further! He thinks Binghe is in danger and takes him to Qing Jing Peak and tells everyone not to bully him and tells Luo Binghe that he can beat up the Bai Zhan Peak disciples as much as he wants, as long as they don’t die. He patches him up and just generally sticks to him. In the extra where Binghe shrinks, he takes baby Binghe everywhere. He holds his hand and he’s obsessed with how cute he is and he can’t get over how cute he is and he wants to show off to everyone else how cute he is. He’s having the time of his life, and only gets upset when everyone thinks baby Binghe is his child because Luo Binghe is at least eight, when would he have had him? And he’s a man, that too.
(Ming Fan: “I just assumed Luo Binghe was a demon and demons could do what they wanted.”)
Shen Qingqiu travels everywhere with Binghe and teases Binghe and likes admiring Binghe because Binghe is so handsome and charming and wonderful and-
The succubus extra where he goes to a succubus’ cave with Liu Qingge and is too flustered to look at the naked women everywhere and is very impressed by Liu Qingge’s disinterest in all of them. Gets his fortune read because he thought it might be fun and is like “…yeah, okay, sure, like this is true” and it turns out to be completely true. Thinks Madam Meiyin is weird because she never even officially joined Binghe’s harem, what a weirdo, who wouldn’t want to join Binghe’s harem? Pushes Liu Qingge into a pond to help him get over sex pollen.
Shen Qingqiu is such a madlad. He transmigrates and is like “I’m not going to be stupid and panic and make everyone suspicious of me 🙄” then becomes the most suspicious man on the planet by treating his martial siblings and disciples slightly better than dirt. He’s as obsessed with Luo Binghe as Binghe is with him, but pretends (poorly) that he isn’t. Agrees to do what Binghe wants to do while admitting that Binghe is definitely manipulating him, but Binghe is so cute, how can he say no? Thinks his little white lotus disciple is as pure as a maiden while Luo Binghe is over there desperately trying not to get a boner.
Shen Qingqiu never figures out that Luo Binghe messed up excersizes on purpose as an excuse to cling to him. It doesn’t even cross his mind. He thinks Luo Binghe was just clumsy. He thinks it’s a bit weird, since Luo Binghe is so good as everything else, but figures it’s just something Binghe was going through. Literally never crosses his mind that it was purposeful. Doesn’t even pop up as an option. He remains completely oblivious to that, even after Luo Binghe literally tells him he’s been horny for him since he was a disciple. Shen Qingqiu just does not realize.
I also really like MoShang, I promise, I find their dynamic to be honestly quite sweet, especially since Mobei-jun is just a spoiled princess who isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun respect each other and might even be a bit fond of each other, but good God, Mobei-jun, do not give me romantic advice, I swear. Shang Qinghua is constantly like “Cucumber-bro is so stupid, how can he not notice Binghe’s feelings?” and Mobei-jun is behind him slowly counting to five thousand in an attempt not to punch anymore holes through the walls. Great dynamic, 10/10, at least Shen Qingqiu eventually realizes that Binghe’s into him, Shang Qinghua doesn’t get the hint.
I like Yue Qingyuan being like “My sword is my life. Quite literally, it is my life. Accidentally combined my life force in my sword, whoops, now I lose a few years everytime I pull my sword out ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯”
Qi Qingqi is constantly like “Shen Qingqiu, the most annoying man I know. I would sell him for a half-eaten, unsalted tortilla chip. I hate this man’s guts. He is staring at my darling prized disciple but not even in a horny way. He is obsessed with Luo Binghe and never stops bragging about him. He acts like he’s delicate just to get out of having to ride a horse. He’s so lame, so cringe, a loser, the worst.” And near the end she’s like “I guess Shen-shixiong isn’t actually the absolute worst man ever- What do you mean he chose to date the heavenly demon disciple who not only caused him to die, but also threatened to destroy the entire world and everyone on it?! Shen Qingqiu is the stupidest piece of shit man I swear I’m going to murder him with my bare hands and no body will blame me, they’ll probably thank me-“
Mu Qingfang: “Shen-shixiong is being… kind to me? Shen-shixiong… smiled? Shen-shixiong is… being the most reckless man alive, oh no, Shen-shixiong, no!”
