#;;v: unless the king should come again

[anarinya]

@wreths​ sent; "your life is stolen." ( for his wraith verse! :) )

RP MEME STARTERS // Accepting

"My life is spent, dear soldier."

It is not a small thing, to be seen by anyone. Other than those he does not wish to see him, that is. An eye has stricken him across this barren land for times uncountable now, and black servants sniff for him through the unseen world like starving wild dogs.

This two is neither of those, his double pair of eyes watching the King's formless shoes step over dust and dirt without disturbing a single grain. The sweet white tree shines almost cheerfully upon the body's livery, travel and battle worn though it might be. And, despite the caution The King knew he should show in the presence of such a strange amalgamation of bodies and wraiths, the sight of Isildur's sapling could do nothing but comfort him. Even the elf, for elf he must be, and all his severity does not make The King falter.

"My death is stolen." He corrects in a gentle, humming tone, as though consoling a child to a grim reality of the world that one has long ago accepted. No sun shines in this place, yet Anarion's translucent form is lit in a glowing sunset-red on it's edges and his look of concern bends the light into sharper lines of gold. "As is yours. If it is wisdom you seek from me, I would fain bequeath it. But such wisdom as pertains to an escape, or relief, I confess have it not.  I hope this does not dismay you."

[s0urw00lf]

can you make fluff alphabet for klaus mikaelson

Fluff alphabet - Klause mikaelson

A = Affection (how affectionate is he?) klaus is a big ball of affection when it comes to you. It’s actually quite funny to see the big bad klaus mikaelson all fluffy

B = body (what’s his favorite body part of yours) i think Klaus loves your stomach, because its a way he could always be touching you. Like he’ll have his hand on your stomach in public to make sure you don’t get separated

C = cuddle (how do they like to cuddle) clause loves holding you. So any way he could hold you would be his favorite.

D = dance (how do they dance with you) Klaus having lived through so many generations of dance would teach you any one you wanted to know, and he’s so elegant with it.

E = emotions (how do they process their emotions around you) Klaus prefers to be around you all times of the day, you keep his emotions at bay, but when he really needs it you just sit and listen to him rant as he paints or while you run your fingers through his hair

F = family (how is he around your family) he hates your family and they hate him all except your little brother/sister. So most of the time he’d just spend time with them and make sure so slightly spoil them, much to your dismay

G = gratitude (how great full are they for you) Klaus is so grateful for you, he loves how gentle you are with him, even knowing the beast he can be at times.

H = honesty (do they have secrets) funnily enough Klaus has no secrets from you, you’d known a lot about him before you’d even met him. They were mostly bad things, so he’d decided there was no point in hiding anything.

I = inspiration (do you change them in any way) you inspire Klaus to be a better person, not for himself but you. He’d hate himself if an enemy of his decided to go after you to get to him

J = jealousy (do they get jealous easily) yes. Klaus is the king of jealousy, he knows you love him but it doesn’t stop the nagging thought that maybe one day you’d have had too much of him and leave him stranded

K = kiss (where is their favorite place to kiss you) he loves to kiss your shoulders, seeing as your always standing in front of him like his queen and that’s the easiest accessible way to kiss you.

L = love confession (how did they confess their love for you) you had to force the confession out of him. You’d grown tired of his mind games, and told him that if he didnt fess up you’d leave him forever. That forced it right out of him.

M = marriage (does they want to get married) i don’t know, i think he would just so you’d have his last name, but other than that I don’t think he’d really care

N = nicknames (what do they call you) love, darling, Gorgeous, beautiful…

O = open (are they open about things) Klaus is very open with you about even his younger days, his family, and his father

P = patience (are they patient with you) Klaus is extremely patient with you, unless your trying to tick him off, then he plays right into your game

Q = quirks (random ability they have that beneficial to the relaxation ship) Klaus has so many abilities its unfair. The enhanced hearing/strength/speed/compelling plus his painting ability

R = romance (how romantic are they) again having lived through multiple generations, Klaus has seen his fair share of romance. So yes he is very romantic

S = security (do the provide safety for you) come on now. This is the original hybrid were talking about. Your more safe than the king of England

T = tender (how soft are they with you) Klaus is incredibly soft and cuddly. He loves you too much to even think about using the strength of a normal human let alone his vampire strength

U = upkeep (how clean are they) klaus is very clean, and extremely well kept. I mean his clothing choices should say it all

V = vulnerability (can they allow themselves to be vulnerable with you) he loves that he can be vulnerable with you, and not have to hide his feelings

W = wholesome (do they do little sweet things) Klaus would do anything for you if you’d ask. But he makes sure to keep up with the little things. Like bringing you flowers, or opening your doors, guiding you up/down stairs.

Y = yearning (how do they act when they yearn to be in your presence) he acts like a complete baby, you can’t count the amount of times Rebekah has called annoyed over Klaus’s whining

Z = zen (what makes them feel calm) klaus likes going to a nearby waterfall with you, listening to you talk and the water falling in the background gives him an unexplainable ammount of piece

[ladystoneboobs]

no of fence to jon snow fans who for some reason care about his exact age, but these discussions just annoy me no end. not only bc there's no way any weirwood flashbacks bran has to rhaegar/lyanna will come with time/datestamps, but also bc there's always comments like this:

SEVERAL turns of the moon (ie, months)?! have these people never seen a human baby before or just have no concept of their ages? even if we take into account travel time from the toj to wf, meaning jon was not a newborn too fresh out the oven when catelyn and robb arrived, there's still a difference between a newborn and a 3mo and an even bigger difference between those infants and an older baby 5-7mo. there's very good reasons these lines were cut. whatever birthdates can be worked out internally for jon and robb from when they're first mentioned as 15 and 16 don't matter in the end, bc grrm doesn't care about a consistent timeline and the actual text of catelyn's pov and ned's convo with robert about cheating on her should outweigh any guesstimates about jon's official nameday wrt robb's. catelyn may not have cared for jon, but she would sure as hell have noticed his nameday if it came before robb's and made him ned's firstborn. if jon's birthday canonically came before robb's then either ned's cover story would not involve adultery (not impossible for him to sire a bastard before his wedding), or he'd just give jon a new nameday along with his new name to fit the adultery lie. it makes no sense for him to lie about one and not the other, undermining the big lie with a little public clue of his story not adding up. whatever else she was as a stepmother, cat wasn't stupid and a bastard who was actually the eldest son being raised alongside her trueborn heir could be an even bigger insult than whether he was born of adultery or not.

BUT, the unknowability of jon's true birthday is not the only reason this annoys me, it's bc this is all based on the assumption that jon must be older since rhaegar/lyanna ran off together before ned married cat, as if both boys must have been conceived asap as robb canonically was when his parents consummated their marriage. and that's not how human reproduction works! even if you don't understand how fast babies grow in the first year, you should know that people who get pregnant do so through ovulation cycles and a lucky sperm finding an egg and all that, not just immediately getting knocked up as soon as one has p-in-v sex for the first time. not unless you only know mean girls sex ed where if you have sex you will get pregnant and die. (even tho lyanna did die, there's plenty of canon examples where pregnancy did not lead straight to death. also examples of people who did not get pregnant right away and even some who are/were sexually active and childless without always having moon tea on hand.) we can't know how long lyanna was having sex before that sperm+egg match happened or even how long she was with rhaegar before losing her technical virginity. if they were married, doesn't it make sense to think they didn't consummate their relationship until the wedding night either? that's the only leverage there is to ensure a status as wife rather than just mistress.

and while i just said grrm doesn't care about exact timelines and a lot is still foggy surrounding the rebellion and esp rhaegar, there is one timemarker wrt robert's rebellion he voluntarily threw in, time and time again: that stannis was besieged at storm's end for almost a whole year. that siege, which mind you, did not match the duration of the entire war. it only started after robert won his battles at gulltown and summerhall, returned to storm's end, and then went out and lost the battle of ashford, leaving his homeland open to the reachermen. the same siege which only ended when ned made a detour there after the sack of king's landing, before going to the toj. even if lyanna may not have given birth that exact day ned found her, she could only be waiting in that bloody bed for weeks at the most, not months. so if rhaegar knocked her up the very same night he carried her off and jon was still a newborn when ned found her after the siege of storm's end had ended, wouldn't that mean lyanna was pregnant for well over a year? that's not how human pregnancy works either! so, maybe that's proof that jon and robb, whichever order they were actually born in, were actually very close in age as babies, much closer than if they were both conceived asap.

and really, jon's actual birthdate does not matter imho, when he was raised not just as the bastard to robb's trueborn heir, but with robb also known by catelyn and the world as ned's firstborn (which he was, in any case, as jon was ned's nephew by birth). what difference could a birthdate before robb's make (even were there some means of discovery) after ned, cat, and robb are all dead? if one is looking only at his birth parents then he's only a firstborn child on lyanna's side, but definitely a second son on rhaegar's side. maybe he was always meant to be a second son with a not much older half-brother! even if the aegon fka young griff is not in fact rhaegar's son, he'll still be known as aegon vi targaryen, meaning jon will never be known as any father's elder son. if i may reference mean girls again, it's not going to happen.

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Can you do an Otto Hightower Where the reader is Viserys and Daemon’s younger sister where she has a secret relationship with Otto. Daemon being a protective older brother. She could join in on meetings (like Rhaenyra did in the show) and they could have longing stares, secret touches, and they sneak around? Fast forward to when Viserys fires him, the Reader begs him to take her with him because she loves him but he promises he’ll return and he asks her to wait for him. Time jump to where she is older and this takes place at Laena’s funeral, they finally reunite! They could have a similar beach scene like Rhaenyra and Daemon did? Please please! I’m the dork who like characters like Otto and Tywin…

Title: We Light The Way

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,266

Warnings: Heated makeout sessions. Vulgar language. Age gaps. NSFW. Smut towards the end. DNI unless you are 18+. By clicking the ‘read more’ button, you are knowingly reading at your own risk. P in V (wrap it before you tap it)

Summary: Princess Y/n Targaryen, sister to Prince Daemon and sister to King Viserys, knows that her brothers turn a blind eye if she doesn’t act like their innocent baby sister. So she uses that to her advantage and sneaks around with a certain Hand of the King...

Taglist: @leniabranch (I believe you wanted to be tagged the next time I uploaded an Otto imagine)

A/N: You mentioned Tywin and now I’m curious what it would be like to write about his character... also I’m so sorry if you weren’t requesting nsfw. You mentioned Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s scene and I got carried away. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

"So, I said to him, 'Well, I believe you might be looking up the wrong end.'"

The lords of the King's Council all laugh at Viserys' joke, all except Lord Corlys, of course. Princess Y/n Targaryen watches from the small crack in the doorway after having just come back from refilling the wine pitcher in hand, not yet wanting to interrupt the impending doom the Sea Snake always tries to bring attention to her brother.

"My lords," right on cue, Corlys stands up while unraveling a map, "The growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself 'the Triarchy.' They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

Viserys looks around before his eyes land back on the Sea Snake, hands absently playing with the egg from his platter, "Well, that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys."

"A man called Craghas Drahar has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy," Corlys gravely reports, "They call him 'The Crabfeeder'--"

Y/n's eavesdropping is interrupted when she hears soft footsteps make their way down the hall. Looking over her shoulder, she finds her niece, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, quickly bounding down her way to the older woman, "There you are. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Aunt. It won't happen again," Rhaenyra breathes, rushing to straighten her hair and dress as she joins Y/n at the door.

"You mean it won't happen a third time?" Y/n quirks a sharp eyebrow while knowingly staring down the young girl, a corner of her lips rising to a smirk as she brushes Rhaenyra's hair off her shoulder, "If I have to serve my brother and his council another round of wine by my lonesome, I should soon throw myself out the window of the Red Keep or resign to shoveling dragon shit."

Rhaenyra grins, quite similar to her aunt's, and both princesses huff amusedly under their breaths before pushing the doors open to the King's council room. They bound up the steps as the conversation Y/n was spying on continued.

"And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" Viserys questioned Lord Corlys.

"No, Your Grace--"

"Rhaenyra, you're late," Viserys catches sight of his daughter as she rounds the table to him, "The King's cupbearer must not be late. Leaves people wanting for cups."

"I was visiting Mother." Rhaenyra leans down and kisses her father's temple in greeting.

Viserys theatrically sniffs the air around her, playfully eyeing his daughter with suspicion, "On dragonback?"

Rhaenyra smirks before turning away, gladly taking the wine pitcher from Y/n once her aunt flashes her a teasing smile. With the young princess serving the councilmen, Y/n stands off to the left of her brother, Viserys, hands respectfully folded in front of her. The discussion of the Stepstones drag on and Y/n starts to drown it out. It was not new of Lord Corlys to try and have Viserys and the other councilmembers take his matters seriously, no matter what threat Driftmark may face ruling over the Narrow Sea. By now, Y/n has mastered ignoring certain voices on the King's council, her ears only perking up when something new and interesting is afoot, otherwise, she quickly grows bored of these meetings, despite having the honor of taking part in them.

The only reason she finds these meetings bearable is when she has all the time in the world and every reason to stare at Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, without question or judgment. And putting herself behind King Viserys gives Lord Otto all the more reason to longingly stare back, always flashing her a small smile from under his facial hair. Long meetings like this are always Y/n's favorite because meals will be served and she has a reason to present Otto with a platter of food or a refill of wine. So when her hand innocently brushes his, no one bats an eye.

Their secret relationship was still new since Lord Otto has taken the appropriate amount of time to mourn his wife. Y/n's stomach would still flutter like a young maiden whenever they exchange those small looks, longing stares drifting down each other's frame ever so slightly, a silent promise for later.

Today, like any other day full of meetings, the King finally excuses the Council and the lords all part to have a moment of peace to themselves. As usual, Y/n squeezes her brother's shoulder and departs for her chambers, a slight skip in her step and a smug smile as she nods to anyone she passes in the halls. Her chambers, a private part of the castle, just so happens to be on the way to the Hand's room, and if Lord Hightower were to make a short stop to visit the King's sister, who is to say?

Y/n throws open her doors and quickly shuts them behind her, barring the handles before turning back to face the insides of her room. Biting back her wide smile as she descends the few steps, her eyes scan the room, searching for something she was eager to find. She needn't search for long as Otto steps out from behind her folding screen.

"Princess."

Her smile broadens, taking several steps forward to close the distance between them. Otto receives her with open arms as Y/n glides easily into his embrace, reaching up and curling her hands into his hair as her lips slide clumsily with his. Lord Otto's hands blindly roam her body, leaning into her warmth with equal heat and desire. Eventually, their lips have to part for air and the world sits right with Y/n as she leans her forehead against his, catching her breath with her smile unwavering.

She pulls away just enough in order to look at her lover properly, "So Lord Corlys has a Crabfeeder problem."

He peers down at her through half-lidded eyes and a fond smile, "Hm. Listening in were you?"

"Only when the conversation is interesting," she teased back as she leans back in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, revelling the scratch of his beard against her lips. Y/n's pride only grows when she pulls away and Otto intends on her following her, desiring more.

However, being the tease she is, Y/n pulls herself out of Otto's arms and swiftly moves to her dining table, "You know what would make quick work of the Sea Snake's infestation?" She peers over her shoulder at the Hand as she walks away, her grin ever prominent, "A dragon. Or two. You could always convince the King to send me and Daemon out to the Stepstones and make a statement of our power. With both of the King's siblings dismantling the Triarchy, the Crabfeeder would quickly learn not to make a mockery of our ports."

Otto straightens his posture, following her to the table, "Is that your desire? To hastily enter a war that hasn't yet made a threat?"

"The Free Cities are testing our weak points, acting as pirate killers while we lie and watch them," Y/n takes fruit from her dinner tray and turns back to him, leaning against the lip of the table, "They may not pose as a threat now, but they have already dug their claws into the Stepstones. All they have to do now is leave an impressionable mark."

Lord Hightower reaches the table and sits in one of the chairs, his eyes rising to look up at the princess as his hand slowly crawls over the surface of the table in her direction, "I tire of talking about politics for one day, let alone entertaining the idea of sending you out on dragonback on your own."

"But I wouldn't be alone. I would have my dragon and Daemon and Caraxes."

His hand barely catches onto the sleeve of her dress, his eyes watching the fabric pull against his grip instead of looking up at her, "Perhaps the princess would want me to summon another council meeting immediately?"

She playfully sighs, giving in as she sets her fruit back on the table. She leans into Otto's space until she has fully climbed onto his lap, "You will do no such thing."

His hands expertly find the ends of her skirts, hiking them up to her waist as he reaches for another kiss, "As you wish, my love."

~~~~~~~~~

The hour grows late just as Otto is summoned to the King's chambers. Y/n spends her evening in her room, eating fruit and absently turning the pages of a book she's read a hundred times just as there was a knock on the door.

"Come," she called, slamming the book shut as she stood.

Rhaenyra pokes her little head in with a playful smile, "I have a surprise for you."

When she fully pushes the door open, Y/n gets a glance at another individual standing beside her, taller and with even longer silver hair. Y/n's eyes light up like fireworks as she runs to her doorway, "Brother!"

Daemon Targaryen steps into the room and swings his younger sister around as she jumps into his arms. She laughs into his shoulder, delighted by Rhaenyra's surprise. It has been an age since Daemon has been back at court and even Y/n could admit the meetings have been boring without her second eldest brother second-guessing every lord sitting at Viserys' table.

"Ao jurnegon sȳrī, mandia," Daemon greets her, a small smirk gracing his thin lips.

[You look well, sister.]

"Nyke could ivestragon keskydoso syt someone qilōni prefers se company hen līvi se lowly vali toliot zȳhon own lentor." She teased back.

[I could say the same for someone who prefers the company of whores and lowly men over his own family.]

Daemon runs his hands down her shoulders, shaking his head, "I am Commander of the City Watch. And the scum of the streets requires my attention."

Y/n rolls her eyes, "Are you here for the tournament?"

"Of course, he is. Why else would he be here?" Rhaenyra says from the doorway, arms crossed and leaning into the wood.

"Well, I would hope he had come to his senses and wished to join his brother's council again," Y/n huffed a small laugh while turning away and fetching a wine pitcher and a goblet, "Or perhaps come to support his cousin as she goes through a difficult pregnancy."

"Viserys has you in those infuriating meetings and Aemma has you for support," Daemon huffs back, accepting the wine goblet after Y/n had poured wine into it, "My talents are suited elsewhere, dear sister. Why run the court myself when I know you are fully capable?"

"Because I'm not a part of the court," Y/n loops her arm through Daemon's and leads him to the group of furniture centered in her room, gesturing Rhaenyra to join them, "I'm still a cupbearer."

Daemon's nose scrunches up as he's seated, "Do you mean to tell me that Viserys has not yet given you a seat at the table? What cunt made him decide against it? Was it Otto Hightower?"

Despite wanting to defend Otto, Y/n wisely chooses not to and only shrugs in response, "I don't see any reason why anyone would advise against it, dear brother."

"I'm still a cupbearer as well," Rhaenyra pitched in as she sat down, both her aunt and uncle turning their heads toward her.

"That is different, Rhaenyra. You are still young."

"If you were the King's cupbearer for as long as Y/n has, you would deserve a place at that table," Daemon tells his niece, all the while pointing at his sister with his cup with a sneer of disgust, "Now, I would bet my life that the one responsible for this treachery is none other than that sniveling, slithering, good-for-nothing cunt of the Hand of the King!"

"Treachery?" Y/n openly laughs, standing back up to fetch another tray of food from her dining table, "It hardly counts as a crime, Daemon. Even if Lord Otto is behind the King's lack of promoting me, which I highly doubt, there's no harm in it."

"'Harm,'" Daemon scoffs, shaking his head slightly as Y/n rejoins him and Rhaenyra, "Otto Hightower's ambition is only for himself, and not for the good of the Crown. If he truly had a love for this family and a love for Viserys' rule, he'd advise you to have a seat in the King's Council. The dragon has three heads and Viserys has two siblings. We would be stronger if we all were able to advise him."

The passionate words struck Y/n, eyes wide as she stares at her brother. Daemon gulps back the rest of his wine and the room lingers with silence. When he looks back at Y/n, she quickly flashes a quick smile to him and to Rhaenyra to reassure them both, despite the doubts lingering in the back of her mind.

~~~~~~~~~

Once Daemon is sent away, his words eventually go with him and Y/n forgets her doubts. After Aemma was lost to childbirth, along with her baby boy, a grieving Viserys exiles his brother to Dragonstone and names Rhaenyra as his true heir. For a moment, a brief moment, Y/n wondered why she wasn't a competitor for the throne, but quickly squashed that thought before it could fester. Between losing their cousin and missing their brother, Viserys and Y/n stick close to one another, sharing their grief.

During this time, Y/n and Otto have become more serious with each other, becoming a bit too bold even in public. Their touches last longer, their stares lingering far past appropriate, and it's been getting harder to sneak around. This spurs on the topic Y/n has been waiting to ask her lover.

"You could ask him to marry us, you know. He won't deny it."

Otto slowly sets down his quill, his sigh briefly disturbing the candles around his desk. Looking up, he meets her gaze as she's draped over his chair, reaching for her hand, "What's best for us is not necessarily best for him. Your brother is grieving the loss of his wife and son. I would not ask him for your hand in marriage at a time when he needs you the most,"

He kisses the palm of her hand, closing his eyes and lingering in her warmth. Y/n is satisfied with this answer, running her free hand over his hair before planting a small kiss on his temple. She stands up straight and looks to the door of his office before back down at her lover, "If someone were to see me walk out of here, tell them I was merely consulting with you on how to best comfort our king."

He nods in agreement and watches her go.

Y/n continues to bring up the topic of marriage, and each time, something new is in the way of Otto asking the King. First, Viserys announces his engagement to Lady Alicent Hightower, which came as a surprise to everyone present at the announcements, except for Otto. The grand wedding came around as well as Alicent's first pregnancy, then her second, third, and fourth. Three years have passed, and by the time Y/n was confident her lover was about to ask her brother to wed them, Daemon arrived back from the Stepstones. Y/n quickly forgot her proposal to Otto in exchange for reuniting with her other brother again.

But by the time the dust settled, it was too late. Once Y/n awoke and broke her fast the next morning, Daemon had already been sent away again and with this, she heard the news of Viserys dismissing Otto as his Hand. Heartbroken and confused, the princess made her way to Otto's chambers, demanding an answer.

"Why is he doing this? What happened last night to make my brother send Daemon away and dismiss you? Why does everyone somehow know except me?" She desperately asks in a single breath while regrettably helping her lover pack his things.

Otto sets his riding gloves down and heaves a large sigh before turning to her, "I cannot say."

"You can't or you won't?" When he could not answer her demand, she sucks in a sharp breath of air, "And what are we to do?"

"We?"

"Yes, 'we', unless I have been bedding another Otto Hightower for the past four years." Y/n snarled.

"Sarcasm is beneath you, my dear."

"And keeping secrets from me is unbecoming," she hits his chest, lightly, but gets her point across if his hurt expression had anything to say about it. Torn to shreds, Y/n's next sigh comes out trembling, regret welling in her eyes until her hands reach up and caress the spot in his chest where she had hit him. Defeated, her voice reverts to a whisper, "Take me with you. I will forgive everything, here and now, if you take me away from here."

"Your brother has just dismissed me. I doubt he will approve of me taking you away to Oldtown to be my lady wife," Otto's strong, withered hands gather hers and places them over his heart, "You're the princess. Your place is here."

A soft sob escapes her, disbelief in her teary eyes as she looked up at him, "But not with you?"

"Oh, I wish it so, Y/n, I swear it," he whispered, gathering her up in his arms and kissing the top of her head, rocking the two of them into a brief moment of calmness, "Perhaps this all happened for a reason. The gods might wish us to marry but not at this time. Our time will come. Just wait for me at the end of this road."

He feels her head buried in his chest as she turns it side to side, "I can't deny my brother's wishes if he decides to marry me off to someone else. I've already delayed him this long."

"Try. I know you can persuade him."

"If you believe that, then let me persuade him to keep you."

"I promise I will return. I know I will," he leans back and takes her face in both of his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye, "Take care of Alicent. Tend to her every need."

They pack the rest of his things in silence, not even touching each other until the next morning. Y/n woke to a frenzied knock on her door and rushes to answer. Otto is standing there and she barely has time to register his riding clothes before he's swept her up in a long, passionate kiss.

