#At least two golden plaques

[nailoarien]

Maybe one day I'll find the courage to finish this portrait. But while I don't, you guys can have our Lord and Savior Cale Henituse in his military uniform.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲… || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ As a punishment for helping Coriolanus to cheat on the games, you’re sent to serve as a nurse in District 12 for the summer. He had to choose between Lucy Gray and you. He just needed a reason to pick you, luckily the songbird gave him one in time before you were gone. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ evil nurse!reader x peacekeeper!Coryo, very slight canon divergence, jealousy, sexism, stalking, nudity, reader is a little crazy and evil, you can’t trust her feelings, angst, beef with Lucy Gray (I <3 her irl), blowjob lol, buzzcut!Coryo fucks reader in the lake so MDNI 18+, this is so fucked up tbh. 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ reader is mentally unreliable. Song of course is liability, I know it won’t work, Will you cry? And buzzcut season lol. All in my playlist, It’s the worst and will disappoint you.

♪ ♫ The worst playlist 4 Coriolanus Snow ✰ Index (+ fics here)

____________________________________________

You’ve made big mistakes.

You accept it looking at the lake, ripping the delicate petals of a wildflower. Having to say goodbye to your summer vacations after graduation was fair. Your parents convinced Dr.Gaul to have some mercy on you. You wanted to die when they convinced her that you did it because you were a girl in love. You helped Coriolanus to find the aisle where the snake's tank was going to be picked up.

You were so in love that you only wanted to help your lover. Coriolanus was far from being your lover. You heard him countless times making fun of you. And you still helped him because your good heart wanted to see him winning the prize.

And what did you get? Serving as a nurse in the worst district for the whole summer.

It’s been two weeks. And the only good thing is the evening, where you like to kill time alone, in the silent woods. The moment to breathe and realize how naïve you had been. You deal with the damage Coriolanus had done to you. And the worst part is that he couldn’t care less. He only had eyes for his songbird after all.

And that’s what boiled your blood. That it was her and not you.

There’s already a little pile of dry flowers around you, from all the previous days you were at the same position as now. The days passed and you weren’t ready to let go. You needed to find a way to forget about him. “Damn it…” you whisper, cringing at all the memories, rage invading you, violently throwing the flower in your hands and wiping away the tears.

When you return to the medical aisle, you need to pass by the military camp. You were obviously a Capitol girl. Anyone with a golden watch and lip tint was. Since day one, many peacekeepers have asked you out. They wanted to spend the night with you. But you weren’t in the mood to lose your virginity yet. You were stressed, angry, embarrassed, but you tried to put your best face.

“Y/N! IS THAT YOU?” You turn confused. Only to find Sejanus Plinth. It genuinely made you smile seeing him.

“Sejanus? What are you doing here?” You ask for a hug. His hair had to be gone, he had the peacekeeper uniform. You were extremely confused.

“The real question is what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.

“Coriolanus. He cheated on the games.” He sighs, nodding.

“I know. He’s here too.” Your eyes widen. He notices you are uncomfortable.

“Well, I helped him, and Dr. Gaul punished me to serve here for the summer” Sejanus seems surprised to hear it. He sees your nurse uniform, noticing the silver plaque attached in your chest. He knew women of the military with that plaque were on a higher range. In your case, probably because your father paid for you to have some commodities.

“At least you’re here” you add.

Sejanus knew you weren’t on good terms with Coryo. The boy asked for you on the train. But Sejanus hadn’t heard from you. Which apparently left Coriolanus slightly disappointed.

“Yeah. I’m here… we’ll have a good time. Promise” honestly, you were relieved to see him. But just by remembering that Coriolanus was also near you, it made you wish you were still alone.

“Any plans for tonight?” He asks, smiling.

You only had three friends. All girls from District 1 and 2. They were serving just because they were kind and wanted higher chances to get into University. They comforted you and Fridays were for two things. Going to the most famous bar, where Lucy Gray performed. Or going to a secret and elegant club for people with enough status.

“On downtown’s Main Street. A block to the left, the second alley. Tell the guy at the entrance you know me. Use my full name” your friend giggles, slowly moving away.

“You’re unbelievable” as you go back to your private room with your new friends. You can only think of how to avoid encountering Coriolanus for the rest of the summer.

It was enough for him. You wouldn’t even breathe near him. It was you, always offering subtle love. And he gave nothing back.

…

Lucy Gray was such a warm and sweet girl. Her dress with flowers and detailed boots added something to her performance.

Her voice was hypnotizing, her smile so pure and her hair so soft. It was the third night Coriolanus watched her perform. He smiled, drinking something. It was a humble bar, but the most famous one. He looked around looking for Sejanus. Last night he never appeared either. Coriolanus was growing worried, noticing his friend was starting to contemplate rebellious acts to help the people. Always trying to be the hero. As Lucy Gray finished her song, Sejanus appeared. A big smile on his face.

“Where have you been?” The blonde asked.

“You have to promise me you won’t freak out” Coriolanus rolled his eyes.

“Y/n was punished for helping you to cheat. Gaul sent her here to serve as a nurse for the summer.” His eyes almost popped out.

He had completely forgotten about you. He cringed, already expecting to have you all over him.

“Does she know I’m here?” Sejanus nodded.

“Yeah. She wasn’t happy when I mentioned you.” Coriolanus suddenly remembered that the last time he talked to you, you cursed him. You got mad after he didn't even offer a thank you for your help. Coriolanus realized at that moment that you hoped he would choose you over Lucy Gray. Which didn’t happen.

“She has access to the club reserved for high status military personnel. I won’t say this is bad but there is better…” he looks at his songbird. Everyone cheered for her, but…

Suddenly, Coriolanus doesn't like that Sejanus had spent last night partying with you.

“Take me there.” He says, looking at his friend.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She stated very clearly that-“

“Sejanus… I need to see her. I won’t cause any disturbance.” After a minute of debating, Sejanus stands up and tilts his head, telling Coriolanus to get out of the bar.

It’s a fair distance. Coriolanus has no idea where he is going. Until the end of an alley seems to have some hallway that irradiates red lights.

“Here it is.” Sejanus points out.

There’s a man with a different peacekeeper uniform. He asks Sejanus who invited him.

Coriolanus hears your full name for the first time. He learns you have two names and two last names. At the Academy you only used one of each.

“How do you know her full name?” He asks Sejanus when the man lets them inside the place.

The red lights start changing, mixing with crystal chandeliers and velvet walls.

“Our parents have made some deals in the past.” Coriolanus wants to know more. He needs more details about how you ended up in the same place as him. He doesn’t think you also paid to change districts like him.

“Hey. Whatever you plan to say to her, apologize to her. She’s a girl a million would pay to have. She just wanted to help you, Coryo” he doesn’t know how to take Sejanus. He sure sounded like always, the friend trying to give advice. But he also sounded… like he was one of the millions who would pay to have you. Coriolanus didn’t feel pleased.

Finally, the place is crowded. And the people inside look different than the ones at the bar. These people looked very clean and elegant to be in District 12.

The music is live jazz, the smell of pure tobacco and laughs everywhere. Coriolanus feels like he fits there. And he promises to talk with Lucy Gray the next day. After he left the bar she would ask where he did go.

But for now, his eyes start searching for you. A man in a suit that looked very Capitol started talking. Daring all the beautiful women there to dance, promising to crown one as the star of the night.

He hears a group of females laughing. And when he spots the group, you are being pushed to the dance floor.

Since Sejanus is nowhere to be found, Coriolanus makes his way closer to you.

He sees your natural hair down and wavy. Cranberry lips and gentle purple eyeliner around your eyes. A simple mauve dress, and he almost chokes about it.

Tigris made that dress. You asked her one day at the Academy. If she could make a dress from elegant fabric. Tigris said that she didn’t have enough to make a full gown. You didn’t care, you just hoped she could do something.

Coriolanus remembered Tigris making the dress late one night. And he tolerated you even less for making his cousin work harder. That was long forgotten when you paid her and referenced her to work with a friend of your mother.

You looked totally different. Not the same annoying material girl he knew at the Capitol. This humble version of you was totally attractive to Coriolanus.

He couldn’t tell if you were dancing tap, swing or something else, but you were good at it. A couple of times, he heard you talking with Clemensia and Arachne, about your winter concert or rehearsals. Now, it was evident you were good at dancing.

You laugh and people cheer for you. Mostly men, which for some reason makes Coriolanus tense his jaw.

The mauve fabric shined disguised under the chandeliers, and maybe it was just the sight of seeing you happy, or the way the dress hugged your body. But it made him smile. For the first time, Coriolanus feels a positive feeling about seeing you. He wants to talk to you. But he isn’t sure what he’ll say. So he opts to just see you for the night. He can see a slight layer of sweat on your forehead after two songs have passed. The crowd seemed to want you to win. And it only makes you more eager to do so.

In your head, this was a big distraction. It was the only moment of the week where you felt happy and free. It makes you forget about your pending University admission and all the drama. About your silly actions and disappointments.

The way your friends cheer and joke about making a bet to see who’d win between you and the other girl left. You really are having fun.

Until the remaining girl surrenders. It feels great. Being crowned as the star of the night, leaving the dance floor with so much admiration and looking over you.

Coriolanus sees how you cheer with your friends. You laugh and he swore he had never seen you smile and laugh so much. Maybe you are a little tipsy. He can’t tell, but after some minutes, one of your friends leaves with a man. The other two stay drinking, and you say your goodbyes.

Your dark coat covers everything once you’re ready to leave. And Coriolanus knows he shouldn’t, but he does it anyway. He starts following you.

Internally, he claims he did it because he thought it wasn’t safe for you to go back to the medical aisle in the middle of the night.

It’s not a long way. And Coriolanus notices how close his bed is to yours, literally.

He feels like an animal, following his prey. Only that he doesn’t intend to hurt you. Not more than he already had.

His legs act by themselves it seems. He keeps venturing into the decent building. It’s lonely and dark. Coriolanus notices that probably many nurses were already sleeping. He sees you enter a room, and he memorizes the number. Seconds later, when he’s about to leave, you come out again. A towel in your hand…

It’s his cue to leave. He knows it’s enough. He never should have followed you. Not when he was supposed to be listening to Lucy Gray and The Covey. Not when he paid to serve in District 12 for Lucy Gray.

But it’s too late because he’s already poking his head, and when his eyes meet your body, your coat and dress are on the floor. In a bench near lays a simple but naughty red pair of panties. Coriolanus feels himself getting red at the sight of the underwear, just red, no details, just red. Red like his cheeks, you are naked, under the spray of the shower.

As you’re supposed to be a person he barely tolerates, Coriolanus hates himself for admitting how beautiful you were.

The water coats your body in a gorgeous way. He sees your hair become slightly darker and falls longer across your back.

The shower smells like some summer fruit and it’s all because of your silly shampoo. Coriolanus had seen it before at the Capitol, it was expensive.

Something changes as you massage your scalp, giving Coriolanus a view of your soft and pretty stomach. Your breasts and some moles that are visible are the death of the man. He shouldn’t want to hold your waist and help you clean your body. He shouldn’t want to kiss every birthmark and mole covering you.

It’s the first time he sees a woman naked.

That night, you happily go to bed, soothing the heat wave. Some weight falls from your shoulders. And for the first time, you feel like everything was meant to happen, and it’s okay.

For Coriolanus, he has to touch himself to forget about your naked silhouette haunting his dirty mind. And when he ends, he takes a cold shower and falls into the tiny uncomfortable lower bunk. Sejanus was snoring already, some bunks without a host, probably still at the bars or sleeping with a lover.

Coriolanus is ready to sleep and pretend nothing happens. He would go back to his soft songbird by the morning.

But it doesn’t work. He knows he’s so messed up. Because you are still there, and not only your naked body. Your natural hair, sweet lips and the way you smiled, danced and laughed are there too.

…

When the sun rose, it was imminent that it was going to be a hotter day. The summer in district 12 was bright. Full of light, and green from nature in the surrounding woods. That’s not necessarily the case in the medical aisle. You woke up at 5:00 am to start your shift. Your soft hands had been classifying medicines through shelves.