Liu Qingge, hanging up pictures of Shen Qingqiu: “I hate Shen Qingqiu.”
All of Luo Binghe’s wives are in sorry states. Well, all of them aside from Ning Yingying, who is living her best life as number two Shizun supporter (number one is Luo Binghe), and Liu Mingyan, who is also living her best life, but by writing porn about her brother’s closest (read: only) friend and a demon. Sha Hualing is in constant suffering because Luo Binghe is a tyrant and also had the gall to ask her for advice on getting into another man’s pants. The Little Palace Mistress was certainly very rude, but Luo Binghe threw her emotional support whip into acid. That’s a bit rude. The others are either dead or Luo Binghe just never notices him because he’s too distracted trying to woo Shen Qingqiu.
Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan got off lucky. Ning Yingying, especially, really drew the luckiest lot. She went from an airhead who accidentally said things that got her buddy in trouble to a talented cultivator who purposefully says things that get her into fights. Love her picking fights with anyone who badmouths her Shizun. She tried so hard to share the number 1 Shizun fan spot with Luo Binghe, but probably decided that she didn’t want to die and backed off. She apologizes to Luo Binghe because she knows he likes to be the only one to clean Shen Qingqiu’s house. The bestest girl.
Speaking of Bing-ge, I love him. That should be obvious (I wrote a whole fic just to let him be happy) but I really like him. I like when he says “Is this about last time we met? It was on me, Shizun, I swear…” like he didn’t rip Shen Qingqiu’s arm off. I like when he’s fucking pissed that he’s losing and furious that it’s to this weaker, insignificant version of himself who is happy and in love and Shen Qingqiu cares about him and he got to taste that, just briefly, just barely he got to taste how it felt to be loved by Shen Qingqiu, only for a day, he got to feel an ounce of the easy affection and love that didn’t have to lead to sex and that was protective of him instead of expecting him to be protective of them. Shen Qingqiu didn’t expect him to be the strong one, didn’t expect him to be the powerful demon lord, had no expectations at all aside from expecting affection.
And he says “Come with me” like he’s begging for it. He doesn’t understand. He feels like it’s unfair that he didn’t get a loving Shizun. He wants that love. He wants to be chosen. And, ultimately, he leaves, but it just left an impact on me. The way he expected to find a catch but only found that Shen Qingqiu was willing to die for him.
Anyway, all that said, Scum Villain’s pretty okay. I only lie awake thinking about it occasionally. It’s alright.
#scum villain self saving system#svsss#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#luo binghe#luo bingge#bingqiu#bingyuan#mobei jun#shang qinghua#moshang#a bit of#cumplane#tianlang jun#zhuzhi lang#su xiyan#yue qingyuan#liu qingge#qi qingqi#liu mingyan#ning yingying#ming fan#mu qingfang#sha hualing#the inane ramblings of a madman#long post#really long post#like extremely long post#i tag them long post so you guys can block them
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SV AU where transmigrator Shen Yuan and reincarnated PIDW Shen Jiu are the twin sons of one of Luo Binghe's prominent vassals. Specifically, a demon king of near-equivalence to Mobei Jun in terms of personal power, who has suffered the past couple of centuries due to a lack of influence on Luo Binghe's political decisions (no daughters to marry off to him, no personal relationship or ability to form one, so no clout at court).
But after PIDW Luo Binghe returns following the Bingge vs Bingmei extra, rumors begin to spread that his lordship might like to add a man or two to his harem. SJ & SY's dad smells an opportunity, and brings his sons to court. Demon Dad is sure to emphasize his sons' great scholarly pursuits, ethereal beauty, and impressive qi reserves.