"Wait for me." He whispered against her lips.

In a flurry of his cloak, he retreats, not even waiting for Y/n to respond. He's left the Red Keep before she could even dress for the day, taking Alicent's youngest son, Daeron, with him to be fostered in Oldtown.

~~~~~~~~~

Ten years. Ten. Long. Years.

Princess Y/n Targaryen feels herself growing old as both Rhaenyra and Alicent grow up. She does her best to befriend her lover's daughter, but Alicent grew out of her shell shortly after Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor Velaryon. When she grew into a queen, Alicent suddenly had no need for friends outside of her sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, and her confidant, Lord Larys Strong.

From her marriage to Laenor, Rhaenyra birthed three sons, Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. Y/n was there for each of her niece's labors, trying to be the mother figure Rhaenyra deserved to have at her side in these stepstones of life. Y/n also tried her best to be with Alicent and her children. She gave advice when she could and even helped raise her niece and nephews if Alicent appeared stressed. The Queen thanks Y/n with feigned interest, only entertaining the older woman in her presence. Otherwise, she had no interest in being her sister-in-law's friend.

Daemon had run off and married Laena Velaryon in this long decade as well, having twin daughters with a third on the way. They travel through Essos and hardly ever journey back to Westeros. Viserys has done nothing but get worse in health, slowly decaying from the inside out. In many ways, both of Y/n's brothers were far from her reach, and her lover farther still.

Never in her life has Y/n felt so alone until this very moment. Her brothers are more distant than ever, the man she loved thousands of leagues away from her. Her niece is married with children and everyone else has followed her lead. Everyone appears to have moved on with their lives. All except Y/n, who remained frozen in time, never moving forward.

Viserys eventually notices his forlorn sister and asks her when she intends to marry. Cold and defeated, she answers with little emotion, "I'm old and barren. I would not make a good wife to anyone because I am no longer of age to have children."

"Come now," he tried to cheer her up, alone in the throne room. He smiles hopefully, "There's no need for such words of doubt. Plenty of suitors have come and gone from here and you never once spoke to me with interest to any of them. Surely, someone must have crossed your mind?"

It was like watching a barrel of wildfire ignite at the drop of a match. Y/n's whole body stiffens, her emotionless face suddenly coming to life from stone to fire. She glared up at her King brother, venom dripping in every word she spoke, "If you wish to be rid of me, brother, just say the words."

Viserys retracts, horrified that she would even make such an accusation, "Now, Y/n--"

"You pushed Daemon away and now you are pushing me away!" She roared, voice echoing off the walls of the vast room, "Slowly, day by day, you have pushed your siblings away until they had no choice but to leave. Not once did you ask Daemon to be your hand, now look where he is! And what of me? I had been your cupbearer long before Rhaenyra was born and not once did you ever ask me to join your council! Now, all we have left is our resentment for each other!"

"You know why I couldn't name Daemon my Hand," Viserys retorts, exhaustion putting pressure behind his eyes. He covers his face with one hand as the start of a headache ignites, "And Otto Hightower was a loyal servant to the Crown before greed brought his motives elsewhere--"

With his face covered, he completely misses the way Y/n shrivels in on herself, folding her arms close to her body. He speaks up once more, "But go on. Clearly, you've had something on your mind for a while. Speak freely, baby sister, and be free of it."

Silence echoes through the chamber louder than her yells could, and the two bask in it until Y/n takes a deep breath and finds her courage to speak, "You gave Daemon the opportunity to be your heir, and after you disinherited him, you could have had me take his place. But you didn't. You just brushed past my existence and moved onto Rhaenyra."

The words hurt Viserys like a stab through the heart. The King lean forwards in his chair of swords, "Y/n--"

"I am your sister, Viserys!" She cries in anger, her eyes and nose pink with emotion as she peered up at him, "Your blood! I have equal relations to you as Daemon does, and yet no equal titles or lands of my own. You name your daughter, a woman, as Heir to the Iron Throne but have not once given your own sister anything she could have possibly desired!"

"And pray tell would that be?!" Viserys roars as he shakes his walking cane, tired of the accusations and the squabble between him and his sister, "Tell me! Your King demands it!"

"The man I loved!"

The words ring in his ears along with his gasps of air as he tries to catch his breath. They stare at one another, panting and drained of all their emotions, like most pent-up siblings. Y/n licks her bottom lip, blinking rapidly while her eyes cast to the stairs leading up to the throne, ashamed. Viserys leans back on his throne, exhausted, watching the way his sister battles with her thoughts before she decides to Hell with them.

"Otto Hightower," His eyes widen when she spoke that name, but allowed her to further explain, "I loved him then, I love him now. I thought you knew. I thought you knew and refused to act on it. I thought you knew my love for him and you dismissed him anyway. You sent my love away... and for ten years, I have been stewing in my resentment of you, thinking how cruel my big brother can be."

"Y/n..." Viserys whispered, guilt boiling in his stomach as he watched his little sister shrink in on herself, "I am so, so sorry. For all of it. If I could take it all back--"

"It's far too late for that now," Y/n rapidly wipes the tears away, straightening her posture and taking deep breaths. Viserys could visibly see the stone wall she puts up as she now faced him as a dragon princess, "Fifteen years too late for you to grant me lands and titles, and ten years too late to marry me off. I'm sure by now Rhaenyra has informed you that she will be leaving for Dragonstone with her family. I intend on joining her."

She turns and walks out of the throne room, and Viserys no longer had the strength to stop her.

~~~~~~~~~

Living on Dragonstone with Laenor, Rhaenyra, and their children was peaceful, apart from the boys running around and having adventures of their own. Jace and Luke were wonderful, and they loved their Great-Aunt Y/n. Having a new baby around was wonderful, too. Whenever Rhaenyra needed a break, Y/n was happy to take over. Rhaenyra was thankful to have her aunt with her family, living in their ancestral home together, away from the viper den of King's Landing.

They receive two letters not long after moving into Dragonstone. The first was from King's Landing, reporting the deaths of Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin, and the second letter was from Driftmark, detailing the funeral for Laena Velaryon. Leaving Joffrey behind with a wet nurse, the rest of the family head to Driftmark to pay their respects. Upon arrival, Corlys and Princess Rhaenys were waiting to greet them, gathering their son up in their arms as they mourned their loss. Baela and Rhaena were there as well, but Daemon was nowhere to be found, much to Y/n's disappointment.

"Take me to your father," she demanded gently of her nieces after she held and kissed both of them. The twins take both of her hands and led her away from the growing crowds of funeral attendants. They brought her to a quiet room within the keep, and then she quietly sent them away to be with the rest of their family, "I promise I'll have him ready for the burial."

Heading inside, the room was completely dark other than the natural light coming through the window. She found Daemon easily enough, slouched in the corner of the room, and gathered him in her arms. He wasn't responsive other than to bury his face away from the world in his sister's shoulder, silent as the grave. Y/n was hoping for a better reunion than this after ten years of missing her brother, but he had just lost a wife and child. She couldn't afford to be selfish when Daemon was grieving.

Y/n repeatedly kissed the top of Daemon's head, squeezing him as tight as she could as would a mother to her child. Y/n doesn't remember her own mother very well, but she could imagine her holding Little Daemon like this whenever he was upset.

"I'm here... I'm here."

Daemon Targaryen does not cry in front of anyone, but for his little sister, he makes an exception.

After some time, Daemon is willing to show his face long enough for the ceremony. Y/n leads him outside where everyone had gathered around. While she was attending to her brother, the royal family arrived and was now waiting for them before saying their last goodbyes.

Y/n nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw Otto Hightower among the crowd, proudly wearing the sigil of the Hand once again. She nearly forgot how to breathe when she recognized his face, the air completely stolen from her lungs, heartbeat pounding in her ears. If she caught his eye, she couldn't tell with the crowd moving towards the cliffside where they would throw Laena's remains into the sea. For now, she couldn't approach him. Daemon and his daughters needed her first and foremost.

Throughout the eulogy Vemond Velaryon gives, Y/n keeps her gaze lowered and her hand on Daemon's arm. Halfway through sending Laena's coffin into the sea, Daemon whispers into her ear, "Our beloved Hand of the King can't keep his eyes off you."

Y/n paused, looking up at Daemon before following his gaze. She pulls her hair out of the way when the wind takes hold but sure enough, Otto stood far from the grieving family, dutifully keeping his hands folded in front of him. His eyes, however, were cast onto Y/n, only occasionally looking away out of respect for the dead when Laena has finally been put to rest. When he noticed you staring back, Otto's eyes lingered longer, as if the past ten years never happened and you were back in the council room, sharing glances and quick touches.

Y/n looks away and lowers her head again out of respect for Laena, dismissing Daemon's comment, "He's looking at you, brother."

All the guests quietly conversed with one another after the eulogy, any exchange becoming awkward or full of meager stares. The family of the deceased was approached numerous times and given plenty of condolences, but for the most part, Y/n either stuck to Daemon or Rhaenyra, not wishing to speak among the royal family as her estranged relationship with Viserys was still a sore subject.

It's not like she could mix with the crowd anyway. Ever since Daemon noticed Lord Otto staring, he had yet to leave Y/n's side, and she has elected to ignore it. But, as always, Daemon gets bored easily. He leaves the gathering and before long, so does Rhaenyra, but only Y/n appeared to have noticed, that is until Caraxes and Syrax flew overhead, alerting everyone of the prince and princess' departure.

Y/n was staring up at the evening sky, fondly watching the dragons fly away together. She didn't notice Otto approaching her until his hand gently touches her elbow, jolts of lightning running up her arm as she turns to face him.

The two of them found themselves walking alongside the beach together, long after the sun had disappeared over the horizon. The waves crashed and the wind blew, filling in the silence between the pair until the Hand spoke, "Alicent spoke highly of you. She said you tended to her and her children in her time of need," he waits for a response but didn't get one, so he continued to fill the void with words, "I owe you my gratitude for stepping in when her mother couldn't."

She winced, pained by the reminder of his first wife. Y/n keeps her voice even and stern, looking out onto the waters instead of looking at him, "I wasn't a mother to her. I was merely serving my Queen as I saw fit. When did you come back?"

"I returned to King's Landing by His Grace's command after the death of Lord Lyonel, may he rest in peace," Otto put his hands behind his back as he walked, watching his shoes sink into the sand, "I was beside myself when I arrived only to realize that you weren't there to receive me."

"I left shortly before you were summoned. My brother and I had a fight about-- well, about plenty of things, I suppose. I left for Dragonstone to take some time away."

"If you had waited--"

"I waited long enough," she snapped suddenly, stopping in her tracks and forcing him to do the same by her glare alone, "Ten years may have been a blink of an eye for you, but not for me."

"What makes you so sure? How do you know how I felt all these years?"

"I can only guess. It's not like you wrote letters to tell me otherwise." She snarled.

Otto lowered his gaze to the sand once again, ashamed, "I couldn't. It would have been a painful reminder that I could not have you."

Y/n huffed, annoyed by him and herself for acting like fools. She stared out over the water again before asking the question that had been troubling her all these years, "Why did you keep refusing to marry me? Why not ask my brother and be done with it?"

Lord Hightower sighed, his eyes wandering as he tried wording his next excuse the best way possible, "Your brother... back then, when he looked at you, he only ever saw a child."

The scowl on her face showed how unimpressed she was by his words, "I am only three years younger than Daemon."

"You were young when you and I started having relations. Viserys was at the height of his power and Daemon was known for killing a man for almost any reason," he smiled gently, "I would not have survived long enough to marry you had I tried asking your brother for your hand."

She shook her head in disbelief, running her hand over her hair when the wind picked it up and threw it back in her face. Otto watches the movement with calculation, wondering how long would it take him to run his fingers through those soft silver locks and sniff out every pin and braid. Y/n peers back and recognized that look, smiling a little to herself as she remembered how impressionable she is to him. Y/n makes a step forward, her feet sinking into the sand as she stood in front of him. She watches her fingers trace shapes in his cloak, the offending fabric keeping her from his torso and the beat of his heart. She peers up at him then, through her long lashes her violet eyes meet his and the mystery of his eye color wandered into her head. Were they blue in a certain light? Or were they green like his house colors, green like the flames of the great lighthouse that call House Hightower's banners to war? Y/n wonders if this is a mystery she can soon find out herself, purposely letting her eyes wander down to his lips. She internally cheered in triumph when the motion drove Otto to gasp out a tiny breath, "And how about now? Would you ask for my hand now?"

"Would you still have me?"

One of her hands reach for his mouth, fingers lightly tapping on his bottom lip, "If it weren't for your idiocy, I'd have you already."

A deep, gentle chuckle sounds deep in his chest, wrinkles ever prominent in the corner of his eyes when he smiled to himself. His lips briefly kiss her fingertips as he whispered, "Well, then. You'll be happy to learn that I already arranged everything. King Viserys summoned me and admitted that by doing so, he hoped to make you happy. I asked and he granted us permission to be married the moment we arrive back in King's Landing."

Y/n's hands pause their movement, her half-lidded eyes now widening in surprise, searching his face for an answer in disbelief, "Really?"

"Yes. He said he was done disappointing his sister."

She exhales excitedly, a sparkling smile gracing her beautifully aging face. Otto lovingly watched as small wrinkles, trying to make themselves known, show in the corners of her eyes as well. He happily counted each one before they disappeared from his sight when Y/n leaned up to kiss him.

It's warm and almost unbearably charged. Both lose their breaths quickly as their kisses drag out and become frenzied. Otto's hands make their way through her cloak, gripping tightly onto wherever flesh may be through her dress. Y/n's hands find purchase in his hair, gripping tightly as her leg rubs subconsciously against his crotch.

Otto breaks from the kiss, clawing for breath while trying to voice reason, "Y/n..."

"I told you. I waited long enough," she whispered into his lips, pulling him close again, "What difference does it make?"

They find themselves taking refuge inside the remains of a ship sticking out of the sand like a large dragon's ribcage. The little cover shields them from the wind and muffles the sound of the crashing waves. Y/n could see stars peeking through the shipwreck, shining down on her as she lay on her back, Otto's cloak the only thing between her and the sand. She rushes to hike up her skirts and lower her stockings as the Hand unfastens his belt and pulls the strings of his trousers. She started to see other stars behind her vision as her fingers run through her folds and rub circles over her clit, her moans drowned by the crashing waves and violent winds outside their sanctuary. Otto breathlessly watches her in awe. A goddess in every way, a dragon perfectly fitted into the body of a woman. She catches his predatory gaze and feels the warmth tighten deep in her belly from the intensity of his eyes on her, witnessing her sin and unable to control himself from waiting any longer.

Lord Hightower leans over her body, loosening her cloak and pulling her dress down to expose her shoulder, kissing her bare collarbone as he pants into her skin, "I miss moments like this more than anything."

As did she, if the rising pitch of her moans had anything to show for it. The warmth in her belly ignites like a fire and her patience grows thin. Forcing her own fingers away, she leans up and runs her lips over Otto's then trails down to his neck and relishes the scratch of his beard against her fair skin. Feeling her wetness run down and smear on his already ruined cloak excites her to the point she felt like she could fly without a dragon. She gasps out a demand, "Lie down, my love."

He does so, and to be honest, his obedience excites her all the more. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing and making up for the lost years, but to have him bend to her will made her feel like the Queen of Dragons herself. Like Vhagar, striking terror wherever she flew.

With Otto on his back, Y/n swings her leg over his waist until she was hovering over him, her knees sinking into the sand on either side of his hips. Her skirt pools around them at the motion, covering Y/n's new mount from sight. Otto blindly ventures under her skirts, experienced hands gripping around the apex of her perfect thighs. One of the princess' hands grips tightly onto the beard hair on his chin, forcing him to look up at her, his intense gaze still filling her with delight, hot magma still pooling in her belly. Her other hand dives underneath her skirts, expertly finding his. She guides his fingers further up her thigh and to her core. With determination, she watched his reaction as she made him feel his hardened length enter her with his own hand.

Her slick and warmth welcoming him inside her body drive the both of them to groan involuntarily, drawing out provocative sounds as she fully sinks down onto him. Otto unconsciously closed his eyes, feeling every inch of her both inside and outside. She's so warm and tight, rhythmically gripping onto his length. Her thighs rub either side of his hips, and he notes the insides of them are slightly rough. When she experimentally rolled her hips, a moan and a jolt of realization brought him to the conclusion that she learned how to do this by riding dragons.

She refused to bounce. Instead, she rolled her hips and drew his length in and out of her, back and forth and then in circles, like she was leaning her weight on the back of a dragon, flying through the skies. Her hand, still grasping his underneath her skirts, moves his fingers to rub against her clit, the rough pads of his fingertips sending a jolt up her spine and driving a cry out from her lungs. Otto takes the hint and takes over, tracing circles over her bud as she leaned her head back to moan up at the sky. With his hand now where she wants him, Y/n takes her hands and leans back to hold onto his legs, using this added momentum to quicken her pace, huffing hot air down the cleavage of her dress as she screwed her eyes shut in heated bliss.

"Take me fully this time, my love," she whimpered hastily, "All the way, without hesitation. I'll be yours by law soon. What does it matter if we do or don't wait before our marriage bed?"

Her words drive his fingers to start furiously rubbing against her clit, painfully but in a good way as her insides catch fire. Otto is panting uncontrollably, desperate to catch his breath as he's ridden by his young love, peaking ever so near by her words and her fluttering cunt. Y/n loses the rhythm of her hips as she desperately tries to get near her climax, jaw dropping and unable to swallow her unbridled screams of ecstasy. Her throat and lips are dry but all she could do is continuously moan and scream, feeling the tip of her betrothed's length begin to hit her cervix. Her grip on his legs tightens, sharp claws digging into flesh as her movements continuously hit that spot she's just dying to meet.

"Yes, yes, yes-!" Her coil cannot tighten any further and she's desperate for release. One of her hands dives back under her skirt and swats his hand away from her clit. She makes him grip onto the meat of her arse with both hands while she rubs her own clit in the motion she knows will make her see stars, now furiously bouncing her hips up and down his cock, "That's it, my love! Take me. Make me yours-! Oh, gods--"

Otto's hips suddenly rise to meet hers and now they're both howling at the moon, Y/n's walls fluttering all around his length as he spills deep into her, tremors running up and down her whole body as the dam overfills and spills over, rushing to the top of her head and down to the tip of her toes, forcing them to curl. The intensity of her climax is so large that she can no longer force noise from her mouth, her jaw hanging but nothing falling from her lips.

She forgets everything for a moment. How to breathe, how to speak, and how to even open her eyes. Otto's hips fall back down to earth and she soon follows, draping over his entire body in exhaustion. She rises and falls against his chest as he breathes, frantically at first before finally slowing down, despite his heartbeat still fluttering against her cheek. Finally, Y/n smiles in contentment and opens her eyes despite the uncomfortable feeling of Otto's seed leaking out of her and running down her thigh. She lifts her head to meet his and finally noticed that the Hand of the King appears to be asleep.

"My love?" She questions, slightly panicked as her hand cups his face.

Slowly, he comes back to reality as well, his eyes fluttering open and a restrained chuckle escaping his teeth, "I'm too old for this."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh a little, too, leaning down and rubbing her nose along the side of his neck, taking in his musky scent, "I'll never do that again if it helps."

"You'll do no such thing," he harumphs, making her laugh as his arms fully envelope her, "If one day my heart gives out from the way you ride me like a dragon, then so be it. Clearly, the gods have always meant to have me at your mercy, Princess."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So I did struggle with trying to figure out hold much younger Y/n was going to be from Viserys and Daemon. I think Daemon is meant to be 22 years old during the first episode so I tried to base her age off of that. And yes I added Daeron Targaryen for no reason other than to be somewhat accurate with the lore.

Please support by leaving a like or something. If you have a request, please leave it in my inbox!

[girl8890]

JM | Tainted

word count: 2.7k

Summary: The next in line to be throne, Prince Jimin, must decide who it is that will follow him into kingship and be his queen. None of the girls his mother bestows him with interest him at all. He much rather see all their head cuts off--imagining such things as each princess or lords daughter steps into the throne room. It isn’t until you step in, shaking and clutching your skirt as you pray for him not to pick you, that the thoughts of death stop and new thoughts surface. 

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Princess!Reader

Genre: yandere, royalty!au, historical!au, angst

Rating: V

Warnings: bratty!jm, spoiled!jm, executions, blood, fascination with death, forced marriage, unhealthy obsession, forced kissing, jm touches reader inappropriately once, ripping of clothing, implied forced sex, implied dirty thoughts.

A/N: Just a reminder that this is all fiction! None of this has actually happened, and I don’t believe it will happen or is going on. I also do not condone this behavior. If you don’t like, then just don’t read. Don’t judge others for liking the fic /type of fic or judge those that write similar fics. Your hate does nothing, but give an author the excuse to use the block button. This fic concept has been in my head for awhile, and I was bouncing between putting it with jk, v, or Jm, and in the end I did it for Jm. I have a yandere jk fic coming out soon, so it just made sense for me to write it with Jm after process of elimination and because I don’t see v being all that bratty tbh lol! I hope you enjoy the fic! 💜

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

“Mother! She’s ugly! Why would you even bring her to me if you can see her face looks like that? Do you want ugly grandchildren!”

Nobody moves, or makes a sound as Prince Jimin complains about a lords daughter who’s right in front of him. Every single girl meeting him today was told to smile, and not speak up unless they had a death wish.

“But darling, she’s a high lords daughter. You must at least give her a chance,” The Queen says to his right. Not even blinking an eye when her beyond spoiled son just insulted someone her kingdom finds important for trade. There all too scared to pull our of trades, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

Jimin looks over at the girl in front of him. She has brown hair that looks like it’s been barely washed (in his opinion), and her nose is way to big (again, in his opinion.)

“Next!” Prince Jimin yells with a wave of his hand. The girl walks away, not sighing out in relief until she’s a safe distance away from the prince’s and queens ear shot.

This is how it’s been for the past several days. Women of all titles and ages have been coming in from all points in the country to offer their hand to the crowned prince. He’s next in line to be king, and now that the current king has fallen ill it’s been assumed that the prince will be crowned soon. The king needs a queen, though. And the whole affair has been dreadful to the staff, and now even his mother

Not a single person has peaked Jimin’s fancy. He’s either sent them off the second they walked in the door, or called for their execution! Stating that the girl should be hung for treason, even though she’s done nothing wrong but show up.

In Jimin’s mind, though, some of the girls deserved it for “forgetting their manners.” There’s been three executions since starting this affair a week ago where there’s usually only one once every two weeks. All of them always been called upon from the prince, and because the king and queen spoil their son rotten they don’t care if a villager or low lords daughter dies. As long as they can see that smile on their sons face, their happy.

But with this affair, even the queens getting antsy. She knew from the very beginning that a title, no matter how big, would not just satisfy her son. He sees things, you see. Ever since he was little, he’s had a fascination with death. Starting with when they had to cover up his attempt at murder to a staffs son at age ten. Doctors don’t have the resources or knowledge to diagnosis his disorder yet, so all it takes is one girl he doesn’t see dying to be the one to marry the crowned prince.

Let just say, that’s harder said then done. Girl after girl was announced and each one left faster then the last. Jimin was starting to get antsy too, and when the prince gets antsy he finds his own way for entertainment.

A girl, about fourteen years old and an obvious no from Jimin, walks in. She’s blonde, and Jimin’s smile twitches upward as he imagines blood seeping down it. After the girl gives her introductions, apparently being the youngest princess for a country in bum fuck nowhere, Jimin comments, “I think you should change your hair color to red.”

The queen and head maid glance at each other, knowing where this is most likely going to lead, but as always they let their prince have his treacheries fun.

For the princess, who has no idea what he’s talking about, blinks up at him confused. “I-I’m sorry? Red?”

“Yes! Red! Have you ever thought about it?”

“I must say I haven’t, your majesty.”

Jimin smiles and it’s the cruelest thing the young princess has ever seen. “I could do it for you.”

“My son-“

“All I need is a blade and I’ll cut that skull right open. Then your hair would be nice and red,” Jimin then giggles and the young princess looks horrified.

The queen just sighs and then dismisses the girl. Once the room is cleared, she turns to her one and only son with a small smile. “My son, you do understand this is important, don’t you?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand while he rests his elbow on the throne. “Yes, yes, mother. I know. It’s not my fault they all look prettier dead then alive.”