“Y/n” calls one of your friends from the entrance of the storage room. She giggles after seeing you on top of the stairs, holding onto your dear life.

“Need help?” You smile, shaking your head.

“I’m okay, thanks. What happened?”

“There’s a telegram for you at the mailbox” was unusual. Only your mother called once to see how you were doing. She was still very mad at you.

“Oh, okay. I’ll go now…” with that, you hop off the stairs and leave the little box with remaining bottles on a desk.

After a minute of going downstairs in the building, you get to the mailbox. You give your name to the elder woman in the office and she hands you a cream envelope.

Making a pause in the hallway full of lockers for peacekeepers waiting for mail you open your own.

[The head of the hospital has shared with us you’re doing an outstanding job. This is what we expect from you after your return to the Capitol. Keep going and we might pull some strings to get you back earlier.

Take care, dad.]

You smile. It was enough for you. The anger was undeniably lowering. And going back to the Capitol would make you very happy. Already contemplating the perfect lie. That you went to serve as a nurse for charity, for your kind heart. Everyone would believe you, and the girls would be jealous of your bravery. Nobody would know it was a punishment.

A punishment caused by the man you had just bumped into.

He picks you the open envelope and once he hands it, he sees you.

“Y/n…” you take the envelope from his hand, avoiding the touch.

“Coriolanus” with less makeup than two nights ago, you look even more beautiful he believes. The white nurse cap was so silly, but it was part of your uniform. But he can’t help but blush after remembering how the water fell across your body. And how he touched himself that night.

“I-…Sejanus told me you were here.” Your eyebrows rise, nodding with disinterest.

“Yeah, I’m here because of you.” He sighs, realizing that his friend was right, you were really disappointed to see him.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” You roll your eyes. Already sick of wasting your time for him. You had been so scared to encounter him one day. But that you had him facing you, you couldn’t care less.

“Of course. Because you couldn’t care less about me…” he wants to say he actually cares. But the truth is, that before the night he saw you at the bar, he didn’t even remember you. But now, it was like you had put on a spell on him, making him want to know everything about you.

“Just stay away from sight of view and everything is going to be okay” he was shocked to hear you talk to him with much indifference. He was used to your sweet voice, asking him every morning how he was doing at the entrance of the classroom.

You were always at his feet. Helping him and doing everything so he would look down at you. And now, he actually was looking up, seeing how you went upstairs again. And he would do exactly the opposite of what you asked.

He would be everywhere if it meant seeing you again.

…

The bittersweet feeling of seeing Coriolanus stayed the whole afternoon until you finished your shift at 6:00pm. The heat was barely tolerable when the sun was almost gone. You went to the market, as you had promised to cook dinner for the girls that night.

The vegetables were fresh and there was a lot to pick. You carried a little basket filled with carrots, some potatoes and a piece of raw meat carefully folded. You were looking at some pair of earrings. They were handmade. With blue feathers and some tiny pieces of quartz. You smiled looking at them. When you were about to tell the little girl who was selling them, you felt very deep looks. And when you turn to the left, there is Lucy Gray and some of her friends from the band. She was sixteen, you were almost nineteen, you couldn’t pick a fight with her. She could hate you for being Capitol, for being such a bad mentor at the games. But maybe she didn’t knew that thanks to you she was alive. And the most important, she couldn’t hate you because of a man.

Before you can even feel awkward, you had already left the earrings and walked towards the girl.

“Is there anything I did to upset you, Lucy Gray? Because as far as I know we don’t know each other” that was the truth. You had your own motives to dislike her. But you hadn’t even turned to look at her. Unlike the songbird, who didn’t have a problem showing her disapproval of you with her face.

“Did you follow him here too?” You smiled. You didn’t know what Coriolanus had told her, or what she suggested on her own. Based on what happened, probably Lucy Gray believed you were the crazy stalker who couldn’t let go of Coriolanus Snow and his unrequited feelings for you.

“No. I was already here weeks before he arrived.” You simply answer her by looking at the notebooks in the table beside you. Lucy Gray couldn’t be jealous, but she had a bad omen about you.

“I was blinded by him once, just like you now. I helped him so you could win. Hoped he could choose me. And it wasn’t enough. He’s not the boy you think he is, Lucy Gray. You don’t know him like I do. But you can rest knowing I won’t lift a finger to make him notice me anymore” she seems surprised by your answer. But there’s no time for her to throw a rebuttal because you’re gone. Her friends gossip without her, saying how mean you were.

And Coriolanus had seen everything from a hidden corner. He was looking for Lucy Gray, already growing confused. Your words had gotten deep into his mind. While Lucy Gray was the sweetest girl he ever met, she also confused him. She had a rebellious side that he didn’t like. And you, he knew he would never be able to control you now, but he knew you would easily do the same things he did to win.

He stayed far, letting Lucy Gray to pass by with her friends. And when she was gone, out of the market, he came out.

He grabbed the same earrings you were looking at before.

…

It’s another night at the private bar. This time you know Coriolanus is there. He had the audacity to bring Lucy Gray. And you wonder if it was a good idea to tell Sejanus about the bar. Her green dress didn’t match the bar style. However, you ignore them as soon as your friends tell you they befriended a high standard peacekeeper. He had some handsome friends and they made you completely forget about Coriolanus and her songbird. You grew invested in the conversation with the men and your friends, even when one of girls makes fun of Lucy Gray and her visit to the secret bar.

Coriolanus keeps painfully turning to look at your way. He wants to go and get you out of the bar. But he already had a girl beside him. A much younger and innocent one. His anger escalates when a man takes you out to dance. You giggle as he says something in your ear. You had a pretty ruffled pink dress. Red lipstick and matching shoes.

“She looks happy…” Lucy Gray says, also looking at you.

“She isn’t happy. And that’s just an idiot” he spits pointing at the handsome peacekeeper dancing with you. He shouldn’t have said that, especially in front of Lucy Gray. But the way the man twisted you like a piece of the softest fabric, and the way he singed for you, it was taking over him.

It’s his hands that should be holding your hips. It’s his voice that should be making you dance. But Lucy Gray grabs his chin and offers him a sweet smile that makes him get lost on her brown eyes. She’s too good for him.

As he kisses her, he still feels the anger. Cause’ it should be you.

…

The roles had switched up. Coriolanus was infatuated by you. And now, you ignored him as if you never ever thought he was the love of your life.

Maybe is his hair, now short. Or maybe it is that deep sight he always has on you. The sweet boy that didn’t look on your way was gone.

As the days passed, you could feel the air changing. Telling you that your punishment would soon be over.

You flip through the pages, tons of files in the racks perfectly accommodated in the room. You read about all the frauds and corruption of the hospital and the military aisle. Enough to make you a dangerous target. So as soon as the headmistress nurse knows you have a long secret file in your memory, he gives you easy jobs.

And the dirty ones too.

Coriolanus follows you. Thought the archives rooms to the cold storage. He sees how there’s a tray ready to go. Some needles ready to pinch someone. And then you are changing the yellow liquid inside the injections, your face mask covering the small grin on your face. It makes him slightly shocked. He didn’t think you would be capable of doing such a thing. Some rumors flew across the militar camp. About a deal, between the heads of the hospital and the camp. Where they would secretly get rid of sick people from the district to stop wasting expensive medicines and other products.

But you hand the tray with an innocent smile.

And he grows worried. He can’t believe it, but he fears you could end up dead because of your little tricks. You leave early. So, he gains some confidence to follow you. He needs answers. He’s tired of following you to beg for your attention. It’s his lucky day that you chose to take the little trail that crossed the resting cabins of the peacekeepers. You walk past his cabin and his brain makes him walk faster, grab your forearm and push you inside it.

“What the hell?” You ask, startled. Looking at Coriolanus in shock.

The bunks are empty. Everyone is out.

“What were you doing? Switching the shots? You could get hanged or something else!” Suddenly you’re confused, questioning why he was caring now.

“There’s a lot more going on in the hospital than you could ever know, Coriolanus.” He understands it. And he isn’t surprised after all. Injustice happened everywhere.

But he wouldn’t easily let go.

“You could still get in trouble. Who’s making you do this?” You sigh frustrated, shrugging.

“Why do you care so much? Why can’t you leave me alone for once?” As you raise your voice, he grows impatient.

“I DO CARE ABOUT YOU!” Your silence makes him step closer.

“Seeing you dancing with that man, how he grabbed you, it boiled my blood.” Suddenly you feel nervous about his proximity.

And the cheeky asshole decided to step even closer.

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you” you do your best to keep the visual contact. But the way he’s looking at you is making it difficult. Especially after his lips are literally brushing your cheekbone.

“You are the one I desire.” He smashes his lips with yours. Honestly, you believe him. But it isn’t enough to make your heartbeats for him.

“Did you let that man touch you after you left?” You giggle, letting him wander under your nurse apron.

“My virginity is part of my pride and dignity” you answer, kissing his neck, letting his sneaky hands touch you everywhere. His right hand gropes your breast and the other is trying to hold the fat of your hip and ass like a starved man.

Your brain can’t work for some minutes. But you kiss him back. You decide he wouldn’t puppet you. Never again.

As he devours your lips, confirming you gave the softest kisses, yet passionate. You push him gently towards a random bed. And slowly, you get on your knees, dropping your nurse cap and navy blue cape to the floor.

Coriolanus is officially in shock as you drop his belt to the floor.

When he least expects it, you are already licking the tip of his cock. You make a wet mess of him. His head drops back, letting you do whatever you want.

He’s in heaven. Of course, you weren’t the most experienced but to be a virgin, you were quite an addictive lover.

In your head, you just can think about giving him pleasure. Your twisted plan would be effective as soon as he exploded. You put much effort in sucking and licking every vein of him. His length did not disappoint, and you mentally cursed as you realized he could’ve been your first time.

Coriolanus knows damn well it is over for him when his eyes meet yours. His tip met the back of your throat, and he ended up spilling his hot seed inside your mouth. You show him your tongue, covered in white, only to swallow everything. He gulps, feeling the remaining spasms of his orgasm.

“You’ll be the death of me…” he admits, taking a long breath.

As for you, you know it’s just a matter of time. If Coriolanus was so invested in making you look at him now, you would give him more reasons until he broke and admitted he couldn’t live without you.

So you clean your messy lipstick. Your nurse cap and navy cape perfectly in place and you look gorgeous in a mirror near the door.

“If anyone asks where I was, you say I went to drop some letters.” After that you don’t nothing else. He tucks himself inside his pants and stands quickly.

“Wait-” but you had already left.

…

In the night, Coriolanus starts looking out for Sejanus. He was going to ask if he wanted to go to the bar to see Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t find him. He feels his forehead sweating even in the middle of the night.

Near a little training center, he hears two recognizable voices. And when he turns into a little hallway, he sees you arguing with Sejanus.

“No, I’m not defending the Capitol, but these people are not worth risking your life, Sejanus” it’s the first thing he hears from you.

“They deserve better luck, y/n. Something we were born with.” Coriolanus sees you huffing, arms crossed as the slight wind makes your uniform cape lift.

“What’s going on?…” the blonde asks. You turn and sigh, expecting Sejanus to explain. You like to think Coriolanus would make Sejanus to think clearly. Like he did before.

There’s only silence.

“You won't tell him? I will…” you turn to Coriolanus. He can feel you are angry; you disapprove whatever it was happening with Sejanus.

“He’s helping some rebels.” Sejanus only looks down.

“They’re not rebels.”

“Well, they’re definitely not on the right track. And helping them will only lead to trouble.”

“Why are you doing this?” Coriolanus joins. He sounds tired, immediately remembering how he had to literally fight in the Hunger Games to save him.

“They are suffering. They don’t have anyone.” Sejanus replies.

“If you weren’t helping them, they would put a bullet in your head before you could even blink. They are not worth risking your life, Sejanus. I don’t want to see you hanged.”