Now of course, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan have different ideas of what is going on. Both of them think they're the only one with memories of a past life, and that their brother's oddities are a result of being an actual demon child (whereas they are, of course, weird for completely different reasons). Shen Yuan completely misses the subtext of what their father is trying to do (of course Luo Binghe wouldn't be interested in men, he's the stallion protagonist!), and is just excited for the chance to catch a glimpse of the legendary xin mo sword or see the hero in action, while also hoping to stay out of range of the death curse that befalls any guy who gets too close to the protagonist's aura. He also needs to keep his brother safe from that same effect, and ensure neither of them are accused of snooping around Luo Binghe's wives!
Shen Jiu, on the other hand, knows exactly what their father is trying to do and smells an opportunity to take revenge on the beast who killed Yue Qingyuan. He's spent years figuring out the demon emperor's weaknesses, both the physical kind and the kind uncovered via things like discontent wives and conquered enemies. Now he just needs to get close enough to his target actually use that information. Preferably before anything happens to his witless brother, who clearly has no idea that their father has just offered them both up to a terrifying monster like prime cuts of beef!
End result: Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu keep unintentionally getting in one another's way, while Luo Binghe himself has an existential crisis about these two guys who seem to embody both what he would expect from the reborn Shen Qingqiu he's been searching for, and that strange Nice Shizun that he actually experienced in the other world he stumbled across. But why are there two of him???
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#scum villain#bingqiu#bingyuan#? possibly also:#bingjiu#shen jiu: deliberately trying to seduce & murder luo binghe#shen yuan: just being nice but it's super effective anyway#luo bingge: experiencing shrimp emotions
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It's strange to think that Kaito is the only one in this story who shouldn't have anything to do with any of this. He's not like the other Gosho Boys, who always wanted to be a detective or also, he doesn't have a relative who works for the police. A normal boy with a normal life, who thought his father had died in an accident and tried to move on from it, but ends up discovering that he lived a lie for 8 years, that his father was an internationally wanted thief and was murdered when he refused to look for a precious stone.
So Kaito enters this world of police and criminal organizations just to find out who killed his father, prevent someone bad from finding Pandora and take revenge by helping the police capture the criminals. But even if he treats it like it's nothing, he's slowly breaking down, it's exhausting and progress is almost minimal. I'm looking forward to film 27 precisely because Kaito won't be as positive as always, he's reaching his limit...
Kaito knows that Pandora might actually just be a legend but he keeps searching for why his father 'died' because of this. He devises complex plans, constantly risks his life and handles everything alone. Shinichi got support, he has Heiji, Agasa, Haibara, his own parents and everyone who knows his secret identity but Kaito has no one but Jii, not even his mother helps him (even though she knows more things than him) quite the opposite, she rarely shows genuine support, barely talks to him and is always distant and beyond that (it seems) in the last episode of Magic Kaito 1412, it was she who disguised herself using Toichi's image to shake Kaito, no matter what kind of intention did she have... That was cruel.
He's already gotten too involved to give up and pretend that nothing happened, that he doesn't know any of this, it's complicated and Jii can't stop him from putting himself at risk. Kaito doesn't like stealing, he says that sometimes but he's someone who is very stubborn and unaware of the danger, when he gets it into his head that he has to solve all this, he won't stop until he succeeds.
And even though a lot of people hate him, he never lowers his head or stops helping, he helps the police, prevents people from dying and always tries to put a smile on someone's face regardless of who they are. It's ironic to think that this pervert is such a pure-hearted person, that he feels guilty for not being able to save someone who had tried to kill him moments before...
#kaitou kid#kaito kuroba#magic kaito#kaitou 1412#kid the phantom thief#detective conan#meitantei conan#dcmk
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Jealousy (Tokyo revengers)
His reaction to your attacks of jealousy
Mikey x reader, Ran x reader, Rindou x reader, Sanzu x reader
Warnings: pure fluff, except in sanzu (are you surprised?)