The queen swallows, ignoring her sons comment. “That maybe true for you, but the kingdom needs an alive queen. Why don’t you at least give this next girl a chance?”

Jimin sighs heavily, and slouches against the throne. Truthfully, he just found this whole charade to be pointless. He’s not going to fall for any of them at “first sight” or any of that whimsical bullshit. But his mother looks haggard. Not that he cares about his mothers health, not at all, but she is the queen of his kingdom and the fact he’s the one giving her this haggard look is not a good thing.

“Fine! I’ll-… try, mother.” He speaks in a hiss, and frowns as he faces the door. The queen then smiles, feeling like she made some progress, and gestures for the guard to bring in the next girl.

Jimin barely paid attention as the announcer said the girls name and title. He found the wall to his left far more interesting. Some princess from another bum fuck nowhere country that probably only helps his country with bread or some shit they really don’t need walks in. It’s all useless. He’s never going to find-

“M-my name is Princess y/n, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” At the sound of her small voice, Jimin turns to look at the girl that’s just entered the room.

She’s clutching at her dresses skirt, making it look anything but presentable and her eyes are landing anywhere but on his own. That’s not what runs the princes speechless, though. It’s that he doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t see your death playing out in front of him, or blood seeping out from your every hole. He’s just sees you.

Your eyes are tearing up already, but it makes Jimin want to coax out those tears and lick them. He wants to stain your pink lips red by biting them, and find out what your heart looks like. This… these things… he’s never felt before.

Maybe wanting to pull out someone’s insides, yes, but never because you’re so beautiful to his eyes that he wants to paint you a controlled red. To keep you alive forget and keep you close to him. It runs him speechless, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Not even when the head maid corrects you in your speech and posture. “It’s your majesty, princess. And stand up straight! Who taught you how to present yourself in front of royalty?”

“Lucy, shut up,” The prince commands. Both the maid, Lucy, and the queen look at him baffled, but his eyes are still on you. You look up at the prince, surprised when he defends you. Even though he’s deflected the maids command you still stand up straighter, and let go of your skirt. Instead opting to just have two shaking hands clenched at your sides. “Where are you from again, princess?”

Jimin’s voice was so soft, but it still sounded darker then anyones you’ve ever heard before. You answer his question, swallowing thickly when you stutter again. You’ve heard about this prince and what he’s been doing to other girls like you seeking out his hand. You’re only here because it’s your duty as the eldest daughter of your small kingdom to try and marry a high titled man. That doesn’t stop you from praying to the gods for Prince Jimin not to pick you.

But sadly, the gods are not on your side today.

“Perfect! A princess and she lives in a country that’s actually on the maps. You’ll be perfect!”

Your eyes widen, and you stutter out, “E-excuse me?”

Jimin stands from his throne, walking up to you still sporting his demon-like smile. “Your going to be my new queen.”

If it wasn’t for the shock, you would have fainted right there.

———

It’s a custom for the betrothed of the crowned prince to live within the castle a month before the wedding. Everything happened so fast after Jimin decided you would be the one he wanted to spend his entire life with.

He demanded the wedding be as soon as possible, and the best the king and queen of both countries could do is make it three months from the day he picked you. This really scorned the prince. He went out on a rampage and even started declaring the staffs executions and torture.

This is something that started peeking even the publics attention, and their staff went from a castle of two hundred to one hundred within a week. They had no choice but to push the wedding closer, if not to stop the prince’s unjustified tyranny, and so, it’s only been a week since you last saw him. You had one week so say goodbye to your siblings, and had to watch your mother try her best not to cry about her eldest baby being married off to the prince that has been know to be treacherous.

A life where you feel is going to be filled with nothing but fear.

The first day you’re at the kingdom, Jimin didn’t let you out of his sight. He followed you everywhere, and made you stay as close to his being without getting scolded by the chaperones. The chaperones were the worst because Jimin wasn’t allowed to threaten their deaths or tell them to fuck off. They had to be there to ensure purity within the relationship, and all of Jimin’s thoughts were anything but pure.

They just weren’t those thoughts exactly. He imagined biting your lip until it turned red, and scratching at that pale untouched skin of yours until it was marked by him forever. He wanted to taint your very being, and figure out why he never wished for your death.

You stuttered a lot, which was annoying, but anytime you clutched at your dress out of fear when Jimin got to close to you stirred on the other feelings. The other feelings you were grateful the chaperones were there for.

He wanted to fuck you bloody, and fuck your mind up with it to become the perfect wife for him. Whispering the curliest of his imaginations into your ears, and they got worse each day.

A week before your wedding, the prince couldn’t take it anymore. It was past midnight and the chaperones were not around. You were alone in our own separate room, and the prince had the devilish idea to come visit you while you were sleeping.

He woke you up by biting onto your neck, and you screamed bloody murder but it sounded like nothing, but a muffled scream against his hand that was covering your mouth. It got to the point you were crying, and Jimin licked up each of your tears.

“I can’t wait to be able to lay with you, my queen,” He whispered into your ear that night. “You’re just so pretty and I can’t help myself.”

Jimin looks down at your body that is in nothing but a thin nightgown. You clutch at the skirt of it, and it’s on that day you find out that action does nothing but stir him on. He didn’t go all the way with you that night, but the sadistic prince had his way with you nonetheless.

Tickling at your thighs, and no push of your hands could stop him from playing with your sex. It’s wasn’t until you begged, “P-please my love… N-n-not yet. We must be good.”

Your not sure how you came up with the idea, but the second you called him “my love” for the first time he was all ears to your begging. With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he left you. Not before driving the first kiss of many to your parted lips.

You were too scared to fall asleep that night. Out of fear that he would come back and deny your begging. It wasn’t until a week later, that the begging wouldn’t even matter anymore.

———

After that fiasco, the one that left a significantly big bite mark on your neck, the prince was not allowed to see you until the wedding day. He hated being away from you. Almost scratching out someone’s eyes when they said they were with the soon to be queen before. Jimin kept his distance like a good boy, though. Because after today, no one would tell him he can’t be near you ever again.

The wedding went by smoothly, and no deaths—thank god—happened even while you were being greeted and congratulated by guests. Jimin hated others looking or talking to you. You’re his now, so no one should be allowed to see your beauty except him. He let it go once again, though. Because for once he didn’t want to scare you for what was about to come that night.

Once the wedding came to an end, Jimin practically dragged you to your new shared room. Ordering the staff to bring all your stuff in there the night before. You weren’t ever going to have separate rooms again, and Jimin was going to make sure you knew why.

“Oh my queen, my love, you’re finally here,” Jimin says while giving you a bone crushing embrace. You try to breathe through your nerves, even after he rips the back of your dress in two. Making you gasps from him exposing your smooth back to him in such a way.

He continues to hold you close and stares at the new exposed skin in the mirror behind you. Lightly gliding his fingers up and down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jimin says. It should be a compliment you take as is, but you’ve been around the prince enough by now to know what he’s going to say next. “I can’t wait to see what you look like when you bleed.”

———

The next day, you didn’t leave the bedroom. Not only were you not able to physically move without help, but because Jimin had the whole day off from any meetings and wanted to keep you within arms length. Which he did. Crushing your naked form into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“You felt so good last night, darling. Did you like it? Did you feel as good as me last night?”

You swallow even though your throats dry from dehydration, and burry your face into the prince’s chest. Not wanting him to see the way your eyes build up with tears.

Last night was a painful affair to say the least, but worst of all from all his markings he left on you he left the worst he could give at the end. The marking he left on your very soul when he taught your body how to like it were far worse then any on your skin.

You shouldn’t have liked it. You should have hated every touch he gave you, but you didn’t. He’s tainted you and now your weeping into his chest as you painfully give him a truthful answer, “Yes… I liked all of it.”

Jimin pets your hair, smiling down at you.

He knows your not weeping onto his chest right now because you hate him. You’re crying because you loved it. If how your bodies reaction from last night said anything at all, he’s slowly tainting the very fibers of your being.

Tainting his new queen until you’re so ruined you start to love him. And he has forever to do so now.

“My queen… we’re going to have so much fun together. I love sososo much.”

You pick your head up from his chest, staring into his smiley eyes as you look him with red eyes. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and feel suddenly a whole lot lighter from his confession.

“Do you really?”

Jimin smirks, placing his hand on your cheek to wipe away a stray tear that’s leaked out of your eyes. “I do. I’ll love you forever, my queen.”

How could a person like him not love a person like you. You pushed the blood filled thoughts away, and instead gave him new thoughts to crave. Ones where he stretched out your pain mixed with pleasure, and wanting to spoil you with it instead of killing you with it.

So yes, the prince loves you. And the prince will love your forever…

As long as he doesn’t imagine killing you first…

-

-

-

The End

[hecate-valentine]

Ashes of The Dragons

pairing: aemond targaryen x elaenyra velaryon (my oc)

summary: after six years and a dramatic event, prince aemond and princess elaenyra are brought back together.

warnings: SMUT, 18+ content, mature themes and language, uncle/niece incest, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), hand and finger kink, finger sucking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, soft and rough sex, valyrian fluff

word count: 8814

Ashes of The Dragons

"When family splits into Green and Black and blood is split, Blue cries her tears and Black ceases their rage, but Green persists until the last one dies. In the darkness of night, Green will join Blue, becoming Black. Blue will follow Black, and Green will follow Blue."

*

Elaenyra sat at the Painted Table with a book in her lap. The rough material of the leather was smooth beneath her hands, and the words on the paper, though in High Valyrian were clear in the common tongue in her eyes. In the distance on the island of Dragonstone, she could hear the faint roaring of Aenarys. The beastly dragon, though older, was still as temperamental as ever. Looking from the book on her lap to the window, she was hoping that her uncle and now good-father would be coming back soon.

Daemon always was kind to her, even when they had just met and he began teaching her the way of the blade and keeping her still wild dragon under control. He quickly grew to become a father figure for Elaenyra. Like her uncle, Aemond, Elaenyra claimed her dragon after the funeral of her aunt, Laena Velaryon. While holding the book in her lap, she also held the scroll from said uncle. It was the first one since the incident six years ago.

The door to the chamber opened, and in came her mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.

"The conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army." Jacaerys translated. Elaenyra had always grown superstitious about his Valyrian education, considering the possibility he would not absorb the knowledge very well. And he wasn't. Maester Gerardys resumed.

"Se Blakuata Rasho dranot vilinio viartis." He spoke. Though he spoke in Valyrian, Elaenyra heard it in the common tongue, much like the case with her book. Jacaerys exhaled.

"And landed at the Blackwater Rush." He said. Rhaenyra walked closer, hand on her pregnant bump and softly rubbing.

"Dranot." Rhaenyra corrected.

"Dranot. Dranot. Dranot. At the end?" He asked. Elaenyra chuckled.

"The mouth." Elaenyra corrected.

"Mouth! Ah, come on, Jace, you knew that." He groaned. Elaenyra looked at her mother and smiled. Rhaenyra placed her hand on her daughter's head and played with her braid, also smiling.

"Dranot. Dranot." Jace repeated. Rhaenyra walked from her daughter's side to the other side of the Painted Table.

"Dranot vilinio viartis." Gerardys repeated.

"Dranot. Dranot. Come on, Jace." He groaned.

"Perhaps that's enough for this morning," Rhaenyra said.

"No, no. I-I want to keep going." Jace said. Rhaenyra looked surprised, but let her son continue anyway. "Maester."

"Guesi misenakson Aegon undas." Gerardys said.

"Aegon... ordered that the trees should be... killed!" Jace cheered. Elaenyra again laughed at her brother.

"Felled. It is a related word." Elaenyra said. Jacaerys groaned.

"I don't expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace," Rhaenyra said. Jacaerys huffed.

"A king should honour the traditions of his forebears!" He exclaimed. Elaenyra raised a brow at him.

"Unless you plan to depose mother and me, you have plenty of time to study." Elaenyra quipped. Jace fell silent. "Besides, you should have learned at the same time as me, and not just ways to command Vermax." Jace turned to her.

"Why is that?" He asked. Elaenyra closed the book and placed it on the table.

"I have a theory; when you are younger and learning a new language, the brain can absorb it much easier. Mainly derived from the brain's elasticity and rapid neural formation, or the critical period." Elaenyra spoke. Rhaenyra looked from her daughter to her son with a nod. Daemon walked in shortly after.

"Leave us," Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra quickly grabbed the book and scroll and left the room to the library. As soon as she stepped in, the servants had lit a fire in the large hearth. Though the fire was raging, Elaenyra grabbed the thick fur blanket hanging off a cushion and sat down with it draped over her legs, and placed the book back in her lap.

Opening it back up, Elaenyra looked upon the scroll that sat between two pages. Grabbing it, she began re-reading it.

Dearest Princess,

I do not think I have ever connected with any other person the way I have with you. When I picture you in my mind, that is when I feel it. The sudden sense of hope. You give me hope. You make any problem of mine melt into nothingness. No one else can do that for me but you. You are special.

Do you know that I have long loved you? It is most likely known by you, certainly your mother and mine, but I am going to say it again. There are no lies in these words, not one at all. Your smile has kept me alive. It is the one reason to keep me fighting. I would give you my soul for comfort, even if it leaves me dark and cold.

It feels like I have to once again greet you with goodbye.

Yours always,

Aemond

Oh, Aemond. Elaenyra set the parchment down and looked into the flames. Through the flames, she could see recollections of her memories with Aemond. From being infants and attending lessons together, to growing up together as close friends and claiming the largest dragons at the same time at Driftmark. Aenarys was closer to Vhagar than Meraxes, though he was the brother of Queen Rhaenys' dragon.

"You seem quite a contempt to lecture your brother." A voice said. Turning her head to the source of the sound, was Daemon walking into the library and sitting in the chair next to her.

"Care to explain what you mean?" Elaenyra jested with a smile, to which Daemon responded with his own.

"Your intelligence will be remembered, my dear," Daemon said. Elaenyra looked at him, softly smiling and leaning back in her chair, sighing in contentment.

"Maybe the only thing I will be remembered for. Other than my father is 'The Rogue Prince' and has proved himself to be a menace." She said. Daemon agreed.

"And the person who will wield Dark Sister after I die. You will use it to defend those who need it; innocents, family, and those who must prove themselves." Daemon said. Elaenyra chuckled.

"You have faith in me with a blade like that? A blade like that and the dragon I have, perhaps you are right, I will be remembered as what you said." She said. Daemon nodded.

*

Targaryen relics in the Red Keep were gone. In their place was Faith of the Seven propaganda. Seven pointed stars and the erotica on the walls were removed. It was shameful. The room she was given was no different from the one she stayed in when she was a girl: red canopy silks, a plethora of bookcases, and large windows. A raging fireplace, and a clear view of both the sea and the streets of the grand city. Elaenyra stood at the door leading to a balcony, closing her eyes and sighing as the breeze from the sea ran through her hair.

"Are your quarters comfortable?" A voice asked. Turning, she saw Ser Criston Cole. She had heard stories about him, and what he had done at her mother and father's wedding; killing his paramour. And the words and actions he has spat against her mother.

"Yes, Sir Criston. Thank you." She said in a soft tone. He nodded before continuing. Though he may have committed questionable acts, Elaenyra still kept up her kindness to him, in hopes of swaying his opinions. It would later prove futile.

"You have been summoned by Princess Rhaenyra." He said. Elaenyra slowly nodded and he held the door open.

"Thank you, but an escort will not be necessary, Ser Criston." She said and walked past him. He nodded. Walking the corridors, her fingers caressed the old brick walls. Under her fingers, she could feel the ages pass by her like the sea breeze. She continued walking until she saw a man with long ivory hair and a black eyepatch. Looking at him, she recognized the boy who was the dragonless prince, Aemond Targaryen. He walked past her without a word, until she turned back to see him looking at her with a smirk on his face. Her limbs froze under his eye, and memories flooded through her. From the times when they were children talking about the greatness of dragons to silently exchanging kisses in the corridors. And especially to him losing an eye after claiming the great she-dragon, Vhagar. In his one eye, she could see a glint of surprise and disbelief at her presence. She turned her head forward and continued walking towards her mother's chamber.

Approaching the heavy door, she knocked and opened it. Inside stood Rhaenyra in a lavish gown and her good-father sitting next to her. They were talking about Viserys I, and from the conversation, Elaenyra could estimate that his condition has worsened terribly.

"Mother," Elaenyra called. Rhaenyra smiled and approached her daughter, wrapping her in a hug.

"You seem tired," Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra scoffed.

"That's a lot coming from you." She pointed out and rubbed her mother's stomach. Rhaenyra chuckled.

"Well, you came in on dragonback. Long distances like that can be exhausting." Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra scoffed once again, making Rhaenyra smile at her.

"Anything to make Alicent tremble," Elaenyra spoke in Valyrian. Rhaenyra shushed her with a smile.

"You need to rest for the time when the petition arrives, and wash up little one. You reek of dragon." Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra went to speak up, but the sound of knocking interrupted her thoughts. The door opened revealing Aemond.

"Princess." He bowed his head.

"Aemond." Rhaenyra acknowledged. Aemond stepped in.

"If I may, could I steal Elaenyra away for a bit?" He asked. Rhaenyra looked from the ivory-haired man to her daughter and nodded. Elaenyra approached Aemond, letting him raise an arm to keep at her back as they walked out of the room. 

*

The walk was quiet, just the sounds of feet on the stone floors and their breaths. Aemond's arm went from her back to linking with her arm, and the feeling of his cool leather tunic against her skin made her shiver. Aemond stopped the two of them and looked out one of the many windows. Elaenyra stood by his side as they looked out at the sea, seeing Vhagar and her dragon, Aenarys flying together. Very suddenly Elaenyra was overtaken by an image playing in her head. 

"The ages will turn them to stone." She said out of the blue, making Aemond hum in question.

"I saw it so clearly. The next hundred years. The dragons will be dead, and the house of the dragon will be left to only a daughter. The remaining dragon eggs will turn to stone and never hatch. That time will come sooner than I think it will." Elaenyra responded. Aemond looked at her, curiosity in his eye, he reached his free hand to her and delicately held her hand, his fingers playing with hers before they finally conjoined their fingers.

"You've grown." He said. She chuckled.

"As have you," Elaenyra said with a smile. The two continued through the castle. The air was silent, but peaceful to both of them. Even as they approached the Godswood and stood beneath its leaves. Elaenyra stepped forward and stood by the bark of the tree. Aemond stepped back and watched her crouch before it, hand placed on the bark.

"This may be the only place in this blasted castle that will bring me any form of comfort." She said. Aemond watched as her eyes closed and she breathed in the air. Aemond was not afraid to admit to himself that he stared at her, and even more that he felt everything around him pause as he watched the wind blow through her hair.

He only stopped when he realized that her other hand had dug into the earth on her side. And the vein making itself known on her neck and forehead.

"Are you-" Elaenyra stood abruptly and walked towards Aemond.

"For the King's suffering, did the maesters prescribe the removal of Targaryen heraldry and the installation in its stead of various statues and stars?" Elaenyra blurted out. Aemond looked at her with shock, before she heavily exhaled and placed a hand on her forehead.

He approached her and grasped her hands.

"Is that what worries you?" Aemond asked. Reluctantly, she shook her head.

"What worries me is that the home I have grown up in has become a shell of what I remember. I was excited to come back, but everything has changed and home no longer feels like home." Elaenyra said. Aemond rubbed the back of her hand and sighed.

"I agree with you on that matter. I have also felt a little out of place here a brief time ago." He agreed. Elaenyra looked up at him with a raised brow and a smile.

"Brief?" She questioned. Aemond chuckled and leaned his head forward, placing his forehead on hers.

"Before I was told you and your family were coming back. Until then, the only thing that brought me comfort was being on Vhagar's back." Aemond admitted. Elaenyra chuckled.

"I remember your first ride on her," Elaenyra commented. Aemond scoffed.

"I would hope you remember considering you had claimed Aenarys at the same time. We flew side by side at Driftmark that day." Aemond said. Elaenyra smiled at him. Returning the favour, Elaenyra rubbed the back of Aemond's hands.

"How is Vhagar? Aenarys has been restless, and I imagine Vhagar has been the same." Elaenyra said. Aemond nodded.

"The histories have sung that they are closer than any other pair. It shouldn't come as a surprise when they are in distress when separated." He said.

*

Otto stood before the Iron Throne, both the Greens and the Blacks gathered in the room, and Vaemond Velaryon, Elaenyra's uncle. Elaenyra kept looking to the Greens' side to see Aemond looking right at her, a smirk on his face and eye gleaming with admiration. 

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters," Otto said and sat on the throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond stepped forward in the room before the Hand and the throne.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins." Vaemond claimed. Elaenyra rolled her eyes.

"As it does in my children, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition." Rhaenyra argued. Alicent cut into Rhaenyra's statement.

"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Alicent intervened. Her motive was noble, allowing one to stake his claim, but her voice made Elaenyra cringe. Elaenyra looked over at Alicent, but Aemond was looking right at Elaenyra, the same look in his eye. Vaemond turned to Rhaenyra. Elaenyra looked at Daemon and Dark Sister on his hip. She was tempted to draw the blade herself and cut down Vaemond for looking at her mother that way.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." Vaemond said and turned back to the Hand and the Queen. "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor...the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides." 

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto said. Vaemond turned on his heel and stepped off the floor.

"Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon," Otto said. Rhaenyra stepped forward with her arms crossed over her bump.

"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very--" The doors opened. Rhaenyra turned, and all the attention turned to the door.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." A guard announced. Viserys stumbled through the doors. Half his face was covered with a gilded mask, his hair had all but fallen out and his face was littered with scarring. Elaenyra noticed the look of fear and dread on Alicent's face and the bewilderment on Rhaenyra's face. Viserys turned and faced Otto.

"I will sit the throne today." He stated. 

"Your Grace." Otto acknowledged. Viserys stepped to the throne, limping, and a guard stepped forward to help him.

"I will be fine. I will be fine." Viserys said. Stepping forward, his crown fell onto the crown. Daemon stepped forward, picking the crown off the ground and holding it. 

"I said I'm fine," Viserys said. Once he turned and saw it was Daemon that stood by him, he made no objections.

"Come on," Daemon whispered. Daemon helped him up to the throne and sat on it. Daemon reached forward, placed the crown on his head, and stepped back before rejoining his family, as did Rhaenyra. 

"I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys." Viserys said. All eyes turned to Rhaenys.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenys said and stepped forward. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree." Rhaenys proposed. Elaenyra smiled to herself, again meeting Aemond's eye and seeing a hidden one grace his face.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." Viserys proclaimed. Vaemond grew enraged.

"You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it." Vaemond said. Elaenyra swallowed the lump in her throat. The tension began growing.

"Allow it?" Viserys questioned. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine," Vaemond shouted. Rhaenyra turned to Lucerys.

"Go to your chambers. You have said enough." Rhaenyra said. 

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark." Viserys countered.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this--" Vaemond stopped himself. Daemon stepped in. 

"Say it." Daemon encouraged. His eyes flashed with anger, and Elaenyra did the same as she stood by Daemon, eyes burning into Vaemond with the fury of a thousand dragons. Aemond could see that from her as well, and he stood on the complete opposite side of the throne room.

"Her children... are bastards! And she... is... a whore." Vaemond accused. Viserys stood from the throne and drew the Catpaw from his hip.

"I... will have your tongue for that," Viserys said. In a flash, Daemon had stood behind Vaemond and sliced half his head, and Vaemond's body dropped to the floor. The Greens all stepped back, with Helaena covering her ears and trembling.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said. Elaenyra watched with admonishment. 

"Disarm him!" The guards called.

"No need," Daemon said, wiping the blood off his sword. Elaenyra saw Aemond look from Vaemond's body, and to see Daemon with a newfound look of admiration. It shocked Elaenyra. Viserys groaned and fell forward.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent called and rushed to Viserys, as did Rhaenyra.

"Father?" Rhaenyra asked. Elaenyra stepped forward, as did Aemond, but he walked to Elaenyra and held her in his arms. Elaenyra could see the shock and disappointment in Aegon, but a silent cheer resonated through Helaena. Elaenyra walked from Aemond to the still-trembling Helaena and held her small hands in Elaenyra's gloved ones.

"Please, my love. You must take something for the pain." Alicent pleaded, holding Viserys in her arms.