“I appreciate your worries, y/n. I really do. But this is the least I can do after all the things my parents have aligned for me.” Your eyes water. Even after all the horrible you have done at the Capitol, as a nurse, you cared for Sejanus and Coriolanus. You might have been playing a game of manipulation with Coriolanus, but if he ended up in a mess that threatened his life, you would fear. The same for Sejanus.

“Sejanus…” Coriolanus felt slightly bad after seeing you at the verge of tears. He knew behind that new mask of indifference you were very soft.

“If something happens to you, I’m gonna live mad at you for the rest of my life. Life made us end up here for him…” you say pointing at Coriolanus.

And it’s true, you were sent to the 12 for punishment. Sejanus literally followed him just because.

“That’s enough penitence.” Feeling the tears flow, you start walking away.

Sejanus also feels wrong. But he’s confident. Both men stare at you, and different thoughts run through their heads.

“If anything happens, Coryo… Take good care of her.” Coriolanus looks at his friend.

He thinks you deserve more. He finally accepts there’s more to win by your side rather than following the songbird. Yet, he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray yet.

“I’ll take care of her, Sejanus.”

…

You don’t see the boys for the next two days. Until the night. When for emergency protocol you had to work. A fight in the bar caused some injuries to many men. So, there you are at 1:00 am sending gazes and bottles of alcohol. And when you are about to clean your own space, after a knock on your door, you see Coriolanus and Lucy Gray.

Unbelievable.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see him properly. The tray on your hands falls to the ground, making a loud sound. There’s blood on his face, a dark splotch on the right side of his nose. Beside him is Lucy Gray. Wearing one her bohemian dresses with her rural touch of always. You go to inspect his face.

“Got into a fight.” Coriolanus explains. You frown, thinking that is very ignorant and low. Completely disappointed of him for joining the cause.

“You got into the fight? Why?” He sighs, and Lucy Gray only huffs, helping him to sit on a bench. You ignore her, proceeding to take some cotton and equipment to stitch the little wound on his cheekbone. Your fingers are cold, and make him squirm as soon as they touch him.

“Some guy. He got violent after harassing her” of course it had to be for Lucy Gray all the commotion. Everything makes sense, the fight at the bar you listened to less than an hour ago. The songbird must’ve performed, and someone made a mess.

You can’t feel bad for her. While half of the district loved her, there was a considerable amount of people who disliked her, rumors saying she carried problems wherever she went.

“Hmm.” you have a lot to say, but you won’t spit everything at once. Coriolanus sighed, pretending it was because the alcohol was touching his skin, but it was because you weren’t pleased.

Even in his exile, he was between two women again. And while he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray, he couldn’t let you go too.

“Can you give us a moment, Lucy Gray?” he asks calmly. And maybe her reaction wasn’t meant to, but she showed that it made her uncomfortable.

“Sure. I’ll wait outside…” awkwardly she made a smile to the man seated in front of you and left.

Silence took over. You continued to clean the wound, and his deep blue eyes were locked on your face.

Finally, he was able to see your real beauty. Bare amounts of makeup. Hair down and short nails. No crazy looks, ridiculous hairstyles and cat nails. This was the real you.

“I didn’t start the fight…” he started.

“But of course, it had to be for her.” you finish for him. Again, he sighs, trying to avoid any possible irritation.

“It wasn’t her fault what happened.”

“Oh my god. Just listen to yourself! … Everything is her fault!” You burst after finishing with the needle.

“Why do you hate her so much?” He asks irritatedly, shrugging and expecting you to answer soon.

“I don’t hate her. I couldn’t care less for that poor girl. But she’s the reason why you got so obsessed with winning the damn prize. She’s the reason why you cheated and she’s the reason why you’re exiled, and I’m punished” he knows it’s true. In a matter of weeks, Coriolanus repeatedly questioned why Lucy Gray. And until two weeks ago, when he started questioning why not you.

Coriolanus smirks. Finding a way to evade a deeper conversation. He wasn't ready for the time to come where he had to decide. Lucy Gray or you.

“You sound like you’re jealous” he actually thought you would deny it.

“Of course it makes me jealous, Coriolanus!”

His smile fades away. You curse under your breath, moving aside to pick up the nursing equipment. There was no way back, and you wouldn’t lie.

“Ever since I met you, I wanted you to like me. And all I received were mean looks and judgmental jokes. About my hair, my lipstick, my dress, everything” you admit, sounding a little hurt.

“And this girl comes, and in less than two months she has you doing the impossible for her” you mumble. Coriolanus was never the romantic type. He was a man of few words and very analytical. He wasn’t a fan of the districts, so you wondered what could possibly be the reason for him to get obsessed with the songbird.

“Do you love her?” For you, it was a simple question. You always faced your feelings. But for Coriolanus, he tended to avoid his feelings.

He looked at the ground, at your boots before looking up at you.

“Why are you making this so complicated?” He asks, in hopes to avoid the real question.

“You won’t have both girls, Coriolanus.” When you come back at him, he stares directly at his view, at your waist. He focuses on the details of the grey and white fabric decorating you. There’s a tiny spot of blood near your breast, and some dirt near where he thought it was your belly button.

For sure, he knows he won’t have both girls.

“And as much as she tries to make you fit in. You don’t belong here. You and I were educated to live in The Capitol.” He’s well aware that with Lucy Gray, he would be pursuing a humble peaceful life. With you, he would be pursuing a luxurious and firm life.

The harder you are pushing his buttons, the harder you’re manipulating him. You trace his chin and neck, fingers grasping his silver chain. And you know he’s getting soft, vulnerable for your touch.

Maybe he changed his perspective of you after seeing you dance. After seeing you naked in the showers. After realising the type of woman you were.

“I would love to see when realization hits you. You’ll see that she only used you. You’ll notice that I was on your side and could’ve been for the rest of my life” his jaw tenses. He looks you in the eye again. You smile, thumb on his lower lip.

“And pretend as much as you can, selling me that face of I don’t care about you. But I know you do; you’re just blinded by the songbird. Count the days till she uses her singing against you. It’ll be too late.”

He hates losing, missing things. And you know it.

“She makes me want to be someone better.” His best attempt to soothe you makes you laugh.

“The summer will be over, and I’ll leave. She won’t inspire you to grow. She will make you lay still. I’ll be at the top of the Capitol again. And you couldn’t make your house rise…” that hit him in his pride. The fact that your words were true. He thought about Tigris and his grandmother. They deserved better.

“I want you to be someone better. And yet, you’re here. Without the prize, without being home. Just picture it… Where would you be if you had chosen me?” He really wanted to choose you. He just needed a fucking reason. But once again, you have disappeared.

…

He cared. But he cared more for himself.

That doesn't make him feel better though. He had doomed Sejanus Plinth by recording his words.

He couldn’t sleep, knowing that anything could happen the following morning. He has a tiny brown bag in his hand, clutched as if it was made of pure gold. He can’t wait, and he can’t sleep. So, he sneaks out of the camp and goes to your room. He needed to see you, he needed to choose you. That would mean leaving. Concentrating on you and his family. Pursuing the Capitol’s type of future, away from the country life.

Your friends were about to leave to go to the secret bar. And they tell him you were gone to the lake. It makes him realize how much you had to be overthinking. Just by seeing you, anyone could tell you weren’t from the districts. Spending the night in the lake wasn’t pleasant at all. With animals, mosquitoes, and the humid heat of the woods.

But he walks in the darkness. Hearing some crickets and frogs that guide him to the little visible light at the end of the trial. The more he walks towards it, the more he can distinguish you.

There you are sitting over a blanket. Reading a book, wearing a long pastel nightgown. The sight makes him smile.

He steps over a branch and makes you turn worried. But as soon as you spot him, you sigh, closing the book.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“I could ask the same question. It’s nearly midnight.” He sits beside you on the blanket, you only shrug, facing away from him, looking at the barely noticeable reflect of the lake under the moon.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither” there’s a lot of things he wants to say, you want to scream it too.

“I wanted to give you this…” he hands you the brown bag. Frowning, you take it, your fingers brushing his, but you opt to ignore it.

When you dig your hands inside, you feel something soft. And when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but cheekily smile.

It’s the feather earrings you wanted at the market. He probably collected the least he could to pay for them. Or maybe he traded something. It’s uncertain, but you can’t deny it warmed your heart a little.

“You saw me?” He nods, watching how you cautiously caressed the pair.

“Then you must’ve heard me too…” Coriolanus heard it. But he would pretend the opposite. Just to avoid the question.

“I didn’t. I was passing by when you were looking at them. What happened?” You tilt your head, putting the earrings on.

“Your songbird is jealous of me… Does she know about the good time we had the other day?” He blushes, closing his eyes out of embarrassment.

“How do I look?” When he opens his eyes, he sees you have the earrings on. The blue feathers looked very outstanding in the middle of the dark. The light you brought did not make any justice to the beauty of your face. Barely highlighting your eyes and lips.

“You look beautiful…” there’s something on your mind. You want to ask so badly. And while you could pry about his thoughts of your new appearance, you don’t. Your voice slightly trembling as you start speaking.

“Did you and Sejanus have anything to do with the death of the daughter of the mayor and the boyfriend?” He closes his eyes.

“No.”

“Coriolanus Snow… Do not lie to me.” his arms come to rest on his bent knees. And you know the truth through his breathing.

“Sejanus went too far. I wanted to keep him alive” you sigh, feeling already stressed. Panic invades you, fearing for both boys.

“What if this is just what you two needed to end up in real trouble?” He looks at you, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He wanted a hug from you. He wanted you to love him like he knew you did during the Academy days. Just to feel some sense of normality. That this isn’t what his life turned out to…

“What if he gets killed. What if you get killed?”

“It won’t happen. It’ll be okay” your nails were going to suffer from anxiety. But he places a hand on your bare shoulder, calming you.

“Why can’t you give me a rest, Coriolanus?” He knows what you mean, and it makes his heart grow soft.

“Honestly. Before the games I barely tolerated you. But after seeing you here and everything that happened, you’re right. I can’t have both girls.” It makes you weak.

“What made you look at me? Why now?” He sighs.

Firstly, it was pure lust, your body. But at this point, he knew he could potentially end up alone. And he refused to let go of the person he had won since the beginning.

“Because I wasn't able to appreciate that I had you. And… I don’t want to be alone.” You nod, analyzing his words.

“But you have her. Since when is she not enough?” Coriolanus had to accept how analytical you were. He can be honest and be in peace with you or lie and keep fighting for you.

“I don’t think she’s ever been enough. We don’t have much in common. Just that we are orphans… if she never came along… I swear I know I would have ended up by your side.” You think you understand him. He just realized what he lost. And now he was trapped to decide. However, you were not going to give your heart again. Only time or a life-or-death situation would make you admit you still loved him.

“I said it before, I’ll repeat it again. I won’t be here forever…” he leaned closer. His hand caressing your chin, appreciating how soft your skin was. He wanted to crown your head with flowers and promise he was yours. Just not yet.

“I know…” his nose brushes yours, the tension grows and this time, you are the one closing distance to kiss him. You are so close to winning, to have him begging for you.

That night, he keeps kissing you, you read him your book for a bit and before realising it, both of you end up sleeping on the blanket.

In the morning, he finds you undressing to take a quick splash in the lake.

When you realize he’s awake, you smile at him.

“Morning…” like a slow striptease, you let the nightgown fall and he just stares at your body with the first rays of sun illuminating you.

“I don’t think this is a dream. Right?” You chuckle before your body disappears under the water.

It’s the perfect invitation. He joins you, and the first minutes of his morning are spent kissing you. Only to end up in the same blanket both of you slept on. With him on top of you.

“Tell me to stop now.” He says in your mouth. Your leg slowly slides through his ankle, sending shivers through his spine.

“I think it’s too late for that.”

He returns you the favor. His head between your legs is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard or seen in his life. It’s so dirty, eating you out in the middle of the wild. You taste better than expected, and it feels simple, even natural to please you. He can see how your back arches when his nose gently touches your clit. He feels so proud, and he can already see how well you two could handle being lovers. He remembers how you sucked his cock and how good you did it.