Mikey
In general, he had great charisma, so it wouldn't be unusual for there to be girls in love with him. However, it's not like many people approached him because of his reputation. That gave you some peace of mind and security. But suddenly, you couldn't deal with those girls who approached him at times when he was bringing out his typical charisma.
You looked from afar, being too transparent. He would just smile and look at you suddenly. Once the conversation was over he approached you.
“You don't have to be jealous!” he scoffed and smirked.
“I wasn't jealous,” you denied, looking away.
He thought for a moment, making a playful face. And he looked completely different from the Mikey you saw when he fought. He put his hand on your cheek and you both felt each other's breath. You felt your heart beating quickly and suddenly, you were already lost in his eyes.
“There's no reason to worry,” he moved closer.
Once he kissed you, you forgot about everything else and only felt his hands touching your body. Yes, there was no reason to worry.
Ran
Completely seductive, yet he was still too distant for the others. He usually looked here and there, but nothing too serious. You just stared at him for too long when you saw his gaze drift away. He usually just laughed and it was much worse how his ego rose every time.
“I don’t want you to keep seeing those girls,” you demanded.
“As if they could outdo you,” he simply replied, smiling.
You looked at him, without any bit of sympathy. The sigh.
“My eyes are only for you, darling,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead.
Something told you that he wasn't joking this time.
Rindou
Definitely the least accessible of all. Even for you. He was a good boyfriend, however, it was more about actions than words. You hadn't had any reason to be jealous, not even for a moment, but you had bad days too. The parties were too close together and there were always too many girls around, until one day you faced it.
“Are you serious?” he just looked strange.
You shrugged your shoulders, your anger only increasing as you saw his disbelief. He clearly couldn't tolerate you having that kind of distrust. He sighed and tried not to argue. It wasn't much of a word, he simply took you by the hand and went to where everyone was. That day he was too close in front of the others, who completely understood the message.
Sanzu
No, he was someone loyal. However, he liked to see you lose control. He would get too close to the girls in front of you and flirt. You ignored him the first few times, but he was already starting to get on your nerves. One day you just grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into a wall. He had laughed, proudly. With one hand you grabbed his face, specifically his chin, your long manicured nails digging into his skin. He was clearly pleased with your little outburst. He just stopped it in an instant, when he pulled the gun out of him and put it to your neck. You didn't tremble for a moment, because he was clearly in that state of mind. You stopped touching him, waiting for him to decide what to do. He lowered the gun and smiled. Clearly he wouldn't change you, he could do whatever he wanted with you.
#tokyo revengers x reader#mikey x reader#mikey x you#mikey x y/n#manjiro sano x reader#manjiro sano x you#manjiro sano x y/n#manjiro sano#ran x reader#ran x you#ran x y/n#ran haitani x reader#haitani rindou x reader#rindou x reader#sanzu x reader#sanzu x you
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Rage | Revenge | Relief
[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, kind of incest but not really, mention of marital infidelity ]
[ description: Aemond thinks his life couldn't get any more fucked up until his mother tells him and his little brother that her partner and his daughter are coming to live with them. He gives them a wide berth until one night when he overhears a conversation between his stepsister and her mother. The power of angst, dark, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]
Part 2 − Guilt | Greed | Grace
Part 3 − Pride | Promise | Price
Part 4 − Blame | Betray | Bliss
Series & Characters Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
When his mother decided to divorce his father, he immediately knew who he was going to live with − he had no intention of sitting at home with a man who had paid him no attention all his life. What he didn't suspect at the time was that there was something else behind his parents' separation besides a total lack of affection − or, in fact, someone.
Criston Cole.
When he found out about their affair, when his mother admitted to him that it had been going on for years he didn't speak to her for a month − not because he thought she had no right to really fall in love, but because she was always telling him about the principles of faith in God, the importance of fidelity and virtue.