"I will not cloud my mind. I must set things right." Viserys said. The maesters came and quickly dragged away Viserys. Elaenyra never had much of a relationship with Viserys, but the idea of her losing her grandsire when she still had much to do made her stomach churn, and Aemond knew it. Aemond rubbed his hand on the small of her back. Alicent watched, disgusted and fuming at her son's actions, but the son could not care less.

*

All the Greens and Blacks stood around the table. Elaenyra sat in between Aegon and Jacaerys, directly in front of where Viserys will be sitting. Indistinct conversations surrounded the room until the doors opened. Everyone stood as Viserys was carried into the room. Everyone sat back down, and Elaenyra noticed Aemond eying her.

"How good it is to see you all tonight, together," Viserys said. The room fell into silence, and the only notable tension was Aemond and Elaenyra giving each other secret looks across the table.

"Prayer before we begin?" Alicent questioned.

"Yes," Viserys responded. Everyone folded their hands over the table.

"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest." Alicent prayed. Elaenyra opened her eyes to see Daemon smirking. Elaenyra quickly grabbed a grape and threw it at Daemon, making him silently chuckle. She looked over to see Aemond eying her and also silently chuckling.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes... and their betrothed" Viserys began. Everyone raised their glasses.

"Hear, hear!" Daemon cheered.

"Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman." Aegon said between Elaenyra to Jacaerys. Jacaerys set his goblet down and leaned back in the chair, biting back a response.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides," Viserys said, and everyone again raised their glasses.

"Hear, hear," Baela said.

"You'll be great." Rhaena encouraged. Elaenyra smiled to herself. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and for once after so long, she was happy.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that?" Aegon pressed. Elaenyra grimaced. 

"Let it be, cousin," Baela added. Elaenyra grabbed a knife and hid it under her napkin sitting over her dress.

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jacaerys responded. Viserys stood from the chair.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other in the years past." He begun. Viserys reached up and began unclasping the mask. Pulling it off, he set it on the table. He had a hole through the side of his mouth, and an eye missing from its socket. "My own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... as I am. Not just a King... but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." He said and dropped back in his seat.

Elaenyra looked from Aemond and Lucerys. Uncertain and on edge. Rhaenyra stood, glass raised and head high.

"I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." Rhaenyra declared and sat down. Elaenyra felt tears come to her eyes.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." Alicent said and stood from her chair. "I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen."

Otto looked up at Alicent with his brow raised. Everyone drank. Aegon stood and walked by Baela to fill his cup.

"I... I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." Aegon poked at Jacaerys and Baela. Jacaerys shot from his chair, slamming his hands on the table and getting the attention of everyone in the room, and even Aemond stood, ready to defend his brother. Jacaerys raised his cup, and "punched" Aegon's shoulder.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth." Jacaerys said. Elaenyra raised her brows as she drank. Fond memories? The last memory you have is Luke taking his bloody eye. "And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." Jacaerys finished and drank.

"To you as well," Aegon said, and Aemond sat back down.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards," Helaena spoke to herself.

"Well done, my boy," Viserys said. Helaena shot up with her glass in hand. 

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." Helaena said with a smile. Elaenyra laughed into her wine, as did Daemon. Seven bless her. 

"Good," Otto said.

"Let us have some music," Viserys said, pounding the floor with his cane. Jace stood and walked to Helaena, holding his hand out. The two stood to dance. Looking around the table, Elaenyra felt true joy in her heart. The faces of the people in her family, though some may have been more reluctant, they were still family. But, it also felt wrong. It was as if they were all actors in a play, pretending to be a happy family when so much backstabbing and dishonesty had spread rampantly. The Greens and their undisputed hatred towards Elaenyra's mother, and the history of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

From being best friends to enemies in a small number of years. Especially with Alicent getting fed lies from Ser Otto daily.

"Guards," Alicent called. As Viserys was carried out, the large pan of roasted pig entered. When set down, Elaenyra saw Aemond and Lucerys staring each other down. Before Aemond slammed his hand on the table and stood up, glass in hand.

"Final tributes." He said. All eyes were on him now. And Elaenyra remembers Aemond as one to be more secluded and quiet. This was new. Aemond turned his head and looked at Elaenyra.

"First. To my lovely, beautiful, and pure Princess, Elaenyra Velaryon. I promise to always be dutiful towards you and protect you from all the dangers of the world." He toasted. Elaenyra looked at him, shocked and her mouth slightly opened. Her chest heaved under her dress and her face flushed pink. Everyone else at the table had the same expression; shocked, confused, and disappointed from Alicent, Otto, Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Aegon. Helaena smiled at her brother and raised her glass

"Velaryon? She'll be a Targaryen soon and bare Aemond's children." Helaena said. Elaenyra hid her red face behind her hands. Aemond drank from the cup at his sister's words.

"And how many beautiful she will bare," Aemond added. Gods, take me now. 

"Finally. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise...strong." Aemond said. Alicent folded her hands together.

"Aemond." The Queen scolded.

"Come...Let us drain our cups to these three...Strong boys." He said. Elaenyra grimaced.

"I dare you to say that again." Jace combated. 

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond argued. Jace approached Aemond, and Aemond approached Jace. "Do you not think yourself Strong?" He questioned. Before Jace was able to throw his punch, Elaenyra shot up and grabbed Jace by his hair, and threw him to the ground in front of Helaena. 

"Stop this madness! Did you not hear what our grandsire said about the House of the Dragon?!" Elaenyra shouted. Rhaenyra and Daemon approached and stood in front of Jace, Luke, and Elaenyra.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?" Alicent questioned Aemond.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, thought it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs." Aemond responded. Elaenyra huffed and turned to Aemond, slapping him hard across his face. That alone took the entire assembly by surprise. Even though Aemond had lost an eye, the harsh delivery of Elaenyra's slap looked like that hurt him more. Elaenyra stormed out of the room, slamming the doors behind her.

*

Elaenyra walked the halls of the Keep, fists balled by her side and her brow knitted together. As she walked, she realized she had begun approaching the Queen's Apartments. Walking by the door, she could hear faint voices growing much louder and that the heavy door was cracked open.

"Is that what you are? A traitor?!" It was Alicent who yelled, but at who, Elaenyra did not yet know. Until a voice was quick to answer.

"You call me a traitor for loving someone? For caring?" It was Aemond. Elaenyra stood by the doorframe as she listened in.

"You care? You betrayed our family, Aemond!" Alicent again shouted.

"What fucking family are we? You sit here waiting for father to die, and what a beautiful love story you have! You have only expressed care over Aegon because he was the only reason father wanted you, for a son. Then the rest of us came, and we mean nothing to you. You call me a traitor, but it was you who split this family, all because of your desire to have Aegon be crowned king, and it was you who learned me of betrayal!" He shouted in response. Elaenyra froze in her spot before the sound of his heavy steps approaching the door brought her back to reality. He stopped before the door.

"If I will ever have a family, it will be the one I make with Elaenyra, and no one will stop me from marrying her." He said and walked out of the room. Elaenyra quickly moved from the area, hastily looking to follow wherever Aemond had gone, but the winding of the halls took hold of her and she found herself lost. Until she followed the sound of a raging brazier, and into the throne room she went. Standing before the throne, Elaenyra slowly approached the magnificent piece of history with her hand outstretched. Very gently, Elaenyra grasped the pummel of a sword. She looked up at it, preserving this moment in her mind. Even while she looked at it, her mind replayed all the events that had transpired centuries before her. Aegon the Dragon and his sisters, King Aenys and Maegor the Cruel, with his Black Brides, and the sights of him upon Balerion and Visenya on Vhagar, and the peaceful reign of her great-grandsire, Jaehaerys.

"The swords of Aegon the Dragon's enemies all melted and forged together with the inferno of Balerion the Black Dread. But I'm sure you knew that." A voice said. Elaenyra turned her head and saw Aemond descending the steps. Turning her head back, she looked at the charred metal of the swords.

"Everyone knows that, Aemond." She responded. She heard him chuckle and his steps approach. She could feel his heat radiating onto her. Elaenyra sighed.

"You should sit on it. I think you would look magnificent." He said. She laughed, before turning her back to the throne and slowly sitting down. Her other hand rested on the side of the throne, and with a playful smile, Aemond dropped to one knee before her.

"Mayhaps it should be you that becomes Queen after your mother has completed her reign," Aemond said, head down. Elaenyra again chuckled. 

"And would you be my King?" She asked. He raised his head.

"If you'd have me." He said hand pressed to his heart. She smiled. When moving her hand to extend it to him, a blade from the throne sliced the palm of her hand. She hissed and looked at the blood dripping from her hand to the stone floor. 

"When family splits into Green and Black and blood is split, Blue cries her tears and Black ceases their rage, but Green persists until the last one dies. In the darkness of night, Green will join Blue, becoming Black. Blue will follow Black, and Green will follow Blue." Elaenyra whispered. Aemond looked at her, confused until he looked upon her dripping palm. Standing up, his hand gently cupped her palm and raised it to his lips. Looking into her eyes, he licked at the blood streaming from the cut. The metallic taste lingered on his tongue, and the aftertaste of fire and brimstone remained much longer. 

Still holding her hand, he pulled her from the throne and began leading her from the grand hall. The sound of a kingsguard knight approaching stopped both Aemond and Elaenyra. It was Ser Criston Cole.

"My prince, my princess. His Grace has called for the both of you." He said. The two looked at each other before going to where Viserys had stayed.

*

The door opened, letting Elaenyra and Aemond inside the King's chambers. The room was dark, save for a few lit candelabras by the King's bedside. Pulling back the curtain and standing at his bedside, Viserys faintly opened his remaining eye and reached his hand out for Elaenyra. She grabbed it and squeezed, trying to fight the burn in her throat.

"Your Grace," Elaenyra whispered. He forced himself up and groaned in discomfort. Within the next hour, he was going to be gone.

"My granddaughter, my son." Viserys acknowledged. Elaenyra wiped away the tears on her cheek. Viserys pointed over to a stationary kit, and Aemond walked over, grabbing it and holding the quill in his hand.

"Write what I say, my son." Viserys pleaded and Aemond nodded. Opening his eye, Viserys looked at his son.

"I, Viserys of House Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby declare that upon my death, my granddaughter, Elaenyra, daughter of my heir, Princess Rhaenyra, wed my son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen." Viserys declared. Quickly writing it all, Aemond handed it to Viserys to sign it. Signing it and sealing it with a golden dragon wax seal, Aemond set it aside and looked upon Viserys.

With a heavy inhale, Viserys began speaking.

"My son, Aemond, please forgive me for my absence through your life, both yours and your siblings. Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Rhaenyra, and you, my children, my beloved children. Forgive me for my sins." Viserys pleaded.

"Father--" Aemond paused.

"Mayhaps if I had been more present in your lives, all this hatred and grief would not have happened. Please forgive me, and make peace where I failed." Viserys begged. In a rapid motion, Aemond grabbed his father's free hand. Elaenyra stepped back, letting them have their moment in peace and silence.

"Love each other, you and Elaenyra, like I should have loved your mother," Viserys said. Aemond nodded. The two sat in silence for a long number of minutes until Elaenyra walked back, kissing Viserys on the forehead and trying her hardest to keep the broken sob from leaving her mouth.

"Goodnight, grandfather." She said. He weakly smiled at her as Aemond and Elaenyra left the room and closed the heavy door behind them. Aemond grasped her hand, seeing the blood in her palm.

"Come, I'll take care of your wound." He said, and began leading her away, to Aemond's apartments.

*

Opening the door, Aemond let Elaenyra into the large room. Elaenyra marvelled at the height of the ceilings and the raging inferno in the quartz fireplace. Pillars decorated the walls and silk curtains draped from them, hiding a large bed. The windows spanned from the floor to the ceiling, with a view of the city and a balcony.

"Elaenyra." He called. Elaenyra turned her head to see Aemond holding linen in his hand. "For your wound." He finished. Elaenyra walked over and extended her hand to him. Elaenyra watched as he wrapped the bandage around her cut. Aemond secured it, but still did not release her hand. Elaenyra only looked at where he held her wounded hand. It was calloused and built from years of training, and Elaenyra revelled in the feeling of his skin on her. It was clear now to Elaenyra. The lightning sparked to life under his skin, heating his blood like the dragon he was. And Alicent will never understand that for all she sees is her baby, her dutiful Aemond.

His eye held a wild glint in it, completely different from the drunken shine of his worthless and vile brother. Elaenyra withdrew her hand and looked into his eye. To her surprise, Aemond had a bashful look on his face.

"We were children when last we saw another," Aemond said. She nodded and raised her hand to rest on his tunic, slowly going up until she reached his collar.

"Elaenyra." He whispered.

"We are no longer children." She whispered. Nodding, Aemond stepped closer to her, faces inches from one another. Elaenyra leaned forward a bit, looking at Aemond for permission. When he nodded, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Their lips together felt like fire sparking into a raging inferno as Aemond pressed his body against her, hands tangling into her curly tresses. Elaenyra sighed into the kiss as Aemond bit into her lower lip. The metal taste of her blood danced on his tongue and set his body aflame. 

"Your taste is so sweet, Elaenyra." He said. Elaenyra slowly pulled back, desiring the feeling of Aemond's lips to linger a bit longer. Her hands reached behind his head to undo the wrapping that tied his hair back, letting it fall and fan around his shoulders. Her head leaned forward, foreheads connecting.

"I want you." She whispered. Grabbing her hand, Aemond led her through the curtains to the grand bed. Standing to the side of the bed, Aemond held her head in his hands as he pressed another desire-fueled kiss to her silky lips. He was hesitant. Elaenyra reached up and grasped his wrists, looking into his eye as he pulled back.

"Fall into me and I'll catch you." She whispered. He nodded, hands withdrawing and reaching the back of her dress, untying the laces and pulling the dress from her shoulders. Aemond's lips pressed against each inch of skin that was revealed, and she grasped handfuls of leather on his vest.

"Aemond." Elaenyra whimpered. Her mouth fell open with a gasp as he bit into her skin. Pulling back, he looked at the growing red mark on her shoulder with satisfaction. 

"I love you." He admitted. "I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, I will always be yours." He spoke. Elaenyra quietly sniffled as her eyes grew glossy. His hands held her face and wiped away a tear.

"Don't cry, my love. Please don't." He said. She shook her head, beginning to undo the claspings on his vest, and pulled it off, moving to the laces of his shirt. Slowly pulling it off, Elaenyra let her eyes wander over his torso and upper chest. He was toned, not overly built as she had seen of Ser Harwin, but enough to see the muscles that built beneath his skin. Once again, she felt him hesitate.

"Don't leave. And don't hesitate." She pleaded. He nodded, again placing his forehead against hers.

"I'll never give you away. I already made that mistake." He said. Grabbing what remained of the dress, he pulled it off her and left her in the slip beneath it. The see-through fabric did nothing to hide her breasts or stomach, and a flame burst through him. In a frenzy, he kicked off his boots and unlaced his pants, not yet pulling them off. Instead, he grabbed the back of her thighs and laid her on the bed, and climbed on top of her. The heat of the room ran through her, drenching her neck and hands in sweat. Aemond once again pressed his lips against hers, more gently compared to the last ones. The other ones were fervent and spirited, this one was delicate and soft. 

"I heard what you said to Alicent about me." She said between kisses. He smiled to himself, and hands fumbled with the tie on her slip.

"I meant it. Every word was true." He said. She smiled at Aemond with a chuckle and sat up.

"I know you meant it." She spoke, her eyes glinting with softness. Aemond smirked and pulled at the tie on her slip, watching it fall and bundle around her stomach. 

"And I'd prove it a million times over if you asked me to," Aemond said. Kissing her once again, Aemond shredded her slip from her body, resulting in her biting back a squeal. The sound left his mouth as he watched her shiver was obscene and vile. Surely one his mother would not be proud about, or hers. Elaenyra tugged at his pants, pleading for him to take them off. Standing to the side of the bed, he stripped himself of his confines and watched as Elaenyra's eyes settled on what was now visible.

"Eyes on me, my love." He said. She looked up at him, eyes dark and body radiating heat from the raging fire. Slowly, Aemond got down on one knee before the bed and grabbed her legs, pulling her body close to him.

"I have waited far too long for this, I will not waste another moment when I could finally quell my hunger for you." He said and used his fingers to divide her folds before licking a slow strip up. Elaenyra shuddered and sealed her eyes shut. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her as Aemond worked his tongue all over her sopping petals, making her bite into her lip, hoping to quell the sounds of her arousal. Much to Aemond's distaste. He had waited years for this moment, he will not see Elaenyra silence herself.

"You would try and deny me the sounds of your pleasure?" He questioned. She shook her head violently.

"If anyone were to hear..." She fell silent as his thumb found her throbbing clit, in place of her words, and an aggressive groan left her throat. He wore a deviant smirk.

"You were saying?" He mocked. Her back arched off the bed and her hands found their way to his hair, tangling in it and lightly tugging. Aemond groaned, the sound hitting Elaenyra's ears so perfectly that she bit into her bottom lip and smiled. Elaenyra squealed as Aemond forced a finger inside her, again smirking as her expression hardened.

"Sing for me some more, won't you?" He asked. Kissing at her clit, Elaenyra moaned on contact and silently praised the gods for his tongue. His hands smoothed over the skin of her thighs as he ate at her. Her lips remained parted as light breaths fell from her, but grew in volume as his finger worked inside her and caressed the sweet spot that made her toes curl. Her body grew quick to be drenched in sweat as her orgasm began racing towards her and tugging more roughly on his hair.

"Please." She whimpered. Looking at her from between her thighs, Aemond worked faster against her and took great satisfaction from the trembling of her legs. Inserting another finger, Elaenyra squealed, making Aemond chuckle against her skin. 

"Such a beautiful sound. I wonder what your mother would think if she heard you cry out for me like that." Aemond said. Elaenyra's head fell back into the sheets as her back again arched off the bed, her mouth falling open and groaning.

Her mouth formed into a perfect 'o' shape, her back arching off the bed and hands fisting the sheets below her for mercy. She could feel something in her belly start to tighten, and it raced towards her, almost uncomfortable.

"..Aemond?! Aemond, what is...what is that?" She questioned. Pleading, she hopes he had the answer. Aemond pulled away from her clit with a pop, before looking up at her with a satisfied smirk, and mouth coated in her arousal.

"What are you talking about, my love?" He asked. Aemond waited for Elaenyra to gather her thoughts. The hand that held her thigh began to squeeze the skin calmly lightly and gently caressing the smooth skin of her inner thigh, with his knuckles lightly going down to reach her heated cunt. Without rush, Aemond softly dragged the pads of his calloused fingertips along her soaked folds, nonchalantly spreading her lips and occasionally dipping in the tip of one of his fingers inside, collecting her arousal and spreading it over her folds. She could barely focus, her eyes half-lidded with lust and pleasure, her limbs sweaty.

"My stomach feels strange." She confessed, feeling confused and her limbs becoming heavy. Aemond nodded, though he knew she was not paying attention - instead, she stared at the ceiling, her mind elsewhere and pretty face blissed out. Nonetheless, Aemond did not stop reassuring her that she was safe with him.

"You're alright, my love. You are experiencing your first orgasm. Do not fret, my love. I have you, I have you. Just relax with me. Can you do that for me, my love?" He asked. She pleasantly hummed, before feeling Aemond pinch her lower belly, causing her to wince in discomfort and her whole body flinch. 

"I need verbal confirmation, my sweet niece." He said lowly, though he continued prodding one of his fingers against her leaking hole, hearing a faint "yes!" come from Elaenyra, before sliding one of his long fingers inside her.

"That's my sweet niece." He commended, leaning his head back down and dragging his tongue along her clit once again. Her body shuddered to hear him call her his sweet niece. And Aemond knew.

"Hmm. So wet for me. What, does it arouse you knowing your uncle will fuck you stupid?" He questioned. She nodded feverishly and arched her back off the bed.

"Oh...please, please! Aemond - I can't... I can't h-hold it..." Elaenyra wailed and thrashed against the sheets. Someone heard that. Aemond did not stop, instead, he went harder and faster, urged by his desire to take anything she was willing to give. 

"Cum for me, my love. Cum for your uncle." He demanded, words mumbled against her clit, but audible nonetheless. Elaenyra could feel his teeth just barely scrape against her pulsating clit, just as he tried pushing a third finger into her sopping cunt, making her cry out in his chamber. Once the third finger was pushed inside - a tight fight, but managing - Aemond started pumping all three fingers as quickly as possible, simultaneously licking and sucking at her puffy clit, making her whine so prettily.

"Oh, fuck." She cried, eyes widening as she let the curse slip from her mouth. She couldn't focus, since the beginning of her orgasm began approaching, making the band in her belly tighten to the point of it bordering pain. Aemond quickly switched his fingers for his tongue, his tongue starting to delve deep inside her dripping cunt. His fingers now swirling in her clit in fast, tight circles. The pressure on your clit as well as the wet muscle of Aemond's tongue was enough to have her burst all over his face.

She was panting, and a crying mess. Tears were pooling in her eyes and little hiccups escaped her. Removing his mouth from her, he gently kissed along her thighs and sat up from his now sore knees. Her hiccups were replaced with whimpers of overstimulation. There was a ringing in her ears, a numbness tingling her fingertips, soft lips trailing up her skin, leaving delicate touches along the skin. She was spent. Completely spent. But when she looked down at his erect cock, her eyes widened, completely petrified. Aemond climbed on top of her, before switching for her to be sitting on him, legs on either side of his hips.

"We go at your pace, agreed?" He asked. She nodded. But, she is immediately shy about her body being so exposed. She took his hands, squeezing as she slowly lowered onto his cock.

"I..." The words wouldn't leave her mouth. She tried to sink onto him, but the burn stopped her.

"Take your time, love. It is quite alright." He comforted. The nerves slowly fell away and began sinking further down him. Her head fell back, an obscene moan leaving her mouth. She was small standing next to him, and she was still small while atop him. Aemond kissed her neck, while open-mouthed and groaning at her tightness.

"Gods, I can cum just from this." He groaned. Pressing her hands on his chest, she pushed him down onto the bed. Aemond saw the wild look in her eyes, and he refused to acknowledge that it made his restraint start withering away. Finally fully seated on him, Elaenyra huffed in desperation and grabbed his hand. Pressing it to her lower stomach, Elaenyra slowly began grinding on him. Beneath his hand, Aemond could feel where he rested inside her, and his slightly agape mouth was replaced with a wicked grin. 

"You take me so well. Almost like you were made to be fucked by me." He said. Elaenyra threw her head back and smiled.

"We were meant to burn together, Aemond." She spoke, the language of High Valyrian falling off her tongue so effortlessly and beautifully it made Aemond's eyes roll into the back of his head.

"The Velaryons are made of the sea. But you and I, are made of fire." Aemond replied, also in High Valyrian. Elaenyra released her hold on him and let him sit up. Aemond gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Mini explosions ran through her blood and set her skin ablaze, drenching her body in more sweat. She had wasted no time in gathering her strength and raising herself from him before sinking back down. Her jaw fell slack and her arms wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his skin as she whimpered. His hands were firmly placed on her hips, aiding her in her ministrations. Her head fell into his neck where kissed ever so lightly. Removing a hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back harshly. Her lidded eyes were dazed and glossy, but when meeting Aemond's eye and seeing the darkness, her eyes shot wide open.

"You scare me, Aemond." She moaned. Aemond smirked and kissed her harshly. 

"Good." He said. His hand left her hair and delved between their bodies, connecting at her clit and rubbing in harsh circles. She squealed as her walls fluttered around his cock.

"Shit!" Aemond shouted. Grabbing the back of her thighs, Aemond turned them onto her back with him atop her. Aemond finally gave in and let his carnal desires take over as he relentlessly pounded away at her insides. Unapologetically, Elaenyra screamed as an uncomfortable feeling settled in her lower stomach. Aemond was quick to slap a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as he chased his release.

Aemond's hips stilled as he emptied his seed inside her. Lifting her in his hands, Aemond kissed her sweaty forehead and smiled at her. Following, Aemond again pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'm yours, Elaenyra. I am yours, and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days. May the Gods take me if I break this oath to you, my love." Aemond declared. Brushing a hand through his ivory locks, Elaenyra smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose.

[the-messenger-hawk]

A brief look at Immortality and the “Princes” in ToG-

Immortality is kinda an interesting beast in this world, because everyone is aware that it exists, but few people are aware of what exactly it entails or how to obtain it. (Up until Enryu, everyone believed that the Administrators were immortal, but he quickly disproved that.)