To you, you felt some insecurity, because he hadn’t decided on you. But you already feel the lead being on your side. Soon that thought fades away, because the pleasure is becoming too much. And you’re ready to receive the upcoming orgasm.

You forget about Lucy Gray, Sejanus, the deaths, your return to the Capitol.

Everything is gone as soon as you feel him. Even the pride and dignity you talked about on losing your virginity.

It just feels like it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect…” he says, eyes on your stretch marks, fingers tracing them before moving towards north and pinching your nipples.

The way you clench around him, his lips leaving red marks on your breasts that would soon turn purple. Your moans, and your dirty mouth cursing.

“Fuck- oh, Coryo!” He couldn’t believe you just cursed. But he then realized he was fucking you. Maybe he had already chosen.

“More, please-“ you manage to say between moans. And he’s in heaven again. He fucks you harder, faster, already feeling he was close too. The silver chain dangling just in front of your face. You swear he had split you in half, but the pain was nothing compared to pleasure.

“Wait for me. We’ll do it together” you nod, noticing how intimate and passionate your first time was being. He wanted you to wait for him. And it made your heart clench. You need to hold him. So, your arms hug him, and he understands, leaning to end up with your foreheads together.

In a matter of seconds, you both reach climax.

“Promise me you’ll be careful” he nods, kissing you one last time.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

But it isn’t. You run as soon as your friends say Sejanus Plinth was going to be hanged for treason. You run and your feet burn.

When you make it, you have to hear him screaming for Coriolanus. You start reaching the front faster. But you meet his blue eyes, and you are able to see him saying no to you. Your heart beats fast, sweat on your forehead and eyes watering faster than ever.

When you look at Sejanus again, his neck broke and he was already hanging.

Coriolanus sees the shock and terror on your face. The birds flying and repeating the last words of Sejanus make it worse. He holds the rifle firmly, but his eyes water too.

He follows you as soon as he’s able to leave. Too many things happening at the same time. And he really regrets not noticing you before. None of his life would’ve been ruined.

He finds you alone in your room. Your friends were working. But you were crying on the floor, covering your face and sobbing loudly. His heart broke, and he let some tears fall too. So he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went to hug you tightly.

As soon as you felt him, you hugged him back.

“He deserved better…” you mumble between sobs. You say he was a good man. But soon your sobs stop, and Coriolanus can almost hear you plotting.

“Where is the gun you used, Coriolanus?” His heart stops, and that’s his epiphany.

“I don’t know. Lucy Gray must know…” the girl could easily be fast to learn where it was. You remain silent.

After some minutes of crying, he’s still holding your hands.

“Lucy Gray wants me to go with her outside of the districts…” you don’t have the strength to laugh, but you really wanted to.

“One last time. Do you love her, Coriolanus?” He knows it’s time and there’s no going back. So he sighs, feelings the dry tears on his face.

“No.”

Your soul can finally rest.

“In two days, I’m leaving. I got accepted by Gaul into University. I just learned this morning after receiving mail.” He looks deep at your eyes. Trying to understand what you just said.

“Then you are going with Lucy Gray. You find the gun and if needed… Also get rid of her” you knew Lucy Gray was there when the incident happened. You had also made up your mind. And you would give Coriolanus one last chance.

“I’ll wait for you for two days. If you come back, you know I’ll be yours. But if you decide to stay with her, I’ll understand. And your secret will die with me.” He feels you kiss his cheek and after that, you quietly leave. Giving him no choice but to pack to meet Lucy Gray at the Hanging Tree.

…

You wait impatiently for your train. Coriolanus was gone. He didn’t return. So, you wait with your heart full of fissures. Your violet dress makes you a target among the station. You look very Capitol again. But something from District 12 changed you.

And then you hear him. Calling your name.

When you turn, you see Coriolanus almost running towards you. You can feel some tears forming. Your messed up mind was ignoring all the hell he made you feel and see. Like he never killed anyone, like he didn’t take so long to choose you. Like you didn’t know he consciously chose to be a bad person.

He looks agitated, with his peacekeeper uniform intact. His blue eyes look thrilled. Like a lot of emotions were invading him at the same time.

And the first thing he does when he’s in front of you, is to smash his lips with yours.

It takes you by surprise. The way his free hand immediately goes to your chin. In the middle of the train station. Feels like you were meeting your lover who survived war. It feels wrong to be savoring the moment you realize Coriolanus Snow finally chose you.

At that very moment you tangle your arms around his neck, stepping on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He feels you smiling, and that’s all he needed.

He needed to kiss you to forget about the cabin, the birds, the gun and Lucy Gray Baird.

And he does, your lips assuring him it was okay.

He isn’t evil, he can’t be when a sweet woman like you was kissing him back.

It was delicate for sure.

“Is it over?” You ask between tears. He nods, smiling, holding you close to him.

“Everything is over now.” You won’t ask what happened. You will just savor the victory.

“I can go to the Capitol. Gaul wants to see me” your eyes shine, relief flowing across you. Knowing you will be able to go back home with him.

“Where does this leave us?” He chuckles.

“We’re marrying as soon as we make it to District 2, dear” he kisses you to soothe your shock.

Almost at the end of the ride on the train, you chuckle looking at the window. He looks with curiosity, still drooling over you wearing the earrings he gave you. They would be his reminder that you had been there since the beginning, when he had nothing to offer. And yet, you stayed.

“What?” He finally asks.

“We’re a liability, you know?” A smile forms on his face. He shouldn’t be smiling, but he does anyways.

“I would repeat everything if it meant ending up here with you” and it was true. Because he would receive the money from the Plinth family, he would be able to study from Gaul, with you. He would get rid of Highbottom, and anyone on his way. But what seemed to be the most urgent matter, was to make you his wife.

But for now, he just takes your hand, kissing it.

….

Soft!Coriolanus fic is next. Hint? It’s gonna be based on Supercut from Lorde. Thanks to my crush with Tom Blyth, I realized Reputation and Melodrama are my favorite albums on earth. If you want to be tagged on the next fic, comment!!!!!!!! <3.

Taglist: @peachyharht @toogardenheart @slytherinholland @futurecorps3 @asapkyndall @speedycashflowerbasketball

[targaryen-dynasty]

STRESS RELIEF.

Daemon Targaryen x female!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; implied canon typical incest/ targcest (no named relationship other than husband & wife but reader speaks high valyrian), oral (m receiving), balls sucking, balls worship, cock slapping, breeding kink, fem reader (no mentions of appearance)

WORDS: 2.9 K

NOTES: I KNOW I said you won't get anything from me for the next two weeks, but this is an old story I love and edited, and I'm always in the mood to suck his balls. Ty Lana @zaldritzosrose 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The door to your chambers bursting open with a thud, the thick wood slamming against the old masonry of Maegor’s Holdfast, is what forcefully pulls you out of your slumber.

As your eyes shoot open, you need a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of your chambers, the flame of the fireplace long extinguished and indicating it’s been a while since you found sleep.

Every sense of tiredness that has lingered in your bones vanishes suddenly at the noisy intrusion, more so as you spot the armor-clad silhouette of your husband standing at the threshold of your marital quarters.

He appears to be even more bulky and bull-like with the natural broadness of his shoulders accentuated by the heavy armor and the golden cloak, and just that sight alone has an aching desire filling your veins.

It’s the closer look you take that makes you aware of his labored breathing, chest rising and falling with heaving breaths, almost seeming as though he’s in great stress.

Whenever Daemon barges into your chambers at this hour, still wearing his armor, you know he needs to be consoled and pampered.

“Husband?” Your soft voice finally pierces through the silence, still thick with sleep from being awoken so abruptly.

A few, determined strides is all it takes him to enter the room, closing the door behind him as loudly as he’s opened it before. Although you know something is plaquing his mind, and that he’s not usually as harsh towards you as this, you still flinch at the thud.

Sitting up straight with the bedcovers bunched in front of your breasts, you have a puzzled look on your face. One of the few things Daemon has established fairly early into your marriage was the strict prohibition of you wearing any kind of smallclothes or nightgowns to bed, as he wants you to lie just as bare next to him as he always does.

He always states that there are quite a few practical reasons for it, with easier and quicker access to your cunt being the main one of them. Albeit you know for certain that he just loves to feel your skin on his when he falls asleep, solely embraced by the warmth and softness of your body snuggled up against his.

Clashing of metal accompanies his heavy footsteps as he approaches you, stern gaze fixed on your small frame.

The closer he gets, the more you are able to make out his chiseled features with long strands of his silver-blonde hair framing them perfectly. Even in the almost non-existent light of your chambers you notice the dark blown eyes, the adored lilac almost fully eclipsed by pitch black.

“Va aōha ybon,” he rasps, voice deep and commanding, and leaving no space for any kind of objection. On your knees.

You comply swiftly, the bedcovers thrown aside to reveal your naked form. A somewhat feral growl ripples through your husband’s chest at the sight, the curves and dips of your body enhanced by the light the moon casts through the windows.

The stone floor feels cold and hard as you sink to your knees, causing you to shift your weight from one knee to the other and back, trying to mend the discomfort at least slightly.

It usually requires your help to strip him off his heavy armor, but much to your surprise, Daemon manages to shred himself out of the majority of it all by himself, driven by sheer lust and hunger for you.

Where his silver hair is usually well combed and neat, the loose tresses now cascade down his shoulders and back visibly tousled and dirty.

Your hands lie folded in your lap, thumbs brushing over each other in a way to keep yourself calm. You have been married to Daemon for two summers, but know his silence never means anything good. It is threatening, and more often than not getting you into trouble, because he always has something to say.

As he stands in front of you in his full glory, only clad in a pair of dark breeches and a loose tunic, you hesitantly reach to place a hand on his sturdy thigh while his hand cups your cheek in return. Finding yourself leaning into the touch, you’re quickly repulsed as you catch a whiff of what smells like sweat, dirt and… iron.

“What have you done today?“ you ask innocently, though you aren’t sure if you want to hear his reply – that means if you even get one.

While the pad of his thumb brushes over the curve of your lips, his other hand slowly unlaces the front of his breeches, easing the confines of his half-hard member, and causing a wave of arousal to seep out of your cunt, anticipation making it clench around nothing.

“Oh, we have restored law and order,“ he purrs, the cocky smirk on his lips indicating that he’s more than satisfied with the outcome of it all. “The Kingsguard cleaned the streets from the city‘s scum.“

Listening intently, you just nod in acknowledgement, not at all surprised by your husband‘s actions. “And does the king know you did that?“

“I do not care if the king knows or not,“ he spits, impatiently tugging the front of his breeches down just enough to free his cock and stones. “He is blind, guided by the incompetent leech that claims to be his hand.“

A musky scent hits your nose when you catch sight of his thick cock. His musky scent, mixed with the salty smell of sweat. It has you licking your lips like a greedy whore, and if anything, you love it. It’s a sharp reminder that you have married a hardworking and ambitious man, and not a boy.

Your hand instinctively curls around his member, your index finger and thumb barely touching. His girth has always been something that impresses you. He’s considerable, leaving you wondering at times how it even fits into your mouth and cunt.

You slowly tug him to full hardness, stroking him the way you know he likes, even though your pace is a bit slower than usual. You listen to him rant about his brother, and the insolence of his hand, Otto Hightower, merely humming whenever your husband expects you to.

Once his cock stands to full attention, throbbing in your hand, you release it and instead fondle his stones, heavy and hot in your hand. The fleshy pouch they sit in is a bit darker than the rest of his pale skin and visibly sagged, but doesn’t hang too low.

Your actions earn a disapproving tsk from Daemon, despite the visible twitching of his cock at the new stimulation, and he wastes no time in fisting a good bit of your hair to shove your face towards his crotch. The scent is more prominent the closer you get, but not at all repulsing. Instead, it arouses you even more.