When he met Alys at one of the parties he went to with his friends from university, when he saw the look she gave him he decided he didn't give a damn − they fucked in the men's bathroom like animals and then went to her place to do the same.
He stayed with her for longer than he had originally intended, not taking calls from his mother.
He eventually returned home; he had his studies to finish, however it was how long he disappeared for that started to worry his mother.
He didn't tell her who he was seeing and why, recognising that he no longer trusted her.
The thought of moving in with Alys occurred to him when one day his mother announced to him and Daeron that Criston and his daughter would be moving into their house − he laughed at her words, shaking his head and said that if they moved in, he would move out, making her burst into tears.
He had the impression that he didn't feel anything anymore.
That he was empty.
Everything seemed strangely funny to him, meaningless.
The day they arrived he sat locked in his room; Alys was sending him naked pictures of herself with messages about what she wanted him to do with her when he came to visit her.
On the one hand it turned him on, on the other it embarrassed him, he wondered how a grown woman could be so desperate.
He was more cautious than her, sending her pictures of his dick didn't thrill him even though she sometimes begged him to do it.
She was just texting him about what position he was going to fuck her first when his mother knocked on his room.
"Aemond. Will you come down to say hello?" She asked softly, hopefully. He pressed his lips together feeling a squeeze in his heart, tapping out a reply to Alys on the keypad of his phone.
Silence.
He heard her give up and go down the stairs.
He felt tears under his eyes, felt rage at the thought that these strangers would now be roaming his house, taking his space, making him uncomfortable even here.
He managed not to see any of them for a few days and felt wonderful about it, going to class first thing in the morning, spending afternoons and evenings with Alys, only coming home late at night.
However, when he came back one time, he saw, putting his keys back on the shelf, that the glass patio door was pushed open.
She noticed a girl similiar to Criston, with his dark hair and big eyes; she was sitting sideways to him on one of the wicker chairs, wearing a thick, light jumper and shorts, her hair loose, as if she was already going to bed.
He saw her nervous gesture, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her eyebrows arched in pain, her whole figure tensed as if someone had just tortured her.
"And what is she like? Have you met her?" He heard the sound echoing from the speaker of her phone, saw her lower her gaze, her lips slightly parted.
"I don't know. She's just normal, Mum. Kind." She mumbled, her voice soft and calm, scared, girlish, young, innocent.
He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on this, but he just stood and looked at her, unmoving from his spot, standing in the shadows in the corridor.
"Kind? Has she bribed you yet? Is she prettier than me?" The voice on the other end of the receiver was getting more aggressive and frustrated − he saw the girl scowl inwardly, shaking her head, lifting her shoulders up as if she didn't know what to answer.
"She didn't bribe me, she just…I don't know, Mum, I don't know what you want to hear from me, she's just a normal ordinary woman."
"DON'T LIE!"
He saw her cover her face with her hand as she trembled all over; he knew she couldn't take it, he saw tears start to run down her cheeks.
"− I'm not lying mum, I already told you, I moved out with dad for now because it's closer to my university from here, I −"
"You left me. After what he did to me. Was it worth it? For those few miles? To live in the beautiful big house of your favourite daddy's lover?"
"Mum, stop, please." She begged like a small child who asks a parent to stop hitting him already, that she had already understood her lesson, that she would be good now.
He had no idea why he felt a tightness in his throat looking at it, why his heart was pounding like crazy, why he couldn't move or breathe.
"You don't love me anymore. If you loved me you wouldn't have gone with him. You wouldn't have left me. I hope you like your new mum. Good night." She said and suddenly there was the sound of an earphone being hung up.
The girl burst out sobbing, leaning her whole body forward − he had never witnessed anything like it before in his life.
Why is it always the children who have to pay for their parents' mistakes?