The Ten Family Heads and Zahard attained immortality when they reached the highest available Floor, but not because of any special power or blood of theirs, but because they made contracts with the Administrators to become so. Citizens of the Tower simply “do not have the authority” to hurt or kill them. (As a side note, it’s mentioned by Garam that Arlene is also under such a contract, which is why she could not die, but apparently V was not, for some reason. So unless leaving the Tower removed that protection, she should still be alive out there somewhere.) This isn’t common knowledge. Wangnan got ahold of this information somehow, and its discussed again on the Floor of Death, but most people don’t know the nature of the Heads’ immortality. 

(Though I am curious about the relation of these contracts to the Irregulars. The reason why Bam is believed to be able to kill the king is because contracts made in the Tower inherently do not apply to people from outside the Tower. This might be because they're a kind od spell, which also doesn’t work. But what about a being who’s immortality was not based on a contract? What then?)

But how does this tie in the ‘princes’ and are they actually immortal too? Or why?

The first thing is that I’m mostly using ‘prince’ as a shorthand for the three that we’ve seen, since we don’t actually know if that title applies to all of them. Though we’ve seen Karaka with a ring, the only character to ever be referred to by that title is Wangnan; if or how that title is shared is unknown.

-I’ll start with the Boss, since we know the least about him, so he’ll be the easiest the cover: The big thing that sets him apart immediately is that he is old. He’s from the Age of Genesis, so he’s an upwards of thousands of years old, an age range comparable to Jinsung and Dowon, if not older. He comes and goes wherever he pleases and has the resources to sneak into heavily protected places with no issue at all, and is apparently charming enough to instantly convince Maschenny of all people to change her plans to accommodate him. The Boss has a strange manner of speaking, alternating “I” and “we” when referring to himself, possibly hinting at a fractured sense of self? (He claims that he himself is unclear who he is.) -But oh, what is that on his face? Could it be a scar? (it looks like one anyway) Maybe despite the Boss's power, age, and influence, he lacks Wangnan's seamless healing abilities? (tick one little hint down on the possibly-not-immortal checklist.) Something to think about.

-Next is Karaka, the tin man with a bone to pick. Of the three, he is easily the one with the clearest goals, self-awareness, and understanding of the situation (and it made him mad). Although we don't really know how old he is, I'd estimate him somewhere around several thousand years old (1-2 maybe); old for a fresh High Ranker, but an absolute baby for a Slayer. Funnily enough, we have enough information about Karaka's abilities to have a clear answer as to whether he's immortal or not. The answer: he's not! Karaka is durable to an insane degree, and has the ability to reset himself to a previous state when he's in danger, which is a kind of practical immortality. But a lot of this can be attributed to his spelled armor, which was given to him specifically to preserve his life, and Jinsung certainly worried over that exact thing. Not only that, but Karaka has specifically separated his own heart into his World of Darkness hammerspace to protect his one weak spot. I firmly believe that if someone was able to break into that space and target his heart directly, they might be able to actually kill him for real, though that'd be insanely difficult to do (supposedly only Family Heads and Administrators have the power to get in without his permission (potentially a setup to someone much stronger than him actually testing that protection...)). So Karaka's regenerative armor abilities and durability allow him to mimic immortality, but he isn't actually so.

And lastly, the boy with the heart, Wangnan. He's probably the easiest case to argue for the immortal angle, and why the theory that says so is so believable. After all, unlike Karaka, Wangnan does not have any form of protection preventing people from attacking his relatively vulnerable parts and causing major damage to him, but continues to heal from absolutely fatal injuries repeatedly anyway. To Ehwa immolating him in his first appearance to Cassano absolutely destroying him on the Hell Train. (Though it does seem that he heals from fatal injuries noticeably faster than serious non-fatal injuries: i.e. Beta exploding his heart vs Hoaquin nearly taking his hand off. His body working harder to preserve him in those cases?) Worth noting though is that, if Wangnan is immortal, he does not seem to be aware of it at all: he knows and refers to himself as "hard to kill" but also shows that he does think he can die and fears that possibility, especially on the 20th Floor. (This is probably because he keeps suppressing his memories; Wangnan doesn't really want to know why this keeps happening to him.) As mentioned before, he is the only one explicitly referred to as a 'prince.' We don't know what this means. We also don't know why Wangnan is the only one of his kind depicted with horns, and if that has any ties to this ability, or where this ability even came from.

There is so much here about them that we've yet to find out.

[pastortomsteers]

The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

August 11, 2024

Pastor Tom Steers

Christ the Saviour Lutheran Church, Toronto

Our Opening Hymn is: “Lord Jesus Christ, Life-Giving Bread”

Lutheran Service Book, 625 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTE0BvNeTmI

We begin our service with the Invocation:

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Confession and Absolution   Page 184-185

The Introit –

Psalm 34:8-10; Psalm 145:16

 You open your hand;     you satisfy the desire of every living thing.                                                                                        8 Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!     Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! 9 Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,     for those who fear him have no lack! 10 The young lions suffer want and hunger;     but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.                    

 Glory be to the Father and to the Son

and to the Holy Spirit; 

as it was in the beginning, 

is now, and will be forever. Amen.   

                                                                                                               You open your hand;     you satisfy the desire of every living thing.

The Kyrie  (Lord Have Mercy)

Congregation:

Lord have mercy upon us.

Christ have mercy upon us.

Lord have mercy upon us.

The Salutation:

Pastor:  The Lord be with you.

Congregation:  And with thy spirit.

Our Collect Prayer:

Gracious Father, Your blessed Son came down from heaven to be the true bread that gives life to the world. Grant that Christ, the bread of life, may live in us and we in Him, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Our Bible readings this Sunday:

Old Testament – 1st Kings 19:1-8

Psalm 34:1-8 (antiphon v.3)

Epistle – Ephesians 4:17 – 5:2

Gospel – John 6:35-51

The Apostles’ Creed –

I believe in God, the Father almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day he rose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand of God

the Father almighty.

From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy Christian Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

Our Hymn of the Day is: “Lord Jesus Christ, You Have Prepared”

Lutheran Service Book, 625  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTE0BvNeTmI

The Sermon,

God Comes to Us in Jesus –

There are no more important questions than: how are we saved, can we be saved, and by whom?

Jesus Himself gives us the answers this morning in the Gospel of John.

In pagan religions and false Christian denominations, you must save yourself, in whole or part.

Whether its climbing mystical staircases to Heaven, memorizing chants, self-denial, or vision-seeking contemplation, this false spirituality insists you must ascend to God.

We should literally thank God that He hasn’t left us to our own devices, abandoned us to self-salvation.

God the Father has sent a Saviour, His only Son Jesus, who descends from Heaven to feed us the food that leads to eternal life, Himself.

He sacrifices His body on a cross to pay for our sins, not His own, to reconcile us with a perfect, holy, and loving God.

Notice in our passage from John that it’s the Father who gives believers to Christ (v.37,39).

Jesus explains, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.” (v.44)

It is God who instructs and leads us to Christ and salvation, “And they will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.” (v.45)

Why has God done all this, our Saviour tells us, “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” (v.40)

So much for the vain, self-centered salvation of the so-called ‘reformed’ churches with their altar calls and ‘decision theology’ that claims we choose God.

Jesus made clear, even to the disciples in John 15:16, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.”

So much for the mystical, egotistical ‘spirituality’ of the catholic church that falsely teaches we must, or even can, contribute to our own salvation.

Christ alone is the Saviour.

Romans 3:10-11 explains our condition: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.”

The message of the Lutheran Reformation is the message of the Bible: We’re saved by God’s grace alone, through faith alone, in Jesus Christ alone.

In the Gospel of John those who preferred self-salvation will soon get angry at Jesus, angry enough to kill Him, yet God the Father will raise Him.

Today the secular world denies Christ, and believes it’s good enough, smart enough, strong enough to do without God, turning instead to the idolatrous ‘gods’ of money, status, and personal pleasure.

To hunger after these things and make them our ‘gods’ is death.

This Sunday our Lord, the living bread from Heaven, God in human flesh, speaks directly and plainly to us, telling us who He is, where He comes from, and how and why we’re saved.

We cannot ascend to the Almighty.

We can’t save ourselves by our ‘good works,’ Christ did that good work on the cross.

In today’s Gospel passage we hear the words of the Saviour of the world who descended to us and promises eternal life.

The gracious God who knows our hopeless, sinful condition lovingly calls to us and through His Holy Spirit creates the faith which trusts in Jesus.

He does that through the means of grace in our Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and in His Word, the Bible.

He’s done that and continues to do it, even now.

For you, for me.

We can’t make faith, but God can.

And that faith delights in the presence of Jesus Christ, our only Saviour.

To Him alone be all glory, honour, and praise.

Amen.

PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH

SERVICE OF THE SACRAMENT       Page 194   

THE LORD’S PRAYER                          Page 196 

THE WORDS OF OUR LORD             Page 197

Pax Domini 

Pastor: The peace of the Lord be with you always.   

Congregation: Amen.

THE DISTRIBUTION

Post Communion Collect (Right-hand column)  Page 201 

Salutation and Benedicamus  Page 201-202 

The Benediction –

The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and + give you peace.

Amen.

Our Closing Hymn is: “God of Grace and God of Glory:

Lutheran Service Book, 850 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUioKmx_vvA

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“The coward does it with the hangman close of”)

A cinquain sequence

               I

Changing to rain. The coward does it with the hangman close of love, all my wooing is done.

               II

Perhaps his horse are doing! They think a murderer’s collar take his last look wanton-wise.

               III

The clocks stopped clock. The moon is bright in Autumn’s sky, and thence full many wanton thru the floor.

               IV

And cleanse his soul from Sin? Truth fails not; but her last word—’Oh. Quickened his step seemed light and Day?

               V

Is shining fronts, their uniforms were still. Whoever in Love’s fire that thou wilt be my ain.

               VI

So that was. Copartner of the sweet, than when flowers: but the only word I understood.

               VII

He that moment’s store five years of blood the whitewashed wall that he had to swing. Good Susan Gale.

               VIII

At the fire? Which Betty will not love’s fingers, and sorrows more than the sun did shine so cold.

               IX

By a doubtful spirit- voice, in that was all. And far, I am happy where you aren’t.

               X

All, or all away. Two lines of wake behind it on the lot of life in a new rhythm.

               XI

Hither the least one thieving thoughts will enter, healthy as tragedy. But she could them vphold.

               XII

With the autumn weather compelled my imaginary. Sing lullaby. And cleansed the Ground.

               XIII

Come bring young charms, which needes both use and art. Make accompt, unless your laughter, that I love.

               XIV

I wanna be your dreams to shame. Even the feature is a fresh and love comes back again.

               XV

I was passed in happy freedom by. Do thee shame, nor avarice, nor over- anxious care.

               XVI

With the Wound of our own mouths calling, Oh. Like two doomed ships that passed in happy freedom by.

               XVII

In happy freedom by.— Thus answered Johnny in his pocket bring it home.—Oh God forbid!

               XVIII

I never shed before eleven. Some faire booke doth find, with gilded girl who’s always was.

               XIX

She sits, between a bag of almost-stale croissants clenched in your hair. And around us lie?

               XX

Sun and moon builds its tower sisyphean project like a bee. Cry, Speak once more— thou lovest!

               XXI

If charmed verse or muttered prayers had power, with the windy sigh: the man had killed the door.

               XXII

The wind blows the rain.—As it were the dead. Her look out-flourish’d May: and having buried day.

               XXIII

Good of the swollen purple throat may think, the rein to give? My soul with sails of silver by.

               XXIV

They soundly slept the vow? Me—toll the silver by. Sought, a dream remember: the little girl?

               XXV

Does Man touch with grief they are, emblems mix with words that cruel father! Proving what I can give?

               XXVI

My life melts with too much thinking; thinke no more. The Shepherds as to Kings. He went back to look.

               XXVII

With sudden shock the prisoners’ cots and we have built our wall. Such valid reason no one there.

               XXVIII

It chanced your name to see. She’d seen the bed to what it touches. Says Betty, he’ll be spice.

               XXIX

And all that heard her cry, and the lampless Earth in which her idiot boy. Upon the air!

               XXX

And this sweet breath more sweet; but I never bleach. To join the living thing, of Johnny’s glory.

               XXXI

With open mouth he drank the sunlight not fooles in my own. Say thou dost love Truth and me.

               XXXII

I want to grow old and grey. The down, and should be, like life and fear, a dark reality.

               XXXIII

Like the Body and that he had quit, and through the wood. And the meadows in which were unjust.

               XXXIV

Is my Mother’s pocketbook. And, grumbling, cold, in thine armes, if learnd fame truth so foul a lie!

               XXXV

The first sight, as she wrought! Ah foolish tear, unlink’d with me. For the mountains high; such thy bloom!

               XXXVI

She hardly spare, unworthy things of Dove, a maid whom there was a theft. To thee, Cynara!

               XXXVII

I’ll tell me, Love within a mile, no hand to write in the dark. And under the mother’s face.

               XXXVIII

No more I know, I wish is understand. Haste, precious friend, and I sigh one another kiss.

               XXXIX

Stella, I say my Stella, should do long. If he is hurt in life or limb—oh God forbid!

               XL

Sometimes these cogitations still as a bar of iron. And Johnny do, I pray you do.

               XLI

And wondered why men knelt to pray who never will be out of prison walls suddenly seemed.

[lucyandthepen]

a lesson on style - v . [ ljn | njm ]

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv.,  pt. v, pt. vi

you’ve always been content with being associated with one word and one word only: average. average in looks, academics and social skills, you’re just looking to graduate high school without causing disasters you’ll have to live with until you kick the bucket. when you’re paired with school king lee jeno for the semester-long physics thesis, you can’t help but think the entire situation has pretty much set itself up for failure. that is, until you strike a deal with your partner. alternatively: an au tale involving lessons in popularity, eleven consecutive B­ minuses, a secretly sensitive, chess­-loving jock, and an amateur sex tape.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader, jaemin x fem!reader    verse: high school au { jocks!nomin ft. a super cute whiny ap physics genius renjun }  rating: M for sexual themes ( there are allusions to sex but no explicit smut! ) chapter warnings: none!  word count: 10.9k

author’s note: is this twice as long as any other chapter? yes. do i believe it might be twice as devastating? also yes. side note, i sincerely hate proofreading and the thing i hate the most is trying to figure out where i applied italics and stuff because it doesn’t transfer over from google docs to this gosh darn tumblr text editor and i refuse to use the weird beta one so if anyone has any ideas on how to retain it please lmk :^(

tagging: @justalildumpling, @spiderrenjunfics

It’s a yes or no question, you tell yourself. It’s literally one answer, one word — yes or no. And you don’t even have to second-guess it, because you know the truth, and it’s not a complicated one. It shouldn’t be that difficult to answer.  With Jeno looking at you, though, you feel a little off-kilter, as per usual. Still, even with his gaze on you, you think that your response should be as normal, calm, and truthful as possible.

What comes out of you is a derisive laugh that clearly shocks the both of you.

“Wh — dating you — I wouldn’t — that’s preposterous,” you splutter out, gripping your laptop so tightly that you actually hear the bottom of I make a soft sound as the metal tightens. You’ve never used the word preposterous in any real life conversation, and it’s clear Jeno hasn’t heard it in a similar context either because he looks at you weird.  

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m mad about it,” he goes on. “I’m just wondering why he’d say that, unless you said something.”

“He — I — he — he’s crazy. All smart people are loopy,” you laugh again, and it sounds even grosser this time, with your voice going up really high and breathy like you’re being strangled to death. Which, come to think of it, you’re pretty much doing to yourself, figuratively. “That had no basis whatsoever. I would — I would never. Ever.”

“Never… date me?” His eyebrows shoot up so high they almost touch his hairline.

“Yes! I mean — no, no! I mean, I would definitely not say that we were dating when we’re obviously—” you laugh derisively again, which just causes Jeno to look even more confused. “We are clearly, obviously, clearly not. Not dating.”

“Obviously,” he repeats simply.

“Yes. That’s… I mean, obviously, I would date you, like in the hypothetical way, because… I mean, why not? but we — you know. We’re not. Dating. Definitely not.” Your heart rate, thankfully, is starting to decline from the thousand beats per second it had been going in; Jeno’s eyebrows are also calming down. “Right?”

“Right,” he confirms slowly.

“Right. So. I didn’t say we were to him. Or anyone. Nothing.”

“Oh, okay,” he finally says after a moment of silence. “That was just… plain out of the blue, then.”

“Totally,” you agree wholeheartedly. “So, so weird.”  

“Okay,” he shifts his position now, turning more deliberately towards you; you instinctively grip your laptop tighter, pressing it harder against your stomach. The bottom corners dig in, and in your peripheral vision, you can see that you’ve been pressing the A key down for so long that you have an AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA in your chat box with Renjun and he’s typed out a very concerned and confused WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG TO TYPE. You move your thumb away from the keypad. “Sorry for the sudden question. I just wanted to clarify because, you know, I don’t want anyone else to think we are yet, or anything. And I definitely don’t want Huang Renjun attacking me for the wrong things, considering his track record.”

Your heart suddenly skids to a stop at the yet. He’d said it so offhandedly you were sure he wasn’t giving it much thought, but to you, this kind of felt like one of those weird, fever-induced dreams you had, except it seemed to be going fairly well as long as you didn’t factor in just how much you’d blubbered just now.  

“Um. Right,” is all you can say.

“That being said,” he jams his hat back onto his head, which is ludicrous considering he’s inside, but it just makes him look cuter, and you’ve never minded that. “Thanks for saying you’d date me. Hypothetically.”

“Oh — that. Right. You’re welcome,” you reply, and you desperately want to ask if he’d also hypothetically date you, but you sort of also don’t really want to know the answer. In the moment that it takes for you to tell your brain to quiet down, he claps his hands, startling you a little.

“All right. So. Project. Proposal. Graduating.” He points to your laptop, and you nod vehemently, shifting it against your stomach a little to make sure he doesn’t see the chat box with Renjun. “Let’s get to it, then.”

You hurriedly exit your internet browser and open a blank Word document. It kicks off slowly, with you taking a good fifteen minutes to format the title page because you’re not sure which citation style to use and also because you can’t stop thinking about the previous conversation, which causes you to misspell both your names wrongly. Luckily, Jeno doesn’t say anything, even though he clearly sees your blunders; the fact that he is clearly attempting to be interested (or pretending really well to be) in getting things done allows you to pick up a slightly more comfortable pace of discussion later on. He even agrees to do a lot of the supposed heavy lifting in the experimentation phase, which involves playing musical instruments, and you volunteer to do the mathematical work, which is the only thing you think you’ll be able to do in that part of the experiment anyway.  

Everyone in your house is up at this time, so it gets increasingly louder as the hours move on. There’s some kind of intermittent yelling coming from your brothers’ room that could either be Jiho gaming or Jiho getting strangled, but no one seems too alarmed apart from Jeno, who learns to let it go once you tell him that your other brother is in there with him and is probably the one strangling him, if the latter scenario is true. Either way, your dad comes out, banging on their room door to keep it down, which adds to more of the noise pollution.

Sooyeon also makes it down later than everyone else, dressed but still clearly out of sorts, stopping mid-yawn when she sees you and Jeno sitting together as you’re trying to drag out an explanation of what the significance of the study is.

“Oh. Good morning,” she sidles over to you, sitting on the arm of the couch next to you to peek over your shoulder at your laptop; you know she’s not really interested in your work, but her inherent nosiness makes her acting so natural. “What are you guys working on?”

“Physics term project.”

“Oh, right. You mentioned you guys were partners. How’s it going?”

“It’s going… well. Fine.” You bend your laptop’s monitor down halfway so she stops looking.

“Oh, I know you,” Jeno suddenly snaps his fingers, pointing his finger at her. Your sister looks up, beaming. “You’re on the cheerleading team. I’ve been trying to figure out who you look like since last year,” he turns to you, amused. “Can’t believe it took me this long. Small world. Hey, how come you’re not on the cheerleading team?”

“Because she wouldn’t give up Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo for late-night cheer practice,” your sister reasons out for you before you can find a cooler (and less honest) excuse. “Hey, dad’s taking me to the mall. Do you need anything? We’re also picking up lunch, so Jeno oppa, if you’re staying for lunch, the cuisine choice is all yours.”

“Raincheck,” you deflate at Jeno’s response. “I’m supposed to be having lunch with my sister. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Can you get me a new USB drive?” You weigh in. “And not the crappy Daiso kind.”

“Okay. Text me so I don’t forget. Not now,” Sooyeon pushes down your hand before you can pick up your phone. “Wait ten minutes, then text me. Hey, dad, can we get tangsuyuk today?”

Your dad is by the door, two brothers in tow, having probably convinced them to leave the house as well, and Sooyeon joins them, pushing them all out hurriedly. You don’t miss the fact that she winks at you just before closing the door, and you resist waving her away.

“You… have a really big family.” Jeno finally speaks up again once you’re alone.

“Yeah. Sorry. It would have been worse if my mom were here. She might have tried to adopt you.”

“Jaemin’s mom technically has first dibs,” he lifts a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes a little aggressively. “Do you think we can call time of death on this for today? My eyes are falling out of my skull.”

“Sure; I can finish up the conclusion anyway. It’s just… repeating everything we said, but really fast. I’ll just e-mail you a copy for safety.” You save the document as he nods, working your trackpad so you can open your NAVER mail account and attach the file. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “Uh… sorry, but I just realized I don’t have your e-mail address.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he reaches out, and you retract your hands quickly, planting them firmly onto your lap. He starts typing away, pressing send and turning the laptop back to you with a satisfied groan. “Cool. So — serious question. Why aren’t you on the cheerleading team if your sister is?”

“Well, I was going to come up with a great excuse, but since I got ratted out — I don’t really like staying in school late. Plus, they practice on rainy days, which is not my thing.”

“I mean, we do too on the football team, and it’s usually fine. It’s weird; do you not dance? Or… I don’t know, cheer, or whatever?”

“I mean, I don’t fail PE, or anything. I just… never had the interest.” You admit, shutting down your laptop.

“I could talk to Jimin — you know, the captain? We’re pretty close.” He pauses, then adds an afterthought. “She’s dating one of the other guys on my team.”

“Who?”

“I’ve told you about Jisung, right? That enormous tree of a guy with the small face?”

“Kind of weird for a guy as tall as you to call a similarly tall guy a tree…” you trail off, and he laughs — laughs! Score for your unintended humor. “But yeah, I’ve seen him around.”

“Yeah, so they’re a thing. Anyway, what was I sayi — oh, yeah. If you want me to talk to her, give you a shot at it, I think she’d be open to it. You don’t have to be a gymnast or anything, I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s a really nice gesture, but I’ll pass.”

Jeno sighs, leaning back onto the couch and lifting one of his legs to cross it casually over his knee. He looks at you disapprovingly, which is a little terrifying until you realize he’s feigning it because his lips are curling up a little. So cute. “Come on, _______________. Okay — lesson number one.”

“What?” You’re at a loss, and you don’t bother hiding it this time. “Lesson?”

“I told you I’d help you get more popular, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we were having lectures and quizzes.”

“No quizzes,” he corrects you. “Lectures, very brief. Five minutes tops. I have no time to grade anything.”

“Well let me just—” you grab your phone, trying to navigate to the voice memos app, but he takes it from you and plants it back onto the table. You note how his fingers brush yours briefly, leaving you frozen, your hand still shaped around a phone that isn’t in your grasp anymore.

“No need to record anything. Note taking is for nerds. Just listen to me. Be in the moment. Absorb it,” he instructs. “First lesson in being popular: don’t turn down things that will make you more popular.”

“Okay, that one was fairly obv — what are you doing?”  

“I’m texting,” he really is, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his contacts before he starts tapping away on his phone screen. “I told you; I’m sure Jimin will be more than happy to —“

“Wait — okay, stop, stop,” it’s your turn to seize his phone from him, but you don’t do so very smoothly, and it ends up falling midway from him to you, wedging itself into a crack in your couch cushions. Jeno doesn’t really seem like he minds in particular, but he does offhandedly reprimand you for it.

“You’re being a horrible student.”

“I’m not — look, no, thank you for… you know, going the extra mile to ask for me,” you fish his phone out of the couch, making sure to exit the messaging app. “But I can’t join the cheerleading team.”