You’re not sure if it’s Daemon‘s usual lack of patience or his abnormal obsession with the king and his entourage that makes him greedy and needy for your touch, but you decide to not give in to him so easily.

Gently squeezing and fondling the sack of his stones, your tongue licks a flat stripe from the base of his member up to the bulbous tip of it. A salty taste lingers on your tongue, the few beads of his arousal quickly gathered and swallowed by you. You hum appreciatively at the taste, seemingly pleased to witness the affect your touch and presence has on your husband‘s body.

A sharp tug on your hair catches your attention and makes you yelp, your wide eyes finding your husband‘s demanding ones. “Quit playing games,“ he growls. A warning. But he should know by now that you are not one of his hounds, and what works with them doesn’t necessarily intimidate you.

Your tongue swirls around the tip of his cock, kitten-licking it until his heavy pants are replaced by annoyed huffs and grunts. Daemon doesn’t like you teasing him – not when he craves relief.

You keep your eyes neatly trained on him, studying his changing expressions to know whenever you’re playing with fire, and when it is best to follow his commands. Switching the positions of your mouth and hand, warmth brushes your face before the familiar musk seeps into your head.

Closing your eyes as all your senses are clouded by him, you latch on Daemon’s sac of stones, nuzzling your nose into the dark, coarse hair to take one of them in your mouth. Low purrs ripple from your throat, sending vibrations through his body.

You haven’t noticed, but your thighs clench and unclench repeatedly with each suck of your mouth, trying to soothe the aching settling at the apex of your legs. However, it doesn’t grant you the friction you crave.

“My, my, now look at that,“ Daemon coos. “Sucking my stones like a common whore. So desperate to have your mouth filled by me, hm?“

The condescending tone of his voice sends shivers up your spine, and you keen at the degrading nature of his words, moaning around his slightly slacked flesh.

Daemon is unable to tear his dark blown eyes from your full mouth struggling to take both of his stones. You’re trying so hard, but your mouth isn’t slack enough, causing you to nearly choke yourself trying to please him.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your mouth down your chin, gathering in your jugular notch, and really making you look like you belong to the Street of Silk; a common whore desperate for her mouth to be stuffed by something, and not caring if it was filled by his stones or cock.

While you are messily suckling the sack of his stones, you tease a few licks up his length, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of it with the tip of your tongue.

You relish in the way he twitches and squirms under your touch, the deep grunts only spurring you on even more. But you also are soaked for him, core clenching and aching, begging to be used.

Daemon has started to tug himself off at the sight of your lips around his flesh, big hand the perfect size for his considerable length, while his other tightly fists into your hair to keep you where he wants you.

You hollow your cheeks around him, sucking with the tip of your tongue dragging over the sensitive skin. The familiar taste of manhood lingers on your tongue, and your jaw goes slack, finally managing to engulf his whole sac with your mouth. But when you try to pull away for a breath, Daemon only snorts and pulls you right back to his stones.

He harshly tugs on your hair, tilting your head back so you are forced to look at him when he slaps his hard cock against your face. Your saliva adds a sheen to his flushed skin, making him glisten in the dim light, and catches your attention, your eyes trailing over the length of his cock – you want nothing more than to feel those veins on your tongue.

As his cock repeatedly makes contact with your swollen lips and cheeks, the indecency of it all sends heat straight through your body, for it’s the first time he has ever done something like that.

Daemon bows forward, looming over your frame but coming close enough for you to feel his breath fanning over your face. Goosebumps prickle on your skin, and his intense lilac eyes send desire straight to your jumbled mind.

“What a wanton harlot you are,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Whores of the Silk Street do such things.”

While his degrading words go straight to your head, making you eager for more, you still cower beneath his dominating presence. “Yn ao hae ziry,” you reply, cocking your head sideways in an innocent way. But you like it.

It seems that your feigned innocence doesn’t convince him, because you suddenly feel something warm and wet dripping down your cheeks; his saliva. He has spat on your cheek, spreading it over your heated skin with a satisfied smirk ghosting over his features. Daemon rarely enjoys having you talk back at him, to tease him, and right now clearly isn’t one of those moments.

At the realization of what he’s just done, you feel your voice tighten in your throat, your lips pressing into a thin line as embarrassment floods your veins.

“Gaoman, yn…,” he muses, bending back and tracing the tip of his length along the slit of your pouty lips. “...nyke hae ziry tolī skori gaomā daor ȳdragon rȳ mirre.” With these words leaving his lips, his cock hits your cheek once again, almost as if he’s making fun of you. I do, but I like it more when you do not speak at all.

The grip on your hair loosens only for him to cup your cheek, fingertips digging sharply into the flushed skin of your cheeks. His other hand repeatedly taps the tip of his cock against your swollen lips in a demanding manner, begging for entrance.

“Open your mouth, or else I am opening it for you.”

You wet your lips, just the mere thought of having him down your throat causes a sense of soreness to linger in the back of it, and Daemon seems to notice your apprehension.

“I see your mouth begging for my cock, you filthy slut. Don’t act like an insufficient brat for you have done this plenty of times before.” He is right, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever get used to his sheer size. Your thoughts, however, are cut short because Daemon isn’t Daemon, if he doesn’t take matters into his own hands.

The tip of his cock prods against your lips, and with the grip on your face tightening, you are all but forced to part them for him. There’s only little to no time to adjust to his size granted to you, because he sheaths himself inside of you in one, swift thrust.

A few seconds pass in which neither of you moves. Your nose is nuzzled against his pubic bone, the tip of it brushing the wispy trail of his hair, and you try to stifle the urge to gag and choke around him, your hands getting ahead with clutching his muscular thighs to keep yourself grounded.

Every muscle of his body twitches with pleasure as he grows accustomed to the warmth and tightness of you, his head tipping back to release a bawdy groan.

And then his hips start to buck into your mouth, allowing a wave of fresh air to fill your lungs when he almost completely pulls out; only the tip remaining embraced between your lips. A firm hand locks behind your head to stop you from pulling back.

Daemon’s hips thrust into your mouth with reckless abandon like he belonged into it, the bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat but never giving you anything you can’t handle. He knows you can take it, and that you like it.

The lewd noises of his soaked cock easing in and out of your warm mouth fill the room, spurring him on even more. At this point, you are soaking wet for him, droplets of your arousal leaking onto the stone floor beneath your legs.

Your cheeks hollow around him as you choke and sputter around his length, spit dribbling down your chin and bosom. His stones tighten with his cock throbbing on your tongue, ready to spend himself down your throat at any given moment, your previous teasing clearly coming in handy.

There are tears brimming in your eyes, unhelpful when all you want is to look up at him, watch how he scrunches his brow and puckers his lips as he gazes at you in rapture.

“That’s it,” Daemon groans, the pace of his hips faltering as he chases his release. “Take it all.” And that is when you felt it.

His hot seed spills down your throat, coating your tongue. You gag slightly when his hips start to stutter, cock twitching and pulsing with the force of his peak. Droplets of his seed spill from the corners of your mouth, mixing with your saliva and dribbling down your chin while you struggle to swallow the rest.

Nonsense spews out of his mouth as his groans grow more wanton, no doubt losing awareness of his volume. You are destined to be the main topic of the court's whispers in the morrow, just like your mother and father have been before you.

His fingers comb through your hair slowly, stroking your head as if he’s thanking you for a job well done, while he rides out his peak with languid thrusts of his hips.

When he finally stops to regain his composure, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he takes, he allows you to pull back from him, a string of your saliva connecting your swollen lips with the bulbous head of his cock, only breaking as you lick your lips to gather the remnants of his spent.

“Ñuha sȳz riña,” he rasps, pulling you up on your feet to capture your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of him on your tongue spreads over his tongue and causes him to groan. My good girl.

Like a man possessed, he flips you around and easily throws you onto your marital bed. When you land on your stomach with him following closely behind, mounting you and straddling your arse, you squeal and chuckle, ecstatic that it’s finally your turn.

“Tonight is the night I shall put a child into you. I want to see your body swell with my seed.”

Daemon Taglist: @barbiedragon @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

[cozymoko]

So what I was thinking was that yuu has been in the manor for awhile, she always sees a locked door that she just can help but be curious about. Whenever she asks about it they tell her to bind her business, one the door was unlocked somehow (maybe someone forgot to lock it again after visiting idk) and she goes in to look and she finds us! The only sister of the Sakamaki family! (If it could be platonic Yandere that would be great) and you can go on from there bc idk what to add or the reactions of everyone would be 🥲 also sorry if this still isn’t any help I’m not sure if this is still confusing

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI

Note: I completely understand, no worries!

PART TWO: here!

Synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers.

Pairing: Yandere! Sakamaki brothers x platonic! sister reader

Format: Scenario

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

Only a few weeks had passed since Yui Kamori’s arrival, and she truthfully wanted nothing more than to return home. Where she didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. Her skin ached, practically screaming for salvation after undergoing endless amounts of “punishments'' for even the smallest of actions.

But today, no one was here. At least not at the moment, leaving her to relax until her heart’s content. With that said, the young human teen decided to treat herself to a walk, around the manor of course. After all, she had yet to see even half of the wonders (horrors) that were the Sakamaki household and she was more than just curious. 

Door after door: open, close; open, close. It was a never-ending cycle of boredom and disappointment. She had almost given up, concluding that there was truly nothing extraordinary happening behind closed doors. But that was before she saw it. Yui stumbled upon an unfamiliar door with a unique gold plaque just inches above it, serving as its most noticeable dissimilarity from the others.

The door was nothing special. It was wooden with gleaming gold imprinting smoothed between every crevice. But it stood out nonetheless. Yui slowly dragged her eyes along its surface, taking in its somewhat feminine appearance. Above it rested a large golden panel, inhabited by intricate calligraphy neatly engraved into its exterior; reading “Our treasure: [Name]”

Yui reached out, allowing her fingertips to subtly graze the cool doorknob, mere moments away from twisting it open… 

“You know, it's really impolite to go snooping around someone else’s home, little bitch~!” The sound of Laito’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. His tone was light but lacked the playfulness it tried so desperately to convey. “Allow me to escort you back to your room, fufu~.” 

Reluctantly, she followed, allowing the vampire to steer her further and further from the mysterious door; then down the hall, and back to her room. Her newfound curiosity outweighed her feeling of fear, despite Laito’s troublesome grip on her arm.

And she couldn’t help but wonder…

Just what was behind that door? Who is [Name]?

So the next day she tried her luck once more. Swiftly abandoning the security of her room, Yui proceeded down the dimly lit hallway. With the door close in sight, she noticed hushed whispers growing more audible by the second. Lo and behold, it was Kanato. 

His pale cheek pressed flush against the door's wooden frame, sweet yet borderline obsessive affirmations spilling from his thin lips. Yui assumed he was talking to himself, as far-fetched as it seemed. Though she wouldn't put it past Kanato of all people.

That's when she heard it. The faintest voice reached her ears, it was feminine and loving; and very clearly a blessing to Kanato's ears. She was sure he was ready to squeal with joy if not for the very slim amount of dignity he retained. Never had she seen him happier. 

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips and before she knew it she was staring fondly at the scene. It wasn't every day she saw those sadistic men act so sweet and vulnerable, even if it was a little odd. Her dazed state didn't go unnoticed, unfortunately, as lilac hues met her soft rosy ones. 

“You—?!” The vampire practically screeched, trudging down the hallway towards the human girl. “Just how much did you hear?”

Let's just say she was left with more than just a few bruises, poor girl. 

The next day Yui ventured down that same vacant hallway. The old floorboards threatened to groan under her weight as she approached that same door that haunted her dreams.

“Haah…You really are a troublesome woman,” Yui jumped, startled. At her side lies a familiar champagne-haired man, tired and less than amused by her appearance. “This room is off-limits for brides. Even so, I've never met one as nosey as you. Leave while you can.”

The girl was stunned, shaking like a leaf. When did Shu get here? Why was he here? Her suspicions were creeping up on her like an unruly wave threatening to sweep her under any moment. At that moment she had finally realized, It wasn't just a door. 