He felt he should go upstairs, he felt he should leave her, but instead he moved towards the fridge, opening it. He heard her jump up surprised, only now spotting him through the glass, not knowing what to do, whether she should go or wait for him to leave first.
He, however, pulled out two cold beers and opened them with a loud pop of the cap; he walked outside, placing one in front of her, the other in front of him, sitting down in the chair opposite her, taking a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.
"If you tell my mother I smoke, I will kill you. Do you understand? I'll make your life a living hell." He muttered, lighting his cigarette from the flame of the fire and took a drag, leaning comfortably against the backrest.
She looked at him with her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide open, her cheeks all red − he thought she looked like a pet that children really want to have when they are little, a rabbit or a dog, a faithful companion and friend with big eyes.
She squeezed her eyes shut at his words and shook her head, massaging her forehead with her hand, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Nice to meet you too. I'm guessing that you are the Nicest of Alicent's sons." She said ironically.
Despite the harshness and mockery in her words, she said them so softly and warmly that he snorted with a grimace of amusement, shaking the ash from his cigarette onto the tiles beneath them with a tap of his finger.
"Yeah, that must be me." He hummed, looking to the side, exhaling the smoke loudly through his nose, reaching for the beer bottle − he took a long, loud sip from it, setting it down with a loud hiss of the baubles inside.
"Your mummy is always so pleasant?" He asked, looking at her curiously, wondering why he was so intent on bringing her out of her shell.
Why he was so cruel.
She, however, looked at him indifferently, unmoved; she smiled at his words lowering her gaze, her cheeks red from tears. She shrugged her shoulders.
"She's had a bit of a change of heart since she discovered my father was fucking your mother in their bed. But you probably wouldn't care. You don't seem like the kind of person who enjoys unnecessary drama. Right?" She muttered, leaning back, taking the cold beer he gave her in her hand and took a sip from it, turning the bottle in her hands.
He squinted his eyelids, wondering what kind of girl she was, what she might have wanted.
He liked being in control of what was going on and he wanted to work her out as soon as possible, to see what she cared about, to have her in his grasp like he had Alys.
"And what do you think about it?" He mused, slipping his cigarette into his mouth and taking a drag with a quiet hiss, not taking his eyes off her.
He saw that she was glancing at his scar, at his fake eye, and he felt frustration.
"I think that's my business." She said softly, spreading herself comfortably in the chair, lifting her knees up so that he could see her pleasantly firm thighs perfectly. "I only confide in friends."
He raised an eyebrow and sneered, taking another deep sip of beer, finding her naivety charming in a way; he figured she was younger than him by about two or three years.
"What conditions do you have to meet to be your friend?" He asked lowly, and she looked at him indulgently, a dreamy smile on her lips.
"You have to not be a cold, sophisticated dick." She said calmly.
He smiled broadly at her words, however the smile did not reach his eyes, wide open, empty and cold.
"I don't think I meet your requirements then. What about fucking? Can you imagine the face of our parents if they found out? Sweet God." He chuckled shaking the ash off his almost-smoked cigarette again with his pointing finger − he saw that she raised an eyebrow in disbelief and laughed lightly, as if he had actually amused her.
"I admire the level of your insolence. I really do. I'm full of appreciation." She said, smiling in a way that made him feel uncomfortable − he sensed that he had drawn from her the opposite reaction to the one he wanted. He licked his lower lip, looking at her intensely.
"If I offered you to come with me to my room, would you go?" He asked teasingly, wanting to pander to her, wanting to dominate her verbally. She cocked her head, a soft smile never leaving her face.
"Why not."
He swallowed loudly glancing down at her thighs, feeling a strong throbbing in his trousers at her words, his cock expressing an overwhelming desire to carry out his plan.
Fuck.
Actually, why not?
He rose dropping his cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with his boot, grabbing a bottle of his beer with his hand, walking back out into the dining room − he heard her get up and move behind him.