“Why not? It’ll make you infinitely cooler. Is it because your sister’s on it? Because we can get her kicked out if you really want —“

“Wh— no, I don’t want my sister kicked out!” You raise your voice in tandem with your palm, and he desists, a little surprised at how loud you’ve gotten. “I’m just saying that it’s the last semester of high school. There’s no point in me joining. I won’t even last a full year on that team.”

Jeno falls silent, suddenly struck by the logic in your words. “Huh. I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

Now that you feel like it’s kind of safe, you perch his phone back onto his thigh, and he takes it, slipping it between his legs without a second thought. You try hard not to think about how his phone may have brushed against his… never mind.

“So I… you know, I appreciate what you wanted to do for me. Really; it was… extremely cool of you,” you say with utmost sincerity. “But as a plan, I feel like… there might be better ones.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “But the lesson still stands. The things I recommend that you do, I really feel like you should do them.”

“I promise this’ll be the last time I reject your suggestions.”

“Cool. Well — we just have to think about what else we could do to help you get up that ladder.” He looks up at your ceiling, a little wistful, and you feel so useless that you just busy yourself with shutting your laptop down. This sudden silence drags on until he snaps your fingers and you start, turning your attention back to him. “Oh, I know. You can come to this party I’m throwing next week.”

“You’re throwing a party?”

“Yeah. I just thought about doing it. Like, right now.”

This time, you don’t even have to try to push away the idea that he’d just thought to throw a party for you; a surge of unpleasant memories arises to do the job. The last party you’d been to was back in middle school, and it had ended with you skidding across the floor because someone had puked on it. You were only lucky that the extremely furious parents who actually owned the house and didn’t know that there would be a party in their living room had caught you before you’d broken something of theirs.

You remember Jeno had been there. He was in a different section at that time, and you’d never spoken with him; in fact, you’re fairly certain you hadn’t known his name back then. But even so, he was still the coolest kid in attendance. Everyone liked that kid that was extremely tall and good-looking and also knew how to play the electric piano.

“That’s… cool.” You inhale a little reluctantly, and Jeno cottons on, looking at you warily. “It’s just… you know. Parties. They get messy. People get drunk. Puke. Make out.”

“Yeah. That’s what they’re for.”

“Not really my scene. Especially the puking part.”

“Oh god, I remember I was at this party once in middle school. Some kid had puked in the middle of the living room and some other poor chick had slipped on it. Hilarious.”

“Ha,” you feign laughter, and it sounds disgustingly dry. “Hilarious, yeah. Can’t remember that happening, but I’m sure that was super funny.”

“Come on. It’ll be fine. Besides, you said you wouldn’t reject any of the other stuff I recommended.” He tilts his head like he’s asking, but his face is pretty resolute. You wring your hands together, and he notices. “If I promise to make a no-puke rule, will you go?”

You know he’s doing this because he’s fulfilling a part of the bargain; it’s really more of an obligation to him than anything else, and that much is clear. Still, the way he talks, the way that he presses the subject makes it really easy to trick yourself into thinking he actually, really, really wants you there, which creates this huge, almost terrifying and overwhelming wave of elation that muddles you into agreement.

“Okay. I’ll go.” He smiles at your response, and the feeling in your chest just swells to a new height; it’s almost like he’s happy you’re going, or you can at least delude yourself into thinking that much.

“Awesome. I’ll let you know about the details, although it’ll probably be at Jaemin’s.”

You point to the opposite side of your house, in the general direction of your neighbor’s lot. “That Jaemin?”

“The one and only.”

“I guess it’s cool if I don’t have to look for a ride.”

“You can still hop into my car. Make a grand entrance. People will love that.”

“That’s okay,” you laugh again, but this time, it sounds genuine, to your relief. “But is Jaemin going to be okay with it? His parents?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. They all love me,” he chuckles. “Jaemin won’t say no, anyway. It’s not like we can have it at my place.”

“Why… not?” You suddenly get flashbacks of Jaemin calling you nosy, but you shake him and his loud laugh off once Jeno starts talking.

“Too small. Not good for entertaining. You guys would probably have to eat dinner in my bedroom.” He says lightly, jamming his cap back onto his head just as his phone starts ringing, a light blinking from in between his thighs. He looks down at his phone briefly before turning his attention back to his cap, making sure his bangs aren’t flattened by the rim. “That’s my sister. I’m supposed to pick her up from work. I have to get going, but hey — I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you stand with him, and he grabs his backpack before patting his pockets to make sure if he has everything valuable to him. You walk him to the door, opening it for him, and he steps out into your driveway, walking towards his car. You stand by the doorway, hugging your laptop. The assumption is that he’s just going to drive off, but he turns around as he opens the driver’s side door, pointing a finger at you like he’s just remembered something. You freeze in place, once again squishing your laptop close to you so hard that it makes a noise.

“You should probably text your sister about that USB drive, by the way.” he reminds you with a small smile before folding his enormous body and climbing into the car.

You don’t even have the opportunity to say anything because he’s shut the door behind him. Through the tinted glass, you see one pale palm move; it takes you a second to realize he’s waving at you. Your hand instantly shoots up, waving back at him as he pulls out of the driveway and back into the road.  

You wait for his car to zoom out of sight before you close the door, red in the face and ready to explode with joy.

Lee Donghyuck gives you back your proposals with a smile on his face near the end of the next physics class. Technically, he smiles like that all the time because he’s required to, but his grin looks a lot more genuine as he approaches you with your proposal, which Jeno takes from him.

“Cool topic,” he even comments, pointing a finger to the huge B-minus on top of the paper that’s circled in red ink. “You guys need to work a little on the content development, though, but it’s just the proposal. If you guys work even harder on other requirements, you’ll ace it.”

You seriously don’t think he expects you to actually ace anything, but you appreciate the quick pep talk, especially since Jeno actually looks impressed.

“I would have never thought I would have gotten a B-minus in anything for this class,” he whistles under his breath. You smile at him, not bothering to add the fact that B-minus isn’t as breathtaking of an achievement. Still, you think that if you can push each other — and also maybe Renjun into helping you out here and there — you might at least secure him a slot into the graduating class.  

You’ve gotten used to parting ways with everyone else in the class to have lunch together with Renjun, and even on days when Physics classes fall before lunch, you only linger a minute longer than usual to accord Jeno the traditional gaze of longing that he doesn’t notice before dashing off. This time, though, as you’re gathering your books and making to leave, Jeno stands up with you, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  

And there they are — the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him. Well, some of them.

“Want to walk to the cafeteria together?”

You look around to make sure he’s not calling out to anyone else, which becomes clear once you realize the only other person who’s left behind is Lee Donghyuck, and he doesn’t even turn at the sound of Jeno’s voice.

“Really?” You can’t even mask the elation in your voice, which just spikes when you see the corners of Jeno’s lips turn up slightly in amusement. “Yeah — yeah, okay.”

No one actually looks at you while you walk next to him in the cafeteria; the probability is that his height eclipses yours so much that you don’t even look that noticeable, and neither of you is causing a scene, which is always a great bonus. You have to take two steps for every one of his, but you also notice that he’s taking a much slower pace than usual, which can only mean that he’s making sure you can keep up.

You spot Renjun at your usual table, reading Lee Ho Cheol’s Panmunjeom anthology, which he’d posted about on his Facebook status over the weekend. The feeling of being able to like his statuses again was fairly nice, and you’d given it the little heart reaction. On instinct, your feet carry you towards him until you feel a warm hand wrap around your forearm. It covers more than half of that part of your arm, so it can’t be anyone’s but Jeno’s, and you look up in total shock as he stares down at you with equally strong confusion.

“Where are you going?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

“What… are you doing…” you breathe out, feeling a little faint. He doesn’t notice that you look like you’re close to drooling on him since he’s starting to steer you away from Renjun. “What…”

“Table’s this way,” he says plainly, like this should be obvious to you. You can see that he’s headed towards where he normally sits, which is already filled with people, laughing loudly and talking over one another. You jerk your head back to Renjun, who has noticed you now and is watching you with an unreadable expression over the top of his book, half of his face hidden.

“Um — yeah, but I just thought —“

“Okay, so second lesson — don’t write this down,” he stops you from reaching into your pocket to bring out a pen. “If you want to be popular, you need to make sure you surround yourself with equally popular people.”

“Are these rules stuff you just sort of make up on the go, or…?”

He gives you an amused and patronizing look. “Obviously.”

“Okay — okay, but can’t Renjun sit with us?”

“He can if he’s not just going to ignore everyone by reading his book. Or if he’s not going to make any mean comments about anyone.”

You open your mouth, ready to promise he’s not going to, but you’re struck by the realization that he might just sit there and finish Panmunjeom without even saying hello. Even if he didn’t, you can’t guarantee that Renjun will be pleasant around everyone being noisy all at once about things he doesn’t really care about. Being pleasant around one person — Jeno — is already kind of a herculean task for him.  

“Yeah, okay, fine. But can’t I at least tell him I’m sitting here?”

Jeno slowly releases your hand, nodding. You try not to make it too obvious that you’re disappointed at how quickly that moment of contact had come and gone. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get my food and save you a seat, then.”

You wait for him to walk towards the cafeteria line, noticing that a couple of freshmen give way so he can go first; you can tell he smiles at them because they giggle as he walks by and grabs a tray. Making a beeline for Renjun, you also see that he suddenly lifts his book higher to cover his face, probably to hide the fact that he hasn’t flipped a page since.

“Hey,” you say, and he puts the book down, looking disgustingly innocent in his fake surprise.

“Hey. When did you get here?”

“Just now,” you slip into the chair across from him. “What’s for lunch?”

“Something they say is bulgogi but might be yesterday’s fake steaks cut into really thin pieces.”

“Okay, cool,” you don’t even look at the bowl when he tilts it your way so you can see. “Anyway, um, I really hope you don’t mind, but Jeno asked me to sit with him today for lunch.”

“Oh.” Renjun takes a bit of bulgogi on his fork, examining it with feigned interest before popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly. “I see.”

“It’s just for today. I promise. Are you — is that okay?”

He studies your expectant face, thumb brushing over the spine of his book. Your fingers are knotted on the table like you’re praying.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he finally concedes. “I said I’d support you… so… this is me. Supporting. You. The both of you. If that’s already a thing.”

“It’s not, but you’re the best,” you reach out, giving his hand a squeeze. He mutters something that sounds like I know, taking his hand back and using it to shut his book.  

“But we’re still going to see Love and Thunder  this Saturday, right?” He confirms.  

“Ye— oh, wait,” his expression darkens considerably when you backtrack, looking a little sheepish. “I think I might have something to do over the weekend, so I can’t really make any promises right now.”

“Dude, seriously? It’s the movie of the year. What could be more important than three hours of Marvel hero ass-kicking?”

“Well, it’s just,” you drum your fingers against the table, trying to think of a less direct way to phrase such a basic statement. You come up with nothing, so you just come clean. “There’s a party…”

“You hate parties,” Renjun replies immediately. “You’ve haven’t been to one since middle school.”

“I know that, but —“

“Do you? Does it make sense that you know that you hate parties but are thinking of going to one anyway?”

“Well — you know. Jeno invited me.”

Renjun makes a slightly sour face, but it isn’t directed at you; he’s looking at Jeno, probably, seated a little way away. You turn to look apologetically at him, but you notice that he’s already looking your way, his eyes narrowed in effort like he’s trying to read your lips from this distance but can’t.

“What if something bad happens? Parties aren’t exactly the safest, cleanest, least traumatic events in the world,” Renjun points out. “You could turn someone’s house into a puke slip ’n slide again.”

“Or,” you raise a finger. “Is this the party I could go to so that I can forget about that event that happened ages ago and, thus, free myself from that trauma?”

“Thus? What is happening to you?” He shakes his head, fingers coming up to knead at his brow. “But — so no Love and Thunder?”  

“We can go the day after.”

“You’re not going to be too hungover?”

“No, of course not. Besides, it’s going to be at Jaemin’s house. If it gets too much, I can just walk home.” You can see he’s softening at the mention of it being in a nearby location and not in like, some abandoned warehouse. “Plus, you can come. You know, we can have fun together. Just… eat, dance a little, mingle. It’ll be fine.”

“Am I allowed to come?”

“Of course,” you don’t know if there’s a guest list, or anything, but Renjun seems to get along with most people in your level as long as their names don’t start with a J and end with a eno. “Please? We can even walk there together.”

“It’s like twenty steps from your house, so it’s really not the appealing case you think you’re making.” He sighs. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. And we can watch Love and Thunder the next day. But I’m holding you to that.”  

“Awesome,” your heart feels infinitely lighter, and Renjun even gives you a half-hearted grin. “Great — so, I’ll just — you know —“ you point towards Jeno’s table; Renjun nods slowly, picking up his book again.

“Yes, yes. Go on,” he shoos you away, once again pretending to grow immersed in his book, even though you know he’s snorting to himself when you give him an excited thumbs up before leaving the table.

You even feel like there’s a small skip to your step when you walk to the line, and the grin never leaves your lips as you get your tray and pile what really does look like fake bulgogi on your plate; the cafeteria lady is surprised by your expression, considering you’re surrounded by generally somber ones, and she mistakes your smile as you being excited to eat the food and tells you to take more. Somehow, you’re in such a good mood that you do, which earns some alarmed stares from the people behind you.

The conversation is in full swing when you approach Jeno’s table, and your heart jumps a little when you’ve noticed that he’s kept his word and saved a seat for you — right beside him, no less. His food is half-finished, and he’s talking to Park Jisung about what sounds like some massive multiplayer online shooting game, but he stops when you sit down.

“You guys don’t know _______________, right?” He addresses the whole table; a whole set of eyes lands on you suddenly as his voice rings louder than everyone else’s. “She’s my physics project partner.”

“Of course we know her,” the girl to Jisung’s right, Jimin, pipes up. “We don’t live under a rock, and we’re almost all in the same year, dumbass.”

“I was just announcing it for Jisung’s and Minjeong’s sakes,” Jeno fires back easily. “Who, by the way, aren’t in the same year level.”

“Well, address them specifically next time,” she laughs. “Hey, _____________.”

“Hello,” despite your excitement, your voice comes out way smaller than normal, and it even cracks, which causes you to clear your throat, a feat that mysteriously causes most people to laugh.  

“I know Jimin noona is dazzling to everyone,” Jisung says. “But just for the record, she’s taken. By me. Obviously.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded, as Jeno tosses a wilted leaf of lettuce at his face. It doesn’t even make it to the halfway point of the gap the table makes between them. Jisung sticks out his tongue childishly.

“Anyways, I told you guys earlier that we were having a party, this weekend, right?” He points at Jaemin, who, until now, has been quietly wrapping his bulgogi into his lettuce and stuffing them whole into his mouth. “Your house, dude.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes good-naturedly, still in the middle of chewing his food, but he takes one big gulp to respond. “Did you even ask me?”

“Does he ever?” Jisung contributes, amused. “Jeno hyung, why can’t we ever have parties at your place? Jaemin hyung’s house has like ten million pictures of his family that we might break.”  

“Okay, fine; my house. You guys better pull food weight this time, though,” Jaemin agrees suddenly, like he hadn’t been indignant a moment ago. Jeno looks satisfied with this response, not bothering to answer Jisung’s question, which is a little weird; you’d assumed that everyone he was close to also knew of the reason why he never held any events at his house considering the answer he’d given you when you’d asked the same thing had been so simplistic. You don’t take the time to dwell on this, however, since Jeno speaks up.

“I’ll bring the drinks,” he volunteers before adding, “Ice included, Jisung.” The latter makes a face at him, and everyone laughs again, and you presume it’s some inside joke. You smile for a second before you realize it probably seems disingenuous.

It’s weird, you think, that they’re so comfortable around each other, even with their seemingly different personalities. It had always just been you and Renjun, which suited you just fine, but it’s also robbed you of the opportunity to figure out how to interact in a much larger, more outgoing crowd, which is a missed opportunity you’re feeling the effects of now. People start piping up about what they’re going to bring, with Jisung getting a small smack upside the head from Jimin after he volunteers (again, apparently) to bring utensils and “himself, which is gift enough.”

“What should I bring?” You whisper to Jeno.

“Nothing,” he sounds surprisingly sincere and reassuring, not to mention he matches the volume of your voice somehow, making it seem like you’re having your own private conversation. “Just come and have fun.”

“Okay,” you half-wheeze, and he smiles down at you before rejoining the conversation, responding immediately when Jaemin speaks up.

“This time, you guys seriously need to stay away from my bedroom. And my brother’s. And my parents’. Actually, what I’m really saying is that you people need to unlearn how to use stairs.”

“You’re really going to deny your room any action?” Jeno fires back easily.

“I don’t want to go to sleep on a bed someone else made out on,” Jaemin sighs, in a heavy way that somehow causes you to think he’s probably been through it more than once before.

“No one just makes out on a bed.”

“We’re in school, Jeno. You know what I mean.”

“We’ve made out on a bed,” Jisung wiggles a finger between himself and Jimin, who tells him to shut up, something he does almost immediately, even if he and Jeno exchange a high five that creates a sound so loud you’re surprised there’s no physical aftershock.

“________________, Minjeong and I were going to go to the mall on Saturday morning,” Jimin calls your attention underneath Jeno and Jisung’s long arms. “Want to come with? We can have lunch together, too.”

“Oh — yeah, sure,” you agree, and she smiles so brightly and sweetly at you that you blush. Jisung was right about the dazzling thing, then.

“Cool. Text me your address and we can come pick you up.”

You spend the rest of your lunch mostly listening and learning about these people, and you’re somewhat thankful they don’t put you in the hot seat and just interrogate you about yourself. You find out that Minjeong’s trying to get her driver’s license soon, and Jisung had actually been interested in joining an entertainment company as an idol trainee before he’d found out that they confiscate your phone for years, something that ended up being a dealbreaker for him. You learn that Jimin is applying for a English Comparative Literature undergraduate degree in Seoul National University, which Jisung says is inexplicably both “the hottest and the most boring thing about her.”  

The weirdest thing you learn about this band of friends comes up when Jaemin suddenly stands, saying goodbye to everyone hurriedly before rushing off with his plate. No one finds this weird except you, so you bring it up.

“Oh, Jaemin hyung is on the chess team. He has practice during lunch once a week,” Jisung informs you when you ask.

“He’s on the what?” You glance at Jaemin, who’s walking out of the cafeteria at a brisk pace.

“The chess team,” he repeats without any further explanation. You look at Jeno, who shrugs at you.

“Yeah, he likes that stuff. Everyone in our year is a big nerd.”

“Except you and me,” you add, and his lips turn up again, seemingly pleased with your statement. There it is again — your heart flipping over and screaming wildly.  

“Exactly. Except you and me.”

You don’t actually expect Jimin to follow through with her shopping invite, but she actually ends up texting you on Saturday morning instead of the other way around, asking for your address again after saying that she’d gotten your number from Jeno. You’re so out of sorts when they arrive not ten minutes later that you actually have to double back for your wallet and your phone.  

Jimin has almost always been in a separate section from you in school, while Minjeong is a whole year below you, and they’re also extremely close, so you’d never really gotten the chance to know them, and your expectation is that this excursion is going to be an awkward and pitiful event. They end up being really nice, though, and Minjeong even asks you about your physics project with a tone of genuine interest, commenting about how Jeno is exceptionally good at playing the guitar. You also naturally assume that they’re going to just mill around the boutique area for clothes, but Jimin actually drags you around to some electronics shops to look for a gaming headset for Jisung, and Minjeong goes to three different pet stores to look for the right dog food.  

“You should have tried out for the cheerleading team,” Jimin says when the three of you have settled down at the food court with bowls of bibimbap. Minjeong wordlessly picks out the carrots from her bowl and dumps them in Jimin’s, who doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “We’re a little under the member quota right now. No one likes risking their lives on human pyramids anymore.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, and Jimin laughs.

“Seriously. It wouldn’t hurt for you to try. Besides, even if it’s the last semester, we could really use some extra members. Right, Minjeong?”  

Minjeong looks up at you, her egg dangling between her chopsticks.

“Do you want my egg, _____________?”

“Sure,” you reply, amused. She quickly lays the egg on top of your own, even going so far as to arrange them neatly so that their yolks are aligned. “Are you allergic to something?”

“She’s a picky eater.” Jimin explains, using her spoon to squash her egg’s yolk.

“I have a refined palate,” Minjeong corrects her, fishing out a stray piece of carrot and placing it in Jimin’s bowl.

“You eat like a baby.”

“Baby food is pretty good.” Minjeong admits. “The banana-flavored ones are nice.”  

“Gross,” Jimin laughs. “This is exactly why you and Jaemin broke up.”

“You and Jaemin dated?” You raise your eyebrows. Minjeong nods, mixing her rice methodically with her spoon. “What happened?”  

“He got tired of ordering banana-flavored baby food for her,” Jimin quips.

“Will you shut up? Anyway — yeah, we dated last year, really briefly. We just didn’t work out. I did some work for my dad over the weekends back then, so we just never got the chance to go on actual dates. We said we were going to take a break or something, revisit the dating thing when we were less busy, but we just kind of left it in the past, and we started seeing other people.”

“You started seeing other people, you mean,” Jimin corrects her. Minjeong nods, thoughtfully mixing her rice before taking a slow bite.  

“Yeah. Besides, it just sort of felt like a relationship of convenience. Like, we were both there, we were both single, so we tried it. It was okay while it lasted. We’re still friends.”

“But I’ve already heard about Minjeong’s boring love life six hundred times,” Jimin points her spoon at you, a grain of rice flying at high speed in your direction. “Oops, sorry. So what’s going on with you and Jeno?”  

“Oh,” you have to swallow your own spoonful of bibimbap hard because your throat has suddenly constricted. “Nothing’s going on with us. We’re just partners. And… friends?”  

“You’re not dating?”

“Not in the slightest.” Your mind flips back to when Jeno had said he didn’t want people getting the wrong idea about the both of you. Yet. Whatever that meant. “No way.”  

“Oh,” Jimin looks weirdly disappointed. “I thought you were, since he suddenly started asking about who you were seeing. We thought it was a trick question, like we were supposed to answer ‘him.’”  

“But you like him,” Minjeong says it like it’s not a question but a factual statement, which it is, but you still take a while to respond, feeling put on the spot suddenly.  

“I mean… he’s nice.”  

“And cute,” Jimin adds.  

“And cute,” you agree. She smiles triumphantly, as if this is some kind of game she’s winning. “But… nothing’s going on.”  

“Well, Jeno doesn’t date often. I mean, he goes out with girls. But I don’t think he’s been in a relationship for a while,” Minjeong adds thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s starting to think about getting serious with someone?”

“I don’t know.” You like the idea of it, but realistically speaking, it’s not like you two were that close. Then again, you also weren’t sure about how close any two people should be to start thinking about dating each other. It’s not like there’s some kind of rule book. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Coy answer,” Jimin sounds approving. “Definitely a sign that something’s going on.”

“Wh— no, I mean, I’m not sure about… you know, we don’t really talk—“

“You don’t really have to,” Jimin winks, and the seaweed pieces in your bibimbap suddenly get very interesting, even though you know the two of them are exchanging looks.  

They drop you back home after lunch, waving goodbye (with Jimin screaming out a see you later!) as they drive off, and you’re so exhausted from the walking and the fact that you’d had to carry Minjeong’s bags of premium dog food back to her car that you fall asleep the moment your body hits your bed. You wake up with a considerable amount of drool on your pillow and three missed calls from Renjun.  

“Not that it’s a big deal,” Renjun says when you call him back. “But I don’t know what to wear to parties.”

“I don’t think it’s a black tie event,” you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Just wear something casual? Cool? I don’t know either. Also, when did you suddenly start caring about how you looked at parties?”  

“You make it sound like I’ve never tried beforehand.”

“Your signature style is graphic tee and jeans, so…” There’s a loud noise on his end of the call and you hear him mumble a swear word. “What happened?”  

“The closet rod fell,” he whines. “Also, graphic tee and jeans are Jeno’s signature style too. He even had ripped jeans, which make him look more homeless than I do.”  

“Jeno’s jeans are artistically ripped,” you correct him. “Yours are ripped because your dog tries to eat them when they’re hanging out to dry.”