I think.

But of course, curiosity killed the cat. 

Having grown tired of being caught, tied up, and punished time and time again Yui tried a distant approach; she had no choice. Her fair skin had grown battered and bruised, adorned by more lacerations and pricks than she could count. So as one does, she took her chances and decided to confide in Reiji. 

Entering his room, Yui politely took a seat across from the man at a polished deep oak wood table. Accompanied by freshly brewed tea set evenly between the two. “Reiji,” Yui commenced, though her words came as an airy puff as her nerves threatened to tear through her light bravery. “I…I've been curious about something as of lately. A door in particular,”

His red eyes narrowed significantly, “Go on.”

“All the guys have been acting kind of strange lately every time I get close to it and—”

A firm hand made contact with her chest, successfully knocking the wind right out of her, slamming her into the harsh cushioning that lined the leather sofa. “Enough; That is none of your concern, you are merely a living blood bag,” He sighed, sending her a menacing glare. “Don't allow your curiosity to push you to do unnecessary things. If you disrupt the peace of those I hold dear to me I shall punish you personally, do you understand?”

The mortal nodded and swallowed sharply, briskly maneuvering from the vampires prying gaze. And much to her surprise, he allowed it. Yui rushed to the door before slipping through its slight opening, down the hall, and then back to her room once more.

Someone Reiji cared for was behind that door, and from the looks of it, there was no way it was one of his brothers. So who? 

No matter, at that point, Yui had given up. She was scared shitless, not wanting to undergo any more torture than she already was. She had a sneaking suspicion that the brothers were slowly losing their patience with her and she didn't want to be there to experience the consequences. 

So the next few days were carried out like any other. Today she was spending her time with a certain redhead, mindlessly listening to his narcissistic rambles.  As they turned down a familiar hallway, she glanced to the man at her side. Ayato walked past the door without a care in the world and made her start to second guess herself.

Perhaps her gaze lingered on the door for a second too long, for a certain redhead had noticed her delayed footsteps. “Oi, pancake what the hell are yo-?” He paused, his face growing visibly sour as he followed her eyes. “...Looking at.”

He scoffed, gripping tightly onto her frail wrist. From the looks of it, he was not pleased. 

“The last thing I need is for more competition, those five assholes are more than enough.” 

His hushed grumbles were like sirens to Yui's ears, igniting the dying flame of determination in her chest. That was all she needed to hear as nothing from that point on could prove her suspicions false. There was definitely someone behind that door. 

However, it seemed her luck had already run out. 

Until one fateful day at least. 

A sliver in the door, so small it was almost unnoticeable. Feeling some sense of urgency the girl jumped to her feet, making a straight beeline to the wooden door before slamming it behind her. The subtle sound of someone clearing their throat dragged her from her internal celebration. 

The woman looked to be no older than sixteen, but she knew better than to believe she was any younger. Her silky hair was tied neatly out of her face, with very little makeup brushing her features. An extravagant rococo-styled dress fell to her ankles as she busied herself with a thick novel. Only when she met her eyes did Yui notice the resemblance the woman shared with the brothers. 

“A mortal girl,” The woman said, almost matter-of-factly. “You must be the sacrificial bride, correct? Yui Kamori, I presume.”

She nodded, so slowly that she seemed unsure, causing a jovial laugh to slip through the beautiful woman's painted lips. 

“I see…you’re not much of a talker, are you?” The woman smiled politely before closing the book that rested in her hands, lazily tracing small circles into its cover. “No matter. Answer me this, how did you get in here? Subaru must've forgotten to close it, he's in here quite often, after all, he's such a big baby.”

“Wha…What?”

“That door is never open so I think you know what I’m hinting at.” The physically younger woman leaned toward the mortal girl, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “As for Subaru, I'm a little bit older than him so he tends to cling to me like his life depends on it!”

Yui gave her a look of blatant confusion, hardly catching onto whatever the young vampire was spewing out. “Hm, you look a bit confused and clueless, let me help you.” The woman smiled, whispering her rude comment dismissively “Do you even know why I’m in here?”

Yui shook her head, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away at her composure. Gradually shying away from the woman's attention as she hugged her sides. 

“Oh my, then this should be a real treat.” She giggled, gazing fondly at the frightened girl. “Now, Yui Kamori, allow me, [Name] Sakamaki to tell you a tale of endless obsession!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle. 

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now. 

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name. 

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,” 

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily. 

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth. 

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children. 

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her. 

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow. 

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence. 

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove. 

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?” 

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows. 

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times. 

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious. 

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings. 

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod. 

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room. 

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them? 

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget. 

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that? 

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is. 

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning. 

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye. 

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver. 

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. 

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices. 

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach. 

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away. 

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind. 

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous. 

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close. 

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that. 

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

[ravenwriter16]

Hello EVERYONE!!!! This is part one of my new series, 'Creative Minds Think Alike!'

In these small snippets I will highlight some of the coolest (at least in my mind) DCA (or other, who knows) content creators!

SO think of these as a HUGE thanks to these creators for all their cool art, stories, and little worlds that they decided to share with all of us! You guys are awesome and I hope to get to your level of talent one day!

You can tell I'm not that good because this is not beta-read!

If you don't like my writing or story idea, then don't read Just a heads up, I will edit or straight up delete a fic episode if the creator I featured took offensive with how I presented them and their AUs. My intent isn't to mock or belittle them or their works

So here you are my fellow void travelers! The pilot fic episode to the series 'Creative Minds Think Alike!'. Featuring the amazing @missterious-figure! Enjoy!

The castle halls at night were truly a gorgeously horrific sight to behold. A person first trekking into this old and magnificent place would surely run away at the first shadow that seemed to move. At least the large windows allowed the moon to grace the hall with its ghostly glow.

Directly across from the windows are rows of doors, each one different from the last and never exactly the same as its neighbors. Each of these doors has a small plaque located either right next to the door, above the door, or on the door itself.

Currently walking down this strange hall is me. Good dawn, morning, afternoon, evening or night (or all of the above). I'm Ravenwriter Archivist number 16. But you can call me Raven if you want!

My boss calls me Ravenwriter16 because he doesn't want to waste breath on my title (His words not mine). I'm one of the many protecters of this castle. A Castle Archivist if you so will. I was given this title and job by none other than the Aligned Society of Creative Minds.

Not by my choice. They were short on time and randomly selected me, basically uprooting my life. For a time I was angry (and can you blame me?) but then I looked into the specifics of my duties and now I'm ready to work.

I'm no expert mind you. I'd just graduated from the academy and starting to get some control over my powers when I was shoved into this. But I love a good challenge!

But enough of this, I'm stalling.

I eye the plaques, scanning them intently. In my hands are two envelopes with containing letters I wrote earlier this week. They were for two of the millions of warriors living in the castle.

Two that I hand selected after spending hours scouring the resident scrolls (there are so MANY). I hope these two were as friendly as their scrolls stated.

After a few minutes of walking this ever-expanding hall, I finally find the door to the first warrior from my two chosen.

The door itself was made from a black natural material, not really wood, not really rock, not really metal. It seemed to morph between those three. It did have gold trimming woven into the strange surface. Above the door was a golden plaque with silver and bronze writing.

I take in a shaky inhale, rolling my shoulders and in turn shaking my wings. My black feathers bristling before settling back down as my wings fold into my back.

I tug at my black hood, making sure it was secured over my head. My eyes dart to my boots and I lift my feet up one by one to inspect them for mud and dirt.

phew...not even a speck.

Steeling my resolve (and accepting my possible death wish) I place my gloved hand on the door. I push the surprisingly heavy door open.

It creaks o it's hinges as it swings inward. the sounds of birds flying and water crashing startles me. I look into the room in awe. It was like someone took every biome known to man and mixed it all together to harmonize in this relm.

There was a desert in the distance to my left and a...a FROZEN WASTE LAND to my right?! Forest and grassy plains, hills and mountains?! This place seems to have it all.

I step inside and gently close the door behind me. To protect my letters I place them in my side pouch as I journey deeper into this world.

While trekking further and further into the room, my surroundings start to shift. Jungle recedes into moss covered, vine strangled stone. I could see stone arches and tapestries that have aged and withered over time.

I reach a clearing. The temple's main room. There was no ceiling exclude for the tree leaves. To my left was more ancient stone that opened up to the jungle more and to my right was a magnificent waterfall.

in front of me was a giant tree. It's roots weaved into a seat, a throne if you will. Carvings grace the wood, but they don't look man made.

My wings spread out in alarm when something brushes against them. Something smooth and cold. Whipping my head to my wings, I freeze and gasp.

A floating glowing orb floats in the air. Bobbing up and down in small movements. It moves closer to my face and boops my nose. My eyes widen and I laugh.

"Well hello there little one." I greet, cupping my hands underneath it. It flies down and rests in my palms. it glows a tad brighter and its color changes to a neon green.

It vibrates in my hand, a sign of its content. I laugh, "Wow. I've read about Relm Holders, but seeing one in real life is-,"

"Spectacular?"

I spin on my heels and face the throne. My checks grow warm and my wings puff up in embarrassment.

Sitting on the throne was an all-black, and I mean pitch BLACK, person with a...a uhm...

"I'm so SO sorry if this comes across as rude but uhm..." I tilt my head pointing at theirs, "Do you have a...square as a head?"

A single white eye with a white line over said eye (acting as the eyebrow) appears on the left side of their face. the eye widens.

"Oh, yeah..." the voice was feminine and held power.

I let go of the Relm holder and it zooms over to the stranger. No not a stranger...this was-

"Missterious-figure?"

"How do you know my name?" she asks, standing up. She holds the Relm Holder in her hand and I watch as scenes of hooves, horns, antlers, fairy wings (?) swamps, metalic colors shimmering with different color eyes, pass through the orb.

She blows on the Relm Holder and the orb evaporates into millions of fireflies. I follow some of them as they fly in spirals up towards the sky.

"Ahem?"

I snap my gaze up to her's and nervously laugh. "S-sorry. Allow me to introduce myself..."

I get down on my knee and put a hand on my chest as i bow y head, "I am Ravenwriter Archivist 16. I'm the-,"

"New watcher of the castle?" she asks with a tilt of her head. "What happened to Mr. Honer?"

"He was uhm...dismissed by the council." I risk a glance up at the. i yelp and fall on my bottom when I find how close they are. They look down at me with a raised brow.

"You are jumpy." she states calmly while i try to steady my heart. She offers her hand to help me up and I take it with a small smile.

"Thank you-AAAAAA!"

Hands grab me from behind and lift me up by my armpits. My wings flap in agitation as I'm turned around to face a golden feathered face. small blue feathers and long beautiful red feathers. White eyes shine in delight and mischief as they take in my face.

I stare in shock, mouth open. the being holding me laughs, "A new harpy from our beloved ruler~? Miss you shouldn't have!"

I yelp as I'm shoved into a very fluffy and warm chest. I try to pull away but the being, male I think, was too strong, keeping me in place with ease.

"Sun! Put her down!"

"But you made her for us, my queen! Why would I let go of such a lovely gift~?"

"She's not mine! She's the new Watcher-,"

I'm dropped immediately. I yelp and my wings spread out in pain. I stand up and rub my hip, "Oww..."

"I wish you told me that before I touched the dirty thing." Sun tsks, crossing his arms and swiveling his head to the side with his nose up.

"I'm not that dirty--YOUR TAIL!" My mumbling morphs into awe.

'What?" Sun glances at me with a raised brow. His eyes drift to his GORGEOUS golden tail feathers. "Did you get them dirty?"

I let his insult breeze over, too star-struck by his beauty. He smirks smugly and I hear Missterious-Figuren groan and roll her eye.

When she clears her throat, I shake my head, snapping out of my stupor. I face her, eyes averted and rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment.

"Please don't feed his ego. It's already too big..." she sighs.

"I'm your creation, darling~." Sun croons, sauntering over to Missterious-figure and draping himself over her. He nuzzles into her neck, his feathers around his neck bristling.