They both walked quietly upstairs and headed for his room. He walked in taking a loud sip of his beer, turning over his shoulder to look at her − she came in behind him with her bottle, closing the door quietly, just standing and looking at him in complete darkness.
"So?" She asked quietly, lightly, making him completely hard.
He could fuck her while his mother and her father slept in the next room.
He could cum inside her and then look her father straight in the eye at dinner.
"Take off your jumper." He muttered as he drank his beer to the end, setting the empty bottle down on the ground, pulling his leather jacket off his shoulders.
He watched as she obeyed his command without a word, she had a T-shirt underneath, apparently the top of her pyjamas − he could clearly see the outline of her nipples and breasts through the thin material.
"Come here." He instructed, and she approached him slowly, looking at him with those warm, soft eyes of hers; he took the beer from her and set it down on the nightstand by his bed, then glanced up at her.
"I'm not kidding. If you don't leave now, we're gonna fuck." He said dryly, and she blinked, looking at him without a shadow of surprise.
Seriously?
He chuckled seeing that she hadn't moved from her spot, reaching a hand to his belt buckle, undoing it.
"Get undressed."
He stared at her with wide eyes as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, her lovely breasts firm, looking like those of the busts of Aphrodite created by ancient sculptors.
"Not your first time, is it?" He murmured, pulling off his tight black blouse. She shook her head − he could see she was breathing a little faster at the sight of his bare chest.
"Does your daddy know about this?" He asked amused, and she shook her head quickly, looking at him horrified.
"Are you going to tell him about it?" She asked startled, and he chuckled under his breath, pulling her close in a confident motion.
"Please. I suspect you don't do fucked up stuff like me anyway, kid. My mother would be very disappointed in me if she found out, you know?" He hummed and lifted her by her hips, laying her on her back on his bed, kneeling over her.
They both looked at each other and giggled as if they were doing something joyful − he couldn't believe how turned on he was, how much his heart was pounding.
"You know they'll fucking kill us if they find out?" He asked in a trembling voice as if he wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing. She nodded, her eyes were shining.
He thought they both wanted revenge on them.
And even though it was childish, he felt a kind of affection and tenderness for her.
He thought she understood him, that he would make her feel good.
"Such a good girl. Your dad raised you well. But your big brother will teach you better." He gasped, panting along with her, slipping off his trousers and boxers. She looked at him intently, squirming beneath him, her cheeks red, her eyes big and trusting, her lips parted, plump and shiny.
She looked at him as if she had known him for years.
As if they were doing it together for the hundredth time.
With a sure, light movement he slid her shorts and panties off her thighs − they were left completely naked in front of each other, and for some reason feeling no shame, she reached out to him. He leaned over her and let her embrace his neck.
He brushed her lips with his, at first just to try how she tasted, and then he sink deeper into them, pleasantly full and moist. He slid his tongue down her throat with her loud purr, in his other hand taking his cock, jerking it a few times in his palm, the tip of it glistening and pink, sticky from his precum.
"− will you be a good girl for your big brother? hm? −" He murmured into her mouth and she nodded, panting as he did, her thighs parted in front of him in a surprising gesture of trust.
He slid his hand between her legs to check her condition and smirked feeling it was as he suspected, his fingers spreading her wetness all over her hot womanhood, teasing her clit with calm strokes, making her body shudder, her lips parted in silent, innocent moans.
"− I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already leaking? − I'm beginning to wish I'd introduced myself to you sooner −" He gasped, rubbing her with sure, circular motions, her hips coming up against him, looking for any source of friction.
He groaned low, surprised, when her small, soft hand caught his length and with a calm, sure movements began to squeeze it, massaging it up and down, feeling it throb hard in her grasp.
"− your loss, big brother −" She whispered sweetly, looking at him with such an innocent smile that he felt like laughing and telling her how adorable she was.