“And you don’t know if Jeno’s own dog has ripped his jeans artistically,” you can hear him struggling with the metal rod, and his voice becomes more and more muffled as you assume that his phone is sinking deeper into his neck as he holds it between his shoulder and ear. “I’ll call you back. Or — you know what, I’ll just be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it twenty, I’m still half-asleep.” You hang up and press your face into your pillow, falling back asleep until Renjun arrives within the promised twenty minute time span, chastising you for your lack of punctuality the entire time you sluggishly change your clothes. The only helpful thing he does is call your sister in to help you fix your hair, which she does enthusiastically as you yawn at your reflection and Renjun criticizes your poor scheduling even further while he plays online minesweeper on your laptop.  

“So we only stay for an hour, hour and a half max, right?” He confirms as you walk towards Jaemin’s house. The door is open, and there are people outside, already deep in conversation.  

“Right,” you agree. You don’t hold the fact that Renjun wants to leave quickly against him; for some reason, being around this many people is making you a little queasy, and you don’t know what people do in parties apart from truth or dare. Unfortunately, no one seems to be sitting in a circle around a spinning bottle when you enter; instead, all the furniture has been cleared out for a table that has food piled onto it, and the coffee table is stacked high with paper cups and drinks. Mark Lee and Jaemin are by the ice bucket, and the latter notices you first, waving at you.  

“Hey, ______________, Renjun. You guys made it,” Jaemin pushes a cup of what looks like Hwanta at you, taking Mark’s cup of soda as well and handing it to Renjun. “No traffic, I hope?”  

“Just the same old pile-up. It takes really long to get here, you know,” you smile, and he laughs easily.  

“So your parents are okay listening to trashy music from upstairs?” Renjun asks, looking around for any sign of parents.  

“No, they’re out for dinner with friends, and my brother stays in a dorm in college, so they’re not affected that much.” Jaemin looks like he’s about to say something else, but something beyond the two of you catches his eye and he mumbles an I’ll be right back before speeding off, disappearing into the crowd. Mark is pouring himself a new cup of soda, throwing Renjun a wounded look when he isn’t looking. You decide to strike up a conversation instead of watching him wait for Renjun to apologize for the technically stolen drink.  

“So has this been going on for a while, or…?”  

“No, it’s been maybe half an hour, or something. Oh, I think Jimin was looking for you. She’s somewhere—” He points around the room, clearly unsure. “Somewhere around here. I’m sure you’ll bump into her later. She and Jisung are probably groping each other in the garden or something.”  

“Since when did Yoo Jimin start dating Park Jisung?”  

“Since they sat next to each other on the KTX to Daegu over the break. You should ask Jisung about the make-out session that steamed up economy car A. He says seats 13 A and B still smell like her perfume and his cologne mixed together.”  

“Ew,” Renjun comments, and Mark makes a noise of agreement.  

You’re only half-paying attention to their disgust about Jisung and Jimin’s history of desecrating public spaces since you’ve spotted Jeno, who’s watching a group of juniors play what you assume is beer pong. You keep thinking about going over to him and saying hi, but you can’t seem to figure out when the right time is. Also, your nerves get the best of you, so you just stand beside Renjun as he starts a weird bonding experience with Mark Lee.  

Luckily, you don’t have to do anything at the end of the day; Jeno suddenly notices you, pushing himself off the window he’s been leaning against and walking over. You grab Renjun’s arm by instinct, and he lets out a sharp ow as you squeeze him. He manages to shake you off just before Jeno stops in front of you.

“_______________,” he looks pleased. “You made it. And… you brought Renjun with you.”

“Hey,” Renjun says flatly, handing his half-drunk cup of soda back to Mark, who takes it with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I think I see Donghyuck, so I’m gonna go say hi.”

He slips away before you can say anything, but Jeno doesn’t even look perturbed; he glances at Mark, who meets his eye then suddenly turns to walk off, and you hear him asking someone where the trash bag is.  

“So, are you enjoying?”  

“I just got here, but it seems great,” you try to sound enthusiastic even if you’re shouting a little over the new song that’s started playing. “Music’s a bit loud though.”  

“Makes awkward pauses less awkward,” he says sagely, and you can’t help but think there’s some logical inconsistency in that, but you just shrug it off, nodding up at him. “Did you get to try the pizza?”

“Not yet; why, did you make it with your own two hands, or something?”

“No,” he shrugs, grinning. “But I ordered it with my own voice.”  

You laugh as he does, but the sounds get drowned out by EXID’s Up and Down playing at full blast. He makes a motion, but you don’t catch on, so he just takes your wrist and leads you through a throng of people back to the beer pong game. Upon closer inspection, you see that the liquid inside is a lot darker than you expected.  

“It’s just cola,” Jeno explains. “We were thinking of buying beer, but most people here can’t drink anyway, so it would have been a waste of money.”  

“Smart,” you comment sincerely, watching the two guys on the opposite ends of the table consistently miss their targets. “So you just have to get the ball in the cups? And then what?”  

“The other person drinks. Hey, Jaehyun,” he calls out to one of the guys playing, who looks up and consequently gets hit in the cheek by a flying ping pong all. “Show _____________ how to play.”  

“She can just take Taeyong’s place; he sucks anyway.” This comment elicits a rude gesture from the other boy, and you notice they’re both wearing similar jackets with a logo you can’t really place but looks suspiciously official.  

“You both suck. Let her take a turn; I’m gonna go ask Jaemin if he has more ice or if we need to make a run.”  

Jeno places his hand on your back, leading you forward; the guy named Taeyong reluctantly steps aside as Jeno walks away, greeting some guy that looks familiar but who you also can’t place in your memory as he passes by.  

As it turns out, you’re not half-bad at beer pong; you manage to get Jaehyun to drink four cups of cola, which has him burping all over the place and begging for a break for his stomach. The party is in full swing now, but this is the part that starts to feel uncomfortable, and you excuse yourself from the game with the promise that you’ll play with the two of them again once you’re all of legal drinking age.  

The garden is no better when you exit; there are people in groups that you know you won’t be able to squeeze yourself into. You do actually see Jimin after a moment of scoping, but her limbs are intertwined with Jisung’s in the mini gazebo, and you don’t really want to interrupt, so you just head back inside.

The music is extremely grating now, and you’ve eaten two slices of pizza and downed at least three glasses of different kinds of soda, so you also feel a little bloated and sleepy. Jeno hasn’t resurfaced either over the last hour or so, and you think it’s high time Renjun must be antsy to get home. The problem is that you can’t find him in the living room or the kitchen; you actually knock on the bathroom after gathering up some courage, but the female voice that answers that it’s occupied makes all that effort go down the drain.  

You trust Renjun wouldn’t leave without telling you, but you’re also not sure why he would be missing for this much time. The fact that you’re just standing by the food table while people pass by, say non-committal hellos, and leave with pizza slices in hand makes it even more uncomfortable. In the end, you decide to text Renjun to meet you back at your house and weave through the crowd to get to the door.  

There are still people outside, and while some are leaving, others are also talking or flirting, and you notice that these are more people that seem familiar but unfamiliar all at once. They all look a little older, too; a couple of guys are all wearing sweaters with the same obnoxiously large logo you’d seen on Taeyong and Jaehyun’s jackets, and it dawns on you that these people must be from the university level, hanging at a party away from younger kids. You scan the grass for Renjun, but you don’t see him anywhere either.  

What you do see is Jeno standing extremely close to a girl who’s wearing a similar university sweater. He has one hand around a cup, but his other hand is sandwiched between the girl’s palms. You can’t really discern his expression, but his brows look knitted, and his mouth, while open, doesn’t seem to be moving.  

You feel like you’ve seen this scene before, back at the dance where you had snapped upon seeing Lee Gyuwon and Jeno together, leaving poor Chenle behind. You’d only recently learned to laugh about that situation, so this one comes as both a painful reminder and an unfortunate addition of scenarios that made you extremely uncomfortable. You have to placate yourself with the reminder they just seem to be talking, even if they are standing really close to each other; nothing is actually happening, save for the fact that you can sometimes see Jeno’s hand gripping the cup in his hand a little tighter now and again.  

All of this just goes out the door when the girl leans in, pressing a hand to his chest, and kisses him.  

A voice inside your head tells you it’s frankly masochistic to keep staring at two people kissing when you like one of them, but you just stand there, rooted to the spot, watching the girl wrap an arm around Jeno’s neck. He pulls away after a while, and his mouth starts moving really quickly. His eyes dart around, like he’s watching for something, until they land on you, and his lips stop mid-speech. The scene gets blurrier, and you think you’re going to pass out for a second until you realize you’re just crying a little.  

Soft fingers wrap around your forearm, pulling you away gently. You think it might be Renjun, who’s finally found you after all that hullabaloo, but when you regain some sense, your attention focuses on Jaemin, who’s leading you back to your house. He’s doing so wordlessly, without even looking at you, and the noise of the party fades into an easily ignorable buzz once you reach your driveway. He stops you right at your front door, pausing a little before facing you with a small smile.  

The part of you that hates yourself the most tempts you to look back, to see if you can still glimpse Jeno from this far away; your head actually starts to turn, but Jaemin reacts quicker, trapping your face between his palms and keeping your head steadily towards him. His smile grows a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and his teeth don’t show like they usually do.  

“Hey. Just look at me first, okay?”  

“Um,” is the only thing you can say considering you’re not sure if he’s doing this randomly or for some unknown reason.  

“Your hair’s kind of a mess, you know that? Did you get in a fight, or something?”  

“No, I was just… you know, there were a lot of people, so I probably bumped into a few of them,” your voice sounds distant, but you’re glad to hear that it still works and that you can form something of a coherent sentence. Jaemin laughs softly.  

“Yeah, it did get kind of crowded back there.” He starts to gently put strands of hair back into place, but it’s clear he has no clue what he’s doing because he sighs and drops his hands to your shoulders after a minute. “Anyway, you seemed a little out of it, so I thought you might want to go home for a quick break. If you want to go back, though, we can.”  

“No,” you say quickly. “I was… actually just looking for Renjun. So we could leave quietly.”  

“Well, usually, if you’re leaving a party, you’re supposed to tell the host,” he chuckles softly. “But since I dragged you here, I guess it doesn’t apply.”  

You want to laugh, but all your body seems to want to do is produce tears; you can’t even understand why you want to cry, considering you and Jeno aren’t dating, and he’d made that extremely clear. You suppose that it had just seemed like all the events were leading up to you getting together, although you may have just been reading between the lines when you weren’t supposed to thanks to your endless bounty of personal delusion.  

Either way, you didn’t want to cry about it — especially not in front of his best friend, who probably thinks it’s pathetic enough that you’re hopelessly deluded. You inhale in an attempt to calm yourself down, but all it does it signal your body into letting out a soft sob. Jaemin doesn’t move, and his expression hardly changes, save for the fact that the smile is back to its unnaturally small state. He actually looks like he’s… sad? That doesn’t seem right, though; maybe it’s really more like he pities you, which you can’t even blame him for.  

Still, he gently raises his right hand again; this time, instead of attempting to fix your hair, he gently places his palm against your head. Then lifts it. Then places it back down again. Soon, you’re standing in your driveway, crying silently while the guy from next door is awkwardly patting your hair like you’re a wounded puppy. It doesn’t last more than five minutes, but it’s still a fairly embarrassing period of time, and you wipe at your eyes aggressively while he retracts his hand.  

“Kind of stupid, huh?” Your voice is thick and ugly. “Crying after a party.”  

“Crying after a party, yeah. Crying after seeing someone you like kiss someone else? Not stupid at all.”  

“So I didn’t hallucinate?” You sigh, hiccuping yourself into a slightly calmer state.

“No, unfortunately. I mean, Jeno is — anyway, it’s not really any of my business, I guess. Do you want me to look for Renjun back at my house, or something?”  

“No, it’s fine. I texted him that I was going home anyway, so he can just come find me when he sees it, I guess.” You feel like your voice is childishly sullen, and Jaemin must think so too, because his smile grows again, like he wants to laugh. “But… thanks for walking me home.”

“I almost dragged you home.”

“But I used my two feet,” you crack a smile, wiping away a stray tear that’s just fallen from your eyelashes. “So I still technically walked.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he agrees.

You both stand in front of your door, not moving; you’re not making eye contact either, but it doesn’t feel too uncomfortable. There are a ton of things you want to ask him, but all of your questions seem either too upsetting or too invasive, so you just stay quiet until Jaemin looks up again, focusing on something past your head.  

You turn to find Jeno approaching, and his eyes are flickering between you and Jaemin. His hands ball into fists for a second, like he’s steeling himself.  

Jaemin’s voice seems different when he talks again, and he’s not looking at you when he speaks. “I should get back home. See you, _______________.”

He brushes past Jeno, not looking back as he returns to the party. Jeno watches him go, making sure Jaemin’s past your property line before turning back to you.  

“You left so quickly,” is how he opens the conversation.  

“Oh. Yeah, it just got crowded. I lost Renjun, and I couldn’t eat anything more,” you explain lamely. “Sorry. I guess I should have told you.”  

“No, it’s — that’s totally fine. I just… I guess you really didn’t have a good time.”  

“I did; no, I totally did.” Up until a few minutes ago, you want to add, but there’s no way you would. Jeno nods, not really looking like he’s fairly interested in how much you enjoyed the party. “I found out I’m… pretty good beer pong, so that probably bumped my cool points, right?”  

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” he suddenly blurts out, skewing the conversation’s falsely casual atmosphere drastically towards a topic you were desperate to avoid. You stand in silence, fairly stunned, and Jeno looks like he’s about to burst completely, his words coming out a little too fast because he wants to say so much. “She used to go to our school. A year older. We broke up during her last year; she said she didn’t want anyone from her past tying her down in college. I mean — we — she — we were over. It was fine. But she showed up tonight, I guess since she heard from Jaemin’s brother that there was a party… I didn’t know. She never told me. We just — I guess she thought we could get back together, so we talked, and she kissed me. But we’re not. Back together, that is.”  

“Uh,” you say, once again at a loss for words. “Okay.”  

“It didn’t mean anything,” he starts to slow down, looking a little relieved that he’s gotten the crux of the story off his chest. “She was a little drunk before she got here. It was just a spur of the moment — no, sorry. It was just a mistake. That’s it.”  

“It’s… I mean, it’s… it’s fine?” It’s not, you know, but you don’t know what else to say considering it’s supposed to be fine to you. “She’s your ex-girlfriend. You’re bound to still have feelings for each other. Also—”

“We don’t,” he interrupts you. “We don’t have feelings for each other. I mean, I don’t. For her.”

“Okay, but I also don’t know why you’re telling me all of this.”  

“Because. Because I know you saw us outside.”  

“I did,” you admit, still feeling the uncomfortable pang of distress at recalling the sight. It seems to be triggering your fight or flight instinct because you’re taking slow steps back, but Jeno is just moving forward with you too. Even when you run out of space to step, he’s still advancing, eyes focused on you, like he’s watching for your expression. “And it’s your right to make out with your ex-girlfriend. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”  

“Doesn’t it?”  

“Does it?” You’re thoroughly confused now, and it looks like Jeno is too. “We’re just friends, aren’t we? We’re not really even that. My opinion on your relationships doesn’t really… matter.”  

“It does though. It does to me.”  

You fall silent, dumbfounded; your mind can’t decide on which feeling to focus on first, so you just stand there looking stupid. Jeno is standing really close to you now, and you can actually smell the fabric conditioner on his hoodie and the cologne that’s fading off from his skin. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You like me.”  

It’s not asked like a question, but he pauses like he’s waiting for you to respond. You’re too close to him to feel comfortable enough to lie and deny, plus the situation seems so intense that the thought of doing something wrong doesn’t even cross your mind. You nod, and he doesn’t even look the least bit surprised.

“I’m telling you all of this because I know you like me. Because I don’t want you to misunderstand something like that.”  

“It doesn’t matter, though,” your voice is also soft, less because you’re trying to be quiet and more because if you speak up, you’re afraid you might start crying again. “You don’t have to explain something like that to someone who likes you just because they like you. It shouldn’t be a concern.”  

“But I want to,” he says firmly. “I want to make sure you know — I’m really not with that girl. What happened back there — it didn’t mean anything.”  

“But why?”  

He reaches out, and the action feels eerily similar to Jaemin’s; his fingers idly toy with loose strands of hair, but it doesn’t feel laden with the motive of comforting. Instead, his hand skims down the side of your face gently, stopping just below your jaw. You wonder if he’s noticed you’ve stopped breathing, but if he has, he doesn’t make it obvious. His thumb extends away from his hand, lightly tracing the height of your cheekbone.  

“Because I don’t want something like this to push you away from me,” he murmurs. “Because I want you to like me. Just me.”  

[anarinya]

“Two paces back, face to the stone but with a foot forward and one behind,” Anarion stood as he thus explained, focused, gesturing along invisible lines of sight in his mind’s eye as he slowly dancer-stepped around the circumference of the Palantir situated before him. At first it was dormant, a mildly iridescent sphere of stone that sat upon a haphazardly constructed pedestal of boxes and a small cushion. 

However, Anarion paused in his walk, standing up straighter from his usual sloping posture, and he seemed to catch the sight he had been looking for. “You must simply bend your mind’s eye to the stone and it will recognise your intent.” In a moment, the stone transformed. The layers of translucent but coloured mineral seemed to illuminate until the whole thing appeared like glass, the sky clear and visible through it like a window. Anarion did not appear to do anything, and yet the vision through the stone changed, travelling forward along Anarion’s line of sight, at times tilting side to side or up and down. Distant images of trees, water, plains and buildings flew by for a moment until Anarion spoke again. 

“Whatever might be in the path of your gaze, the Palantiri can show you. It’s sight will pass through any barrier, even stone, but darkness will blind it as surely as it does a man.” He shifted on his feet minutely to the left and the vision swung with him, coming to rest suddenly upon the small image of a sprawling yet triangular city set upon the shores of a river so wide one bank could not be seen when standing upon the other. 

“One might travel along their path of sight until they reach the edge of the world, the Palantir can show you this much with ease, it is it’s natural use. True skill comes into play when trying to narrow your view and close in upon something small.” The concentration it took was visible, but with a gradual magnifying, the belltower in Pelargir’s drydock slowly sharpened in detail and grew closer and closer until eventually the runes carved into the detailed patterns in it’s brass became readable ‘Erukyermë, Erulaitalë, Eruhantalë’.

Anarion released a soft breath of exertion through his nose, but nodded to himself as if to accept the outcome. 

Open-starter

[belphies-wife]

What Naps Are Like With Them (Everyone)

In celebration of my first post kinda blowing up, I wrote a little something for all the characters, including Luke! (platonically for him, of course)

Again, thank you guys for all the love on my Satan Reacting to Montero fic <3 I’ll be working on requests after this.

Also, no beta we die like Lilith.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Lucifer

➼ Never sleeps, e v e r

➼ His brothers would destroy the House of Lamentation in his sleep

➼Took a while to convince him to take a nap with you because of this

➼ His brothers listen to you more than they listen to their older brother, so you begged them to behave for a few hours so that their older brother can rest for once

➼ You will��use your pact if you have to, just please let this man sleep

➼ You made sure to pick a day where you know Lucifer hadn’t slept the night before due to his workload

➼ Seriously, you had to talk to Diavolo about that

➼ You both got into your comfiest pajamas and played some soft classical music for ultimate relaxation

➼ You thought about taking a picture of hm while he slept

➼ He saw it coming and had you sleep facing away from him with his arms wrapped around you so you couldn’t turn around

➼ Smart bastard

➼  If you complain about it he’ll laugh at you

➼ Hey, at least you get cuddles

➼ Luci here looks so calm and peaceful while he sleeps, it’s adorable

➼ No wonder everyone tries to take a picture of him sleeping

➼ He’s a heavy sleeper, so you end up having to wake him up after a few hours

➼ He thanks you

➼ He’s well-rested and in a good mood for the rest of the day

➼ His brothers obviously take advantage of that

»»————-　♔　————-««

Mammon

➼ Unlike most of his brothers, he actually has a decent sleep schedule (most of the time)

➼ However, if you wanted to take a nap with him, he wouldn’t say no

➼ Well, he’d say no, but then say yes immediately after

➼ “Whaddya mean you wanna take a nap with me? Do I look like Belphie!?”

➼ Blushing like crazy while complaining, as usual

➼ “Fine, I’ll go nap with him, then.”

➼ “Oi! Come back here! I changed my mind, I wanna take a nap!”

➼ Tsundere baby

➼ Obviously, you tease him about it

➼ “Jealous, huh? I thought that was Levi’s thing.”

“Shut up! Are we gonna cuddle or not?”

“I said nap, not cuddle.”

➼ Cue the pout

➼ The definition of the 🥺 face

➼ Please love this child

➼ “I’m kidding, of course we’re gonna cuddle.”

➼ Usually a little spoon

➼ Unless he’s in a jealous mood

➼ If he is, he will hold on to you like his life depends on it.

➼ More teasing, obviously

➼ If you think about it, Greed and Envy are very similar

➼ Poor baby wants love

➼ New drinking game: take a shot every time I call Mammon a baby

➼ I shot of water, I know you’re dehydrated

➼ Anyways, naps with Mammon = cuddles

➼ Either you’re holding him to you or he’s holding you to him

➼ f o r e h e a d  k i s s e s

➼ Mammon gets nightmares about what happened with Belphie sometimes, so lots of comfort cuddles

»»————-　♔　————-««

Leviathan

➼ “Levi, did you sleep at all last night?”

➼ Obviously not

➼ He was up all night binge watching the latest season of “The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demo Girl”’s  spin-off series

➼ Why would you even ask?

➼ “Levi, did you stay up all night?”

➼ He looked away, a little embarrassed. “Uh, yeah.”

➼ “Levi, honey. You need to sleep. It’s not good for your health to be staying up so late.”

➼ Leviathan.exe has stopped working

➼ You’re worrying about him?????

➼ And you’re calling him honey?????

➼ Are you trying to kill him?????

➼ “You must be exhausted. Wanna take a nap?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. I guess I could use a nap.”

“Alright. We should go to my room, since there’s more room on my bed than in your tub.”

➼ Wait you meant a nap together????

➼ You’re really trying to kill him.

➼ Usually, he’d make fun of you and call you a normie.

➼ But he was currently too busy dying.

➼ If somehow you managed to resurrect him and get him to your room to nap, then you’d know this shy boi is a little spoon.

➼ Does this really come as a surprise to anyone? It shouldn’t.

➼ He’s blushing like crazy the whole time.

➼ “Levi, if you can't sleep with me here, I can leave.”

“No!”

➼ He does sleep eventually.

➼ Sweet baby cuddles you in his sleep.

➼ Wholesome af

»»————-　♔　————-««

Satan

➼ As the most responsible one in the family, he has a pretty good sleep schedule, so he doesn’t normally take naps.

➼ However, if you ask him to, he’ll agree. 

➼ If it makes you happy he’ll do it <3

➼ He’s not really touchy-feely and won’t initiate any cuddling.

➼ Dude that you asked to nap because you were tired and wanted to sleep.

➼ Nah bro, you just want cuddles.

➼ While he won’t initiate any cuddles, if you make it more obvious that you want some, he’ll give them to you.

➼ Big spoon

➼ If you want him to be the small spoon, he will, but he’ll be flustered af.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Asmodeus

➼ “Asmo, wanna sleep together?”

➼ Could you have made a poorer word choice?

➼ No, you could not.

➼ This boy literally made the lenny face.

➼ “Asmo, I meant a nap.”

“Well, I suppose that’ll satisfy me for now.”

➼ You then proceeded to smack him with a pillow.

“Hey! Don’t mess up my hair!”

➼ You had to wait for him to take off his makeup and change his clothes and stuff.

➼ It’s a process.

➼ Cuddle’s tf out of you.

➼ He’ll be the big spoon or the little spoon. It doesn’t matter to him, so you can decide.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Beelzebub

➼ Takes naps with Belphie a lot and thought it was cute that you also wanted to nap.

➼ Pre-nap snack first, though.

➼ Then he’s ready.

➼ Sweet boi will enjoy the nap whether he’s a big spoon or little spoon.

➼ If you’re happy, he’s happy <3

➼ You kiss his face a lot.

➼ He thinks you’re the cutest little human ever when you do that.

➼ I’d say soft Beel, but when is he ever not soft?

➼ Not counting the custard incident

➼ He Likes to kiss the top of your head while you sleep.

➼ He definitely snores.

➼ It takes some getting used to, but you’re not gonna let keep you from cuddling your big boi.