"Uhm," I hold up my two index fingers, "Should I come back later-,"

"No. No this is probably a good time to talk. Peacock Eclipse is out checking in on my smaller boys, and Peacock Moon is trying to get the jump on Centaur Moon...Again..."

I snort but I cover my mouth when Missterious-figure tilts her head. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. That's just hilarious to me...I mean after reading about your inclusive world and all." I nervously chuckle.,

"Cool." She pets Sun's head and he leans into her touch even kissing her palm. "Sooooo, did you come here to introduce yourself or-,"

"OH! Right..." I turn my attention to my side pouch. Some of items clinking together while I search for her envelope.

Sun perks up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans forward to get closer but Missterious-figure slaps him. He gasps and holds his throbbing cheek as he gives her puppy-dog eyes.

She returns his look with a pointed look.

"Here we are!" I pull out the envelope and hold it out to her "This is an introduction letter from me with more of my contact information in case you have any questions, complaints, or concerns about the castle. And there's also some papers that need your signature."

She takes it from my hand and turns to her left. She looks at me and smiles, "I take it you need these back by a certain date?"

My wings puff up as I nod my head, "Yes, but I can convince the council for more time if you're busy-,"

"You don't have to do that...If you'll follow me to my lounge, I can sign these papers and send you on your way..."

"That would be great, thank you." I return her smile with a small one of my own. I go to follow her when she starts walking but a towel flies at me, smacking me in the face.

I pull it off and glare at Sun. He harrumphs and points to the towel, his silver glove shining in the sunlight as well as his feathers. "Clean yourself. I don't want any of your filth getting on the carpet."

With that he turns his back to me and walks after Missterious-figure. I can't help but stare as he swishes his hips, his tail feathers glittering as he walks.

I smack myself in the face with my wings. I shake my head and bite the inside of my cheek. FOCUS!

I wipe my face with the towel to appease the giant...handsome bird man, then follow after the two.

I try not to look around that much. I didn't want to impose more than I already have.

I was happy that Missterious-figure was so opened minded towards this whole...'New Castle Archivist' stuff. But I know I shouldn't take her kindness for passiveness. Her form I saw her in was her...calmer form so to speak. At least that's what I assume.

If she saw me as a threat though...I would be dead in seconds. She was one of the Head Defenders for a reason...

I was too deep in my head that the walk to the lounge blurred by. It was still a ruin temple theme, but now there are couches, plush chairs, red carpet, and even some hammocks.

A small desk was pushed to the side and that's were Missterious-figure was looking over the papers. Sun was draped over a couch, pulling at her pants, trying to coax her into paying attention to her.

I stand awkwardly in the doorway, crossing and uncrossing my arms. My eyes lock onto the window that gave a spectacular view of the grassy planes. I see a herd grazing and is that a yellow unicorn-,

"Sun stop...Alright! This looks fine to me."

I turn my head to her. My eyes widen when she uses a bronze peacock tail feather as a quill. She dips the tip into a golden inkwell then leaves her signature on all the dotted lines the papers required.

She places the quill back into the inkwell and pats the papers so that they were evenly stacked. She turns around and walks towards me, Sun whining that she was out of range of hold.

She holds out the papers for me to take. "I'm impressed with how these all fit in that tiny envelope."

I take the papers with a small thank you, "Yeah, nothing a little compact spell could fix. Thank you again for signing these. I know paperwork isn't the greatest of things to do...."

Missterious-figure shrugs then groans when Sun whines for her again. She looks over her shoulder at the dramatic harpy. "Behave or I'll cut your time short and hand out with Reptile you."

"No~!" Sun whines giving her puppy eyes.

She rolls her eye and looks back at me with a tired smile. I smile back and turn to leave, "Thank you so much for your time."

"Don't mention it."

"If you need anything, feel free to stop by my mushroom."

"M-mushroom?" she blinks at me and I give her a confused stare. "What happened to the Archivist office?"

"Oh that!...I destroyed it...It was too cramped for me..."

"Right..."

"Thank you again, I'll see myself out."

"Stay safe. Some creations are known to sneak out." She sighs, "Especially my moon..."

"Got it." I give her a small bow and make my way out of her room. I wave at the fireflies as they flutter around me. I take one last long look at this magnificent room.

'Maybe working here won't be as bad as I thought..."

I sigh, chuckling to myself as I leave. The doors closing behind me in a soft thud.

***

That's the end of part 1!

Episode Two is HERE

Episode Three is HERE

Episode Four is HERE

Episode Five is HERE

Episode Six is HERE

Hope you've all enjoyed! Part two will be coming soon to a Tumblr near you!

Thank you @missterious-figure for letting me use you and your boys for this. Please contact me if you are unsatisfied with how I represented you in this episode!

Hope you all have a fantastic day/night! Stay awesome!

[feederheart]

The Greedy Queen.

CW: feederism, ssbbw, fingering

I could hear the ravenous gorging before I even stepped foot inside of the throne room.

The colossal oaken doors creaked open as the two heavy-armored guardsmen permitted my entry. Inside was a massive hallway illuminated by the morning sun shining through multicolored stained glass windows depicting the greatness of Gulosus, the ever-consuming empire. Treasures including armor, weapons, scepters, jewels, gold jewelry, statues, paintings, carvings, pottery, and even a crown once worn by my late uncle were scattered throughout the room either mounted on a pedestal, a stand, or a plaque. At the end of the hallway sat a massive throne decorated with glittering gemstones and shining gold pillaged from all over Gulosus. The throne’s occupant, Queen Aila, sat all six-hundred pounds of her fat, quivering body on said throne as two servants beside her fed her the bounty of the kingdom she inherited from her mother. She greedily reached her fat fingers toward a bowl filled with sweet, sugary fruit grown in the fertile plains to the south and nuts grown in the western valleys as she chewed on a roasted leg from a wild beast that roamed around the northern hills. She then took a swig of wine made from eastern shore grapes to wash it all down before digging into a decadent chocolate cake baked here in the castle; her meal was as well-rounded as she was. Her fat arms swung like pendulums as she reached for more and more food to shovel into her greedy mouth. Her round face, once the famous face that could drive kingdoms to war, had rounded out quite a bit; although her long, auburn hair and beautiful green eyes were still as flawless as ever, her cheeks and double chin jiggled with each bite she took off her food. Her bountiful breasts, massive belly, and juicy fat thighs threatened to rip and tear the tent-like silvery dress that she wore over her body, displaying each and every one of her corpulent curves. As usual, she was adorned in glittering gold jewelry and gem-encrusted trinkets, although it was clear that these had to be made to account for her fat wrists, neck, and ankles. 

I wasn’t here to watch another one of her greedy gorgings; if I were, it wouldn’t be hard to fit it into my schedule seeing as that’s all she does. I was here to deliver her tribute from my homeland, Mons; a vase full of goldbrew. Goldbrew is wine made from golden grapes that can only be grown in Mons. It is said to be the most delicious drink imaginable; at least Queen Aila seemed to think so. 

“OOH!” she squealed happily as soon as she noticed that I had walked in. “Have you brought me my brew?”

“Indeed I have,” I said, bowing before the queen with my arms outstretched.

The two servants ran over and grabbed the gourd before to take it to the queen for her consumption.

“You two, wait!” she exclaimed at the servants. “I want him to serve it to me.”

The two servants bowed and left the throne room.

“Bring it to me,” she demanded, pointing her finger at me and giving me a “come hither” gesture.

I stood up and obliged. Queen Aila’s fluttered her eyes seductively and watched as I brought over her goldbrew. I walked up the steps before her throne and stood right in front of her fat legs, smothered by her giant belly.

“For you, my queen,” I said as I tried to give her the vase.

“Pour it down my throat,” she ordered hungrily. “I want every last drop!”

“As you wish,” I replied.

I reached the vase over her belly and breasts to reach her awaiting mouth. I poured the sweet, succulent liquid down her throat and she gulped it down like a pig; she seemed to have mastered the art of stuffing her mouth without breathing.

I stopped pouring after about twenty seconds to let her take a breath. She moaned in pleasure as she swallowed, savoring the delicious taste of the goldbrew. Her legs seemed to shake ever so slightly and I swore I could see her hips gyrating. This was because goldbrew was easily the most potent aphrodisiac known to man.

I reached to her belly and began to rub it to help her digest her meal as I fed her dessert. With the other hand, I continued to pour the goldbrew down her throat, causing her to moan even louder. I slowly worked my hand down to the bottom of her dress and lifted it up; her juices were building up and running down her leg. I slowly slid my fingers lower and lower until they were between her fat thighs and worked my way between her vagina. I felt her sopping wet womanhood and pleasured her as I fed her the goldbrew, completely losing her in total ecstasy. She moaned and panted as I pushed my fingers deeper and deeper while contorting my arms so that I could do that and feed her the drink. Her fat legs twitched with pleasure and her back arched, pushing her protruding belly our even further. Finally, just as I was running out of goldbrew, she screamed and squirted all over her legs and my hand. Her juices dripped down to the floor as Queen Aila lay there, satisfied and full.

“I’ll fetch those servants and tell them to bring rags,” I said to her.

She was so lost in ecstasy that she did not hear. I simply bowed and turned around, satisfied with what my goldbrew had done to the queen. 

You see, none of the vases I brought contained just goldbrew as my uncle promised many years ago when he surrendered our lands to Gulosus. We couldn’t fight them head-on, so we opted for another path. Our golden grapes contain the aforementioned aphrodisiac that captivated not just Queen Alia’s senses but her mother before her as well. However, another ingredient we added just for them; a special spice that numbs the senses and strokes the appetite, slowly turning the drinker to a fat, hedonistic, and horny pig that would eat and fuck whatever is in front of them. As Queen Aila grew fat, lazy, and stupid by eating and drinking all day, my people were preparing to make their comeback and take Mons back. 

Gulosus will be sitting ducks because their queen is a fat, spoiled, pig of a woman who only cares about where her next fix of goldbrew is coming from. She’s perfect.

[guzhuangheaven]

This might not be a relevant question, but the internet has not been very helpful, so I'm willing to try my luck here. What are the treasures given to the Empress (most prominently seen in Ruyi, I suppose)? I know the edict and seal are two of them, but there seem to be more carried behind her whenever she uses the sedan and also some plaques of gold? At this point, any insight you could offer would be greatly appreciated!

The treasures given to the Empress includes:

jinbao 金宝 - the Empress’ seal. Others from the rank of fei and up also have their own seal but they are called 印 yin and not 宝 which literally means treasure. 

jince 金冊 - proclamation book. When titles are bestowed, the proclamation is recorded on golden tablets as a record, and in the Qing dynasty, these proclamation books are written in Manchu, Han, Mongolian, and Tibetan. This is why the proclamation ceremony are called cefeng. When the Step Empress was disgraced, Qianlong recalled both her Empress’ seal and the jince from her promotions to ranks of fei, gui fei, huang gui fei, and huang hou. 

These are the items that Li Yu tried to return to Ruyi in the drama at the end but she refused to take them back.

Ruyi also gets given a bunch of other stuff which makes up her guard of honour/procession later:

Which is basically all the stuff these people are carrying here:

The procession/guard of honour is basically just a show of status and the number of people/items they carry vary according to rank but generally includes various combinations of things like umbrella, fans, incense burners, gold vases, incense boxes, spittoons, basins, stools, gold cross-legged chairs, etc - i.e. to prove you have enough servants to just carry these things you may or may not need for a stroll down the lane. 

They definitely had more stuff when going out on longer trips. Here's a Chinese reference that lists things in full if you want muddle through some machine translation.

The name for the procession vary according to rank too:

仪驾 yijia - ceremonial procession of the emperor, empress, empress dowager

仪仗 yizhang - ceremonial procession for imperial noble consort and noble consort

采仗 caizhang - ceremonial procession for imperial concubine (pin) and consort 

(By the way, we must have gotten at least 5 asks over the years about the procession of honour and just been putting off answering any of them because the details are too complicated and requires too much brain power to detail. Here’s your short answer to anyone who ever asked this.) 