"− true − don't worry, we'll make up for our lost time now − hm? − we'll get to know each other better −" He purred delightedly, running the tip of his nose over her cheek, breathing faster and faster, licking his lips, their hips seeking fulfilment in the touch of their hands, their lips beginning to rub against each other again, wet and sticky, not giving each other full kisses.
"− with or without a condom? −" He whispered, running his tongue over her upper lip, and she sighed softly, writhing beneath him, his fingers teasing her slick folds with increasingly determined movements, his palm all wet with her moisture.
"− without − 'm taking pills −" She gasped with some sort of pride, her free hand combed through his short hair; he smirked under his breath, taking his hand from between her thighs.
"− good girl − spread your thighs wide − yes, just like that −" He hummed, and she let go of him immediately knowing what he wanted to do, her hands on his back and neck, stroking him in some kind of excitement and anticipation.
He directed the fat head of his cock at her entrance looking down at her, pushing against her slit, her lips parted wide when she felt it.
"− last chance − yes or no, kid? −" He exhaled and she tightened her fingers on his back.
"− yes −"
He had to kiss her to silence the loud sounds that ripped from their throats as he slid into her with one sure, sharp thrust − he began to move inside her immediately, unable to stop himself, the frame of his bed began to creak beneath them with each push of his hips.
They kissed loudly and quickly with a sticky, wet click, their bodies slapping against each other again and again, her naked breasts pressed against his chest.
He wasn't sure he'd ever let Alys embrace him so tightly, feeling him with her whole body, but she was different − he could feel the need in her fingers, she wanted him to be close and he wasn't going to deny her that.
"− look at you − so good to your big brother, hm? − so well prepared to greet him −" He panted into her mouth feeling her insides clench on him greedily at his words, intensifying his sensations, making him lose control completely, his hands clamped down on her soft, hot body smelling of pleasant, girly shampoo and shower gel.
"− you're so big −" She mumbled with some kind of awe and delight, their tongues licking and teasing as his cock with each thrust rubbed against the spot on her upper wall from which her body shuddered.
"− here? − when I fuck you here it feels good? −" He exhaled and she nodded quickly, moaning louder and louder into his mouth, her walls throbbing hard on the verge of orgasm, their naked bodies bumping against each other fast with a loud slaps.
"− yes − please −" She mewled, panting and quivering beneath him, he stifled her sounds and his own low moans with kisses, speeding up his pace, feeling that he was about to come probably harder than he had ever done before in his life.
"− quiet − do you want your daddy to look in here? − to see me taking care of his little girl? −" He hissed and she tilted her head back; he had to cover her mouth with his hand as she began to moan loudly while the orgasm shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him greedily, sucking him inside.
He only managed to make a few desperate thrusts with his hips to prolong their pleasure before he cum inside her, panting loudly, clenching his eyes, feeling such incredible relief that he felt like he was about to pass out.
"− fuck −" He gasped, collapsing on top of her − his hips rocked inside her for a moment longer with her innocent purr of satisfaction.
They both breathed loudly in an attempt to calm themselves, lying with their eyes closed, feeling that, along with the pleasure, their bodies had left the rage, grief and disappointment.
He felt her look at him and he opened his eyes, thinking she was about to cry, about to say that this was one big mistake, but she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.
"− God − we're insane −" She whispered with amusement, her eyes shining − he had no idea why he was smiling too, why he felt so damn good, why he felt such immense satisfaction.
"− yeah − that's correct −" He muttered lowly, feeling the fatigue and relaxation slowly overpower his body. He hummed when he felt her hand begin to stroke his hair wordlessly in a soft, light movement, with a kind of tenderness he had completely not expected.
He didn't know himself what he thought of that; he had never allowed himself to be touched like that by Alys saying he wasn't her pet, however there was something different about her touch.
Some kind of genuine concern from which he felt a tightness in his throat.
"This will be our little secret?" She asked quietly, running her fingers through his hair, down his neck and across his cheek. He murmured under his breath and lazily brushed her hand with his lips.
"Yes."
____
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