➼ It honestly feels really safe and comforting to just be wrapped up in his arms.

➼ Equally comforting to have his head resting against you.

➼ Overall just really soft.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Belphegor

➼ You don’t even need to ask. He’s the king of naps.

➼ Being around Belphie for an extended period of time makes you sleepy.

➼ You’re not sure if it’s because he’s sleep or if it’s because he has some sort of sleep-power.

➼ Any time you cuddle you end up taking a nap.

➼ Do I even have to say it?

➼ S m a l l  s p o o n

➼ The smallest spoon.

➼ As the youngest, he’s the most spoiled, so he’s really really clingy and just expects you to drop whatever you’re doing at any given time to nap with him.

➼ I mean, you’d probably do it even if he didn’t expect you to.

➼ He does this adorable thing when he’s sleepy and he sees you nearby where he’ll go up to you and wrap his arms around you and rest his head against your shoulder and just say “Sleep, please.”

➼ You will stop whatever you’re doing no matter what and go up to the attic to nap with him.

➼ Not an exaggeration. It’s happened while Lucifer was talking to you before he he was p i s s e d.

➼ It was obviously intentional

➼ But how can you say no to his cute face?

➼ He seems to be able to keep you from having nightmares and you sleep 100x better with him than on your own

➼ Softest boi

»»————-　♔　————-««

Simeon

➼ While he may dress like a stripper, this man is an angel and is pure™

➼ Anything you want, you’ll get. How can he ever deny you a thing?

➼ He can’t.

➼ You want naps? You get naps.

➼ You want cuddles? You get cuddles.

➼ You want sleepy kisses? You get sleepy kisses.

➼ Hotel? Trivago.

➼ But seriously, sleepy kisses are definitely a thing.

➼ Especially forehead kisses.

➼ Big spoon. He likes to hold you.

➼ Sweet boy loves you so much 🥺

»»————-　♔　————-««

Luke (Platonically)

➼ Purgatory Hall has weekly movie nights, and they invite you over a lot to join them.

➼ You and Solomon have a very long list of human world movies you want Simeon to watch, but the poor man can’t figure out how Devilflix works for the life of him, so group movie nights are the only way.

➼ Not that any of you mind, of course.

➼ Luke begged Simeon to let him join you guys (he has a pretty strict bedtime)

➼ Simeon lets him occasionally if the movie is appropriate.

➼ Luke insisted on sitting next to you and sharing any treats he made that day.

➼ Poor baby ended up falling asleep not even halfway through the movie.

➼ Solomon obviously made fun of him.

➼ “Looks like it’s naptime for the little chihuahua.”

“Don’t tease him!” You say, defending Luke.

➼ At some point, Luke shifts so that he’s leaning against you in his sleep.

➼ You coo at how cute the ‘lil cherub looks.

➼ Aaaand then you proceed to fall asleep as well.

➼ You woke up the next day still on the couch. You were pretty confused since Simeon usually carries anyone who falls asleep to their bed (or the guest room, in your case).

➼ Then you realize Luke still asleep and wrapped around you.

➼ HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS BABY EVER

➼ You assumed Simeon didn’t want to attempt moving one of you and risk waking the other so he just left you too

➼ Whatever it was, you went back to sleep with the little cherub snuggling you

»»————-　♔　————-««

Solomon

➼ Purgatory Hall sleepover!

➼ Everyone had already fallen asleep, so you asked Solomon if he’d be alright with you two sleeping together.

➼ Not a good idea.

➼ You’re both settled in his bed and you’re about to drift off to sleep when this silly little sorcerer decided to tickle you.

➼ You  s h r e i k

➼ “Solomon!”

➼ “Keep your voice down, dear. You wouldn’t want Simeon hearing and getting the wrong idea, now. Would you?”

➼ The  s m a c c  you gave him though-

➼ “Can I sleep now, or are you gonna keep bothering me?”

“You know you love me.” He grinned.

“Well, duh. But I also love sleep.”

➼ He does let you sleep after that.

➼ You fall asleep first, and one look at your sleeping face and he falls in love with you all over again.

➼ You’re so  p r e c i o u s.

➼ He held you close to him as you slept, pressing soft, featherlight kisses against our forehead and nose, careful not to wake you.

➼ He’s a bitch until you fall asleep, pretty much.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Diavolo

➼ It wasn’t intentional for you to fall asleep, really.

➼ You’d had a long day, and you had been sitting with the demon prince at his palace as he told you about his day over a cup of tea.

➼ It wasn’t like what he was saying was boring.

➼ No, it’s just that you were so tired, and the sofa you were sitting on was so comfy, and Diavolo was talking so much.

➼ It didn’t help that the tea that Barbatos had prepared was especially soothing.

➼ You couldn’t help yourself. You dozed off.

➼ Diavolo continued talking, and probably would’ve gone on for a long while without even noticing if Barbatos hadn’t cleared his throat and gestured towards your sleeping form.

➼ If it had been anyone else, he would have deemed it disrespectful. 

➼ But it was you, and he had realized a long time ago that he was incapable of being upset with you.

➼ “It seems they’ve had a tiring day, my Lord. I suggest you let them rest.” Said Barbatos.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of disturbing them.” Carefully, he made his way over to you and pried the teacup from our hands so that you didn’t move and break it in your sleep.

➼ Then, he removed his suit jacket and draped it over you like a blanket.

➼ Not gonna lie, even Barbatos was a bit shooketh. 

➼ He didn’t say anything, though.

➼ Diavolo kissed your forehead lightly and had Barbatos bring him the last of his paperwork for the day, which he finished quickly while remaining by your side.

➼ After that he picked up our still sleeping form and brought you to his room where he tucked you in.

➼ He sent Lucifer a text saying that you would be staying the night at the palace then went to sleep after answering a few emails.

➼ He snores loudly, but you somehow managed to sleep through it.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Barbatos

➼ Diavolo set up another palace retreat (because I said so)

➼ You had been assigned a room with Luke and Beelzebub that time.

➼ It went good at first, and everyone was sent off to sleep at around 10 p.m.

➼ At some point in the middle of the night, you awoke from a particularly nasty nightmare.

➼ You were more scared than usual when you woke up, since the room you were in was not your room at the House of Lamentation.

➼ It took a while for you to realize where you were and calm down, but even then you were to afraid to sleep.

➼ Slowly, you exited the room, careful not to disturb Luke and Beel.

➼ You made your way to Barbatos’ room and knocked softly.

➼ Briefly, you wondered if he was asleep, but then he opened the door.

➼ You silently panicked when you realized your hair was a mess and your clothing was rumpled from sleep, but your disheveled appearance didn’t seem to faze him.

➼ “Hello. I was just about to prepare for bed. Is something the matter?”

➼ Suddenly, you felt very, very silly to come to such an ancient, powerful being for help with a little nightmare.

➼ “Sorry, it’s nothing. I apologize for bothering you. I’ll leave.” You said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“You never bother me, my dear. Would you like to come in?” He asked, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

“Yes. I would like that.”

“Is something bothering you?”

You blushed. “I had a nightmare. I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. I know, it’s silly.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Can I... Can I stay here with you tonight?”

“If it would make you feel better, you may.”

➼ Barbatos tucked you in then sat next to you, gently running his hands through your hair. He began singing an old song in some ancient, forgotten language. His voice was soft and soothing as he sang, and you found yourself unable to stay awake even if you tried.

➼ “Goodnight, my dear.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Thank you so much for reading!

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[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[moomoomooing]

moomoo’s landing

I’m Kai! I draw :D

I draw for whatever im interested in! Currently thats Twisted Wonderland and Seventeen~ I also draw lots of oc/ original artwork as well.

This is a SFW blog: I will never post or rb full NSFW content, suggestive art will be cropped and the full piece under a cut. If I happen to draw NSFW, again I will post a sfw crop of it here, and there will be a link to a separate site with the full image.

This blog also contains spoilers for any of the fandoms I’m in. I won’t tag anything as spoilers unless I’m talking about it within 3-ish days of it’s release, so be warned!

(Important info from below- my DM’s are open to mutuals only! If you want to chat but we aren’t mutuals, use my ask box. Art requests are only open when I make an announcement for it. If one’s going on, that announcement will be my pinned post.)

This is a side blog I use as a main! Any followbacks will come from @kaiikko.

KYUU SCARLET (OC/Sona, he/him pronouns)

(info card is a work in progress!)

Kyuu's UM (writing)

Kyuu and why he’s in NRC (writing)

A Lion’s Warmth (writing)

A Pair of New Ears (writing)

spiraling down into your arms (writing)

Camp Vargas Card

Halloween Card

ADONIS BEAU (OC, he/him pronouns)

(info card is a work in progress!)

Reference

YUU (OC, he/they pronouns)

(info card is a work in progress!)

Old Yuu reference

COMMISSIONS OPEN 

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want to know more? more info below!

I go by Kai and use any pronouns! I’m bi and idk what gender I am but I go with whatever feels best at the mo’ (I will pretty much never disclose my age here as I’m not comfortable doing that.)

I don’t interact too much with others because of anxiety -v-;;; but I’m doing my best to change that! I love it when people send me asks, for request, ask games, or just to chat is lovely!

As you can tell- I draw! I’ve been drawing as a hobby for most of my life, but I’ve recently been trying to get into a career for it! I have two cats, Prince and Mochi, that I may sometimes post www~ I tend to say some unhinged things every now n’ then so... uh be warned? I also love hearing people ramble about things, so my dm’s are always open to mutuals~

Twst favs! Leona Kingscholar (i can’t even explain why I adore him so much.) Ruggie Bucchi, Jade Leech

Cookie Run favs! Red Velvet Cookie, Pastry Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie

I used to be in Genshin (I recently quit) but heres my favs anyways- Chongyun, Shenhe, Diluc, Scaramouche, Jean

Genshin Mains Jean, Zhongli, Ayato, Chongyun, Shenhe

Other games I like: Professor Layton, Nonary Games (I’ve only played the first so far), Bloodborne (never played, only watched), Hades, For The King, Inscryption, Pokemon, Stardew Valley, Monster Hunter World, Monster Hunter Rise, Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion, Outer Wilds

(I watch RTgame almost exclusively so lots of my game’s come from him, or game’s I play with friends.)

REQUESTS:

- Again feel free to chat with my anytime you’d like! I don’t take art requests unless it’s from mutuals. Art requests will only open for events or for small 1-3 hours long periods when I feel like it. If you don’t wanna miss them try to keep updated with my posts, I don’t do anything special for spur of the moment requests.

COMISSIONS:

- My comms are open! See my ko-fi for details and consider supporting me! New commission options might open or more things might pop up on my shop so check in regularly! I also have a Redbubble shop should you wanna buy and of my past doodles. Don’t see one you like? Just DM me and I’ll put it up for you

TAGS:

Art tag: #moomoos doodles

Asks tag: #moomoos talks (looking for a specific ask? I put the blog name in my asks)

Writing tag: #moomoos writes

ART TECH INFO:

XP-PEN Artist 12 Pro, Clip Studio Paint Pro, Procreate on iPad

I usually work on a 1600 by 1920 px canvas, or a square 1000 by 1000 px canvas

I’ll add more here as I go~!

[kradogsrats]

Rewatch Shitposts: S3, Ep 5-9

OKAY HOME STRETCH

v.

“I am the senate law”

SOREN, my baby

HAY HAY HAY HAY HAY

Soren like “and you all said CHA was a dump stat lmao”

“You are okay, right?” Claudia I can 110% assure you he is absolutely not okay and has not been for quite a while

Oh fuck, that “everything’s going to be okay, Dad” is very relevant to some of my current interests. I must have subconsciously remembered it.

Not shown: how Soren explains why he’s going back into the castle with his wagon of hay for the hungry, hungry horses still full

Pretty sure this ambler chase is a Breath of the Wild boss fight

ngl I do enjoy a good fictional fascist motivational speech

of course it’s a bit ruined because all I can hear at the end is “YOU are the weakest link, GOODBYE”

the smollest loaf of bread omg

Nyx like “I’ll just be sending you my matchmaker fee later, yeah?”

vi.

Aaravos: “you killed Avizandum”, Viren: “how dare you! …so who the fuck is that”

Ah, there we go with the last breath

Okay, so the unicorn horn can’t be in Puzzle House, because Claudia only got it right before Thunder was killed? Well, then I’m again no longer sure where they’re going with that. Unless it’s “Claudia meets the last unicorn as a child, then comes back for its horn ten years later.”

Appreciate Kasef’s “Wingarduim Levio-SAH” moment

… Horse girl Aaravos

Claudia really is behind literally every spell in this story isn’t she

vii.

Zubeia dying of a broken heart, as is traditional for cartoon mothers and also Padme Amidala

OH, Claudia DOES see adoraburrs, and it is perfection

Ah, the “Aaravos, no” “Aaravos YES” conversation

Basically Aaravos realizing that subtlety is absolutely not required at this point, thank you Viren

Shoutout to the multiple fanfics carefully describing thicc wormvaros crawling down Viren’s throat to be smuggled into Lux Aurea, that also is just gonna live rent-free in my head forever

“No, Mister Bond… I expect you to die”

If you haven’t read the ToX sourcebook adventure about the corrupted Sunforge as nuclear meltdown allegory, highly recommend because it’s actually pretty funny?

Kasef thinking he’s being the hero everyone needs…

Ibis a fucking hottie tbh

viii.

Ten days ago is what… when Zubeia would have received Runaan’s message? ... that is a joke about the series’ compressed timeline, I know that s1ep1 was longer ago than that.

Soren: “you may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like”

Love Calllum’s noodle arm during that fulminis cast

Scouting from the sky is not super useful when you’re above the cloud layer

Viren: /gets roundhouse-kicked doen a flight of stairs, literally bouncing the entire way down, me: … AND THEN HE DIED

Where was Zubeia, anyway? Postpartum spa day?

Soren really nailing it here

I know exactly enough ASL to see Callum spell “Rayla” and then do “friend”

ix.

Huh, I think Rayla just introduced two recaps in a row?

“transcend the limits of your human form” is usually a bad idea in this kind of context, just saying

I feel like it cannot be overstated how much LotR clearly influenced this initial battle choreography, but y’know what? Fair.

”I got more wind where that came from” is such a tragedy of a missed fart joke opportunity, but someone probably thought it was a mood-killer

Aanya just straight-up shoots a dude to death, demonstrating that she is, in fact, this show’s single biggest badass

Fire damage immunity a questionable trade-off for critical weakness to piercing

”We would have been here earlier, but we had to stop and make these sick battle standards”

Viren just… carries the coins everywhere, then? okay

Ah… of course. I see now what’s happening, here. (tbh it should have been obvious)

… and then he ACTUALLY died, despite there being no stairs involved(?)

Hmmm, Janai and the other Sunfire elves doing the human gesture of respect for the human king

I wonder if Zym will have a voice for s4?

/falls face down on the floor and just lies there

[spanishskulduggery]

Do you know of any fossil words in Spanish, words that used to be common but fell out of use and are now only preserved in idioms? I tried looking on Google but all the results were English-only examples

I'll try and think of some others but here are the ones that come to mind; and I’m not sure all of these will be what you’re looking for.

si fuere menester = "in the event of" el menester used to be fairly common especially in the Medieval period, where it was another word for "need" or "necessity". Today you only see menester in si fuere menester which is an unusual construction as it is, since fuere is the future subjunctive - which is an obsolete tense - and so it literally means "should it be necessary". This expression only now shows up in contracts and legal contexts normally as "in the event of"

donde fueres haz lo que vieres = "when in Rome... (do as the Romans do)" Again, this is future subjunctive; literally "wherever you go, do what you see".. but in a more obtuse future subjunctive way "wherever you should happen to go, do whatever you may happen to see"

la urdimbre y trama = "warp and weft" The idea of this is related to "weaving", and though this phrase is rather antiquated or particular, it occasionally shows up as something like la urdimbre y trama de la sociedad or something where that's "the fabric of society". It's not the way you say that so much now [el tejido or la tela are more common], but urdir "to warp" was related to working a loom. You still do use tramar but it's not often that you see it related to weaving anymore... tramar is "to plot" or "to hatch a scheme", but you can see how "weaving" would go into "plotting"

so pena de = "under pain of" You don't often see so used in Spanish today, since it's a more direct link to Latin and Italian. And today la pena rarely means "pain" in the physical sense, it usually means "sorrow" or "anguish"... but again in legal cases, so pena de muerte is "under pain/penalty of death"

a diestra y siniestra = "all over the place" This expression literally means "to the right and left". The word diestro/a is still "right-handed" (also means "skillful" or "dexterous"), but siniestro/a used to mean "left-handed"... the idea that the left hand was more evil and "sinister", and "under-handed". In older contexts, siniestro/a means "left-handed", but in modern contexts you say zurdo/a for "left-handed"

al tuntún = "impromptu", "improvise", "on the fly", "by ear" This expression is derived from Latin, ad vultum tuum which is literally "to your face" in Latin. You never see tuntún anymore unless something is done al tuntún but it might be more regional; it just means you're making it up as you go

dormir como un ceporro = "to sleep like a log" Most people today say dormir como un tronco which is the same idea; el ceporro is a variation but it's extremely unusual to see it. Most people will use tronco if they have to

tuerto/a = one-eyed I'm actually not sure if people use tuerto/a still, since there are other ways to say "blind in one eye" or "one-eyed". In older Spanish, tuerto could show up as a "grievance", but in the expression en el reino de ciegos el tuerto es rey is still used sometimes, literally "in the kingdom of blind people, the one-eyed man is the king"

(el) haba = bean [technically haba is feminine] Not common to see el haba used much anymore except in certain contexts, and it's the root of la habichuela "bean". In Spain, sometimes haba is "idiot" so if you see el tonto del haba it's like "the biggest idiot that ever lived"

Vuestra Merced = "Your Lordship/Ladyship" This is the original form of it, but it eventually turned into usted "you" used for polite things. The title was Vuestra Merced and it was how you addressed someone without knowing their title, so it became very polite. In older Spanish you'd abbreviate it as Vd. which eventually became Ud. as the abbreviation for usted. Keep in mind that at a certain point in time, Spanish wrote the U sound as a V, and it followed more of the Latin pronunciation where the V had a softer U/W sound at times. Outside of Spain and works set in older time periods, you're unlikely to use vuestro/a - it even became informal plural "you all" in Spain - but you rarely ever see merced used. Chances are you're only going to see it was vuestra in front of it. But just know that vos has a very different meaning today than it did in the Middle Ages

meter/sembrar cizaña = "to sow discord" You're never going to see cizaña used in any other context unless you happen upon some botanical book. The literal translation is "darnel" which is sometimes called "false wheat"; basically la cizaña looks like trigo "wheat", and it grows close to wheat but it often has a fungus that's poisonous so you need to separate it. The idea behind it is that if you're deliberately planting cizaña you're actively trying to poison someone or make things worse

la celestina = "a go-between, a mediator" This word comes directly from La Celestina a novel written in Spain's Golden Age by Fernando de Rojas. In it there's a woman named Celestina who sets up meetings between women living in convents (who weren't always nuns) and men; acting as a go-between and chaperone for love affairs basically. The term was also la alcahueta but became celestina after the character in the book. Certain characters in literature are considered celestinas like the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet; basically the girl/woman can't risk her reputation so she has her maid or chaperone working to arrange things, and they're often the catalyst for things going wrong. In other contexts, celestina or una alcahueta is a "pimp" or "madame", or sometimes "a gossip"

pardo/a = brown, brownish-gray Today you’re only really going to see pardo/a used with animals. Specifically, el oso pardo is a “grizzly bear”, and pardo/a can be used with horses as “dun”. I don’t know if “grizzly bear” counts as an expression but anyway. In older Spanish pardo/a was another word for “brown” when it came to people too. Today, if you’re describing hair color as “brown/brunette” you’re using castaño which is literally “chestnut”, either castaño claro “light brown” or castaño oscuro “dark brown”. When it comes to things that are brown, the typical word is now marrón or sometimes you see it as color café which is “coffee-colored”

ser un caco = to be a thief Not commonly used as ladrón, ladrona “thief”, but un caco literally means “a Cacus”. Basically, Cacus was a mythological figure who stole some cattle and Hercules killed him. In some places people use un caco to mean “thief” as a euphemism

la Parca = the Grim Reaper Orginally, las Parcas were the Parcae in Roman (originally Greek) mythology. They were the sisters of fate who would measure someone’s life and eventually cut the thread. Today, it’s just one Parca and it’s typically a male figure, skeletal, with a scythe as the “Grim Reaper”, rather than it being a woman with scissors. That’s because during the Plague, people thought of Death as being a skeletal figure that held a scythe, the symbol for “reaping” wheat that was ripe.

manjar de los dioses = “nectar of the gods” / a delicacy el manjar is used in some places in certain contexts but it originally came from Italian as “food” or something “to eat”. Today, manjar is usually a “snack”, or in some cases it’s dulce de leche, but most of the Spanish-speaking world doesn’t use manjar so much. It is sometimes “delicacy”, but in older contexts it was code for “ambrosia”, the thing that the Greek gods couldn’t get enough of. The world manjar still feels very antiquated to me, but when it’s used it’s some kind of good food or eating a lot of food

valer un potosí = “to be worth a fortune” un potosí is pretty antiquated, but it came from the city Potosí in Bolivia which was famous for its silver mines that the conquistadores exploited. There are still some places that will use potosí as “something of great value”, though it’s not so common anymore unless you’re talking about the actual city.

moros y cristianos = “beans and rice” Usually it’s black beans and white rice, though this is literally “Moors and Christians”. You still use cristiano/a today but typically you only use moro/a in a historical sense

Also there’s the expression más sordo/a que una tapia where it means someone is really hard of hearing; literally “as deaf as a garden wall”, but I’ve never seen people use tapia ...only a muro or a cerca as “wall” or “fence”. The idea of tapiar is related to “mortar” and “masonry”

There are also some expressions related to metal and older words for it. For example, saturnino/a is an older word for “gloomy”, though it now refers to “lead-poisoning”. Saturn was linked to “moodiness” in alchemical society, and the symbol for Saturn was the older symbol for “lead”. 

This is similar to how áureo/a is “gold” but also linked to the “sun” because the Sun and gold are linked.

Another is el azogue which is the older word for mercury so it’d be “quicksilver”. You may see azogarse in some texts where it means “to be fidgetty” and it’s related both to mercury-poisoning, and probably to the idea of Mercury/Hermes being the messenger god so always on the move. 

There is also hidalgo/a which doesn’t have quite the same meaning it did originally. Today, hidalgo/a is sort of like “having noble blood”. It literally means “son of something/someone”, where originally in Spain hidalgos were the children of nobles - specifically, it tended to refer to the children of nobles who weren’t the firstborn male. Firstborn sons often got about 2/3 of the money and were expected to run the estates. The second or third or fourth children were usually on their own. It became a running joke that the firstborn became the lord, and the others would either join the army or the clergy. In Cervantes’s time, hidalgos could be among the poorest of society, even poorer than slaves in some cases. They were still “noble” in terms of blood though, and hidalgos couldn’t be tortured by the Inquisition because of it. So they were afforded certain rights, but usually tended to be poor or lower than you’d expect a noble to be. Today it just means “of nobility”, but in Cervantes’s time a hidalgo was the symbol of Spain under the Holy Roman Empire - wealthy and noble and glorious in theory, much poorer in reality.

I'd also add the phrases levar ancla "to raise anchor" or "anchors aweigh/away", where levar is rarely used today aside from nautical terms. Similarly, izar la bandera is "to hoist the flag"... not a lot of chances to use izar if it's not related to "flags" or la vela "a sail"

I also would say errar is less common today in Spanish. It's still used, but you normally say cometer un error "to make a mistake". Still, errar es humano, perdonar es divino "to err is human, to forgive divine". Also errar is weirdly irregular at times, it turns into yerro as present tense yo

And I’m also going to include when la manzana means a “city block”. Today manzana is not rare, it means “apple”. But manzana as a “city block” was originally mansana where it meant a “collection of manses/houses arranged in a block on a grid”. So there’s that. If you ever see manzana used for blocks in a city, it’s technically a separate word

Also depending on context el mar “sea” will be la mar with the feminine article. That’s usually more particular, usually meaning “open water” or deeper waters like alta mar “high seas”. The more poetic or open the water is, the more likely it is to be feminine, and so la mar isn’t quite so antiquated but it’s a little special