[crying-fantasies]

Racing date

Masterlist

When Sideswipe said he wanted a change of pace for game night you really didn't mind, in reality there was some expectation, a cybertronian game, a real alien game, the curiosity of how it worked was enormous.

The fact was, you didn't ask yourself if you could play a cybertronian game in the first place.

"It'll be fine", he said, "we'll have a lot of fun", he said, and you believed he was referring to only you two.

You were a little surprised, maybe a little confused, but your confusion paled in front of Sunstreaker's once he noticed you were seated inside of Sideswipe, of course, that surprise changed quite quickly to disgust, or that's what you can decipher from his tone "you got the human, here, to our race".

Sunstreaker wasn't asking, just flat out stating the obvious, Sides just ignored his annoyance, or was trying to get a rise out of him, "I got my friend here, yeah" his engines revving, moving around inside his alt mode, everything seemed to stop when he twisted you inside of him, moving all that he was and putting a very scared and fascinated you on his driver seat, "and my friend is going to kick your tail lights".

Was it the first time Sideswipe used you as a way to enrage Sunstreaker? Well, not really, he seemed to do it frequently but more in the "you're here with me" than "you're with us".

No matter the case, Sunstreaker is fast to make you less than you already feel, "are you really letting the human ride you? Have you no shame?"

Was it the first time you heard something similar to amusement on Sunstreaker's voice? It seemed like it was that at least, it was difficult to read him, know the subtle way his tone would fluctuate, not really doing or showing much on alt mode; but Side's decision, even when you remind him you don't know how to ride a car yet, is proclaimed silently when his seat belt puts you in place, wheels moving fast while all Sunstreaker can do is vent in exasperation, his pretty, clean wheels move slowly, finally choosing to let his brother have this.

"Don't worry your pretty helm", Sides whispers, "I'll take care of him, just relax and enjoy the ride".

But Sunstreaker is Sideswipe's brother, and he shows it, while in different ways, as he pokes his brother's own ego, "Not even with a driver you would beat me", and so, all bets are on as you can only have so much little time to hold onto Sides' driver seat.

A few minutes after, it was total chaos.

It was another calm night, no decepticon activity, just some casual human doing what they called pickpocketing and what not, but his peace was cut short.

"We need enforcement! Two vehicles without plaques are-!", just in front of where Prowl was parked he saw two very familiar Lamborghinis, going full speed as the golden one heads first to full speed just to be tailed for the red one and then 2 police cabs all along he could hear a human screaming inside one of the cars, horror downed on him when, at least for slow clicks, he got a glimpse of the human that lingered close to the twins in a regular basis inside of the red Lambo, holding to his steering wheel for dear life, "-we need help! ANYONE THAT CAN HEAR ME! THESE FUCKERS AREN'T NORMAL! THEY DRIVE LIKE SOME POSSESSED SHITS!"

Prowl had just some moments to really try and understand what was happening, still under the stupor of the absolutely mess he just saw which was really bringing up some fragments of how Kaon was before the war, with all about the illegal street races done not only by speedsters, his computer did the math as he knew the Sporters twins were way more sturdy and able to do pretty bad damage with only opening a door in the worse timing.

Prospect of Designation: SIDESWIPE and Designation: SUNSTREAKER end up being captured: 0.56%

"IF NEEDED OPEN FIRE TO THE DRIVERS, SOMEONE STOP THEM"

Occurrence of Designation: SIDESWIPE and Designation: SUNSTREAKER react to the persecution with 12% of physical force: 2.08%, occurrence of Designation: SIDESWIPE reaction to dangerous factors directed to Human subject #4: 87% chances of physical protection to Human subject #4, probability of using lethal force: 31.4%.

Prowl only had a moment to think to himself before entering his internal communication, "Prime, we have a problem".

"What-"

"Someone was THREW from one car to the other, DON'T LET THEM GO!"

"These are parkour psychos, I'm telling you!"

Bullets in the distance made him grimace and the leader to ask if everything was fine, Prowl finally turned on his own lights and sirens, following the ruckus, hearing Sunstreaker shout in Kaonian things that would take him to the bridge for undefined time if Ultra Magnus was present, Prowl didn't need his tactical computer to know that the humans may have scratched him.

Prospect of Designation: SUNSTREAKER using physical force against the humans: 49%.

Just in cue, Prowl had to evade a flying police car and both twins from crashing him, Sideswipe winding, now being the one shouting obscenities and Sunstreaker driving backwards, the human now on the latter's cab, nursing poorly a leaking olfactory ridge with both hands over it, he tried to comm the twins, declined in every chance, both were overcharged ominously, their EMF showing off murderous intent for different reasons, and he could only count with Optimus to stop them from blowing everyone's cover or from exacting vengeance over the human, "make it two".

[vibratingskull]

Could I maybe get Thrawnxfem!brothel worker,something something alien biology and mating

It will be a 2 parter cause I can't segway my way to the smut organically, enjoy the romantic fluff of the first part.

“Hurry up! Get in ranks!” shouts the Matriarch.

You and all your brothel’s sisters run to place yourself in the Grand Salon, a large room richly decorated in a royal fashion, so different from the quarters reserved for the prostitutes. With gold and forest green tones, large lavish sofas and long wall hangings, this room clearly tries to mimic the atmosphere of the Imperial Palace without really succeeding. Not that you could know what the interior of the Imperial Palace would look like. A low ranking whore like you doesn’t really get time or permission for cultural leaves.

You rearrange your hair as you run in the corridors, flattening your short dress with your colleagues next to you, wondering who might have come at the brothel to cause such agitation. Usually when a client comes, they get a sample of the harlots, maximum ten prostitutes presented to them, but today, all 50 prostitutes are being hurried to the Salon. 

Who might have come to cause such a commotion?

“Move away, you!” You’re being pushed against the wall.

Daniama and her gang walk past you with laughter, with heavy make up and golden jewelries, they are the creme de la creme of the Brothel, young, fit, exotic, beautiful… They brought a real fortune to the house and in two or three tricks they should be able to buy their freedom away from the prostitutes' neighborhood and pay their debts to the Matriarch. You envy them terribly. You are a lower class harlot, not being picked much, still in outrageous debts up to your neck. You doubt you will ever leave this house, at least until your youth wither away, then you will be thrown out in the streets of Coruscant, alone.

You bite your inner cheek.

“Hurry up!” Barks the Matriarch, “Don’t keep him waiting!”

You place yourself hurriedly in line, next to your friends of misfortune. Daniama and her gang are placed forwards, in a spotlight for the client to see them first. They will again be chosen tonight, leaving all your other sisters arms dangling without any cash infusion again. 

“Silence, girls! Lower your heads, we have a VIP guest tonight, do justice to the house!”

Daniama giggles, freeing her mane and deepening her cleavage. The armada of prostitutes behind her is just here for decorations, here to embellish her and her friends even more, a prop to their success.

“Do you think he will buy the debt of one of us?” She asks her gang, they laugh excitedly in response, holding hands.

Your own friend nudges you with a comforting smile. You smile back at her in the same fashion. That’s right, once they are gone you will have more chances on your own. Do not despair!

A man enters the room and immediately silence takes place.

You raise your eyes discreetly to see him. It is a tall man, taller than anyone in this room, with deep blue skin and glowing red eyes. He wears a white military uniform but you can’t make sense of his plaque.

“Welcome, Grand Admiral.” The Matriarch salutes him with a sweet voice and a smile “It is an honor to see you.”

You lower your eyes immediately as he looks over the room. Never meet a client's eyes until they choose you…

“Well, I just hope to find what I came here for. You are not the first establishment I visited today.” He lets her know, hands clasped behind his back.

“They always say that, but they always come back to us after.” She assures him.

“We will see about that.”

“Let me show you the girls, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I am sure we have the perfect product for you!” She gestures to him to approach, taking support from her cane.”This is Daniama, she is the pearl of the establishment, she is very well versed in all the pleasure techniques and will satisfy you in every possible way.”

He takes a step further, observing her intently. You can only see her back but you imagine her smiling boldly at him, looking at him in his eyes despite the interdiction. She does a small reverence and he simply takes her wrist and pulls it to his nose.

Is he… sniffing her?

He frowns and releases her immediately.

“No, she is not what I am searching for.” he simply states.

The Matriarch winces, it is uncommon that Daniama gets rejected. She presents one of her friends to him instead and he repeats the operation.

Same results.

You don’t know what he’s searching for but la creme de la creme isn’t useful today. He won’t find anything else here.

He starts walking among the rest of the prostitutes, blatantly ignoring the rest of the gang. He stops here and there, breathing in the scent off the wrist of some girl while the Matriarch presents her to him, but none pleases him. The more he tries and fails, the more displeased his expression gets. He’s losing precious time here when he should be planning important military campaigns!

You lower back your head when he enters your rank, walking calmly among the commoners. His boots resonate in the silent Salon, intimidating everyone. Your eyes are fixed on the ground when his black boots enter your field of vision and stop in front of you. 

You hold your breath.

“She comes from a lesser establishment. I am not sure she would be suitable for someone of your stature, Grand Admiral. She is still quite inexperienced and not up to the standards of the House yet.” the Matriarch warns him.

He takes your wrist delicately. 

His skin is so warm…

He deeply breathes in your scent and you regret not putting on perfume today, after a long day of work your musk can be significant.

He freezes completely.

You purse your lips. You just hope he won’t make any comment.

He breathes in again like to be sure of what he just sniffed.

His hand grazes the back of your head and forces you to tilt your head and expose your neck gently. He leans forward, his warm breath blowing on the skin of your neck, deeply inhaling again. He then parts from you, his fingers sliding under your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

He’s handsome. With delicate and haughty features, an assured gaze and a massive stature. Despite your better judgment your eyes meet and you immediately get lost in them. They are wonderful, like jewels…

“This one.” He just says and leaves immediately, letting you dumbfounded and arms dangling.

Your friend hugs you with a laugh as you catch back your breath. 

“Well hurry up, (y/n)! Don’t keep him waiting, go prepare yourself!” The Matriarch chides you curtly.

You run back to your garret, passing on the dress reserved to your clients. You quickly comb your hair again and brush your teeth.

“Maker, hurry up!” The Matriarch shouts again.

You exit your room and she seizes your arm to push you through the corridors of the house. She guides you towards the biggest suite of the establishment, and looks terribly nervous. Arriving in front of the door, she picks specks of dust of your dress, flattening the fabric and checking your hairstyle 

“Listen, this is a Grand Admiral, you must please him and bring fortune to the House. This is an incredible opportunity, so be nice, be obedient and don’t forget to smile and thank him for whatever he does.”

She then knocks on the door and pushes you inside.He’s sitting on a comfortable armchair, a glass of wine in his hand, looking at you. You immediately kneel.

“Sir.” You lower your head in submission.

You hear him snarl as he sips his wine.

“Stand up and raise your head.” 

You obey. Your eyes meet again and you feel inextricably called by them. They are so beautiful…

“Approach.” He says softly, extending his hand to you.

You walk up to him and take his hand, his thumb brushes the back of yours and he inhales your scent again with a satisfied grin. You let him do it, a bit curious.

“What are you doing, sir?” You ask, trying to understand.

“I scent your pheromones.” He just answers casually, like it is a mundane occurrence.

You frown, his nose is very human-like, can it really pick up pheromones? He must have different olfactory receivers than yours.

“I am sorry, I did not have time to put on perfume.” You explain.

“That is quite well. It would have twisted my reading.” He tenderly kisses your hand.

You shift your weight, a bit troubled. You are not used to “nice” clients, they rarely make any efforts towards the girls they purchase. They prefer an obedient, silent girl and don’t embarrass themself with courtesy.

“And what are you reading?” You ask lowly, like a dirty secret, remembering your job.

“Exactly what I was searching for. My Von'ot.” His thumb keeps brushing your hand so tenderly it embarrasses you.

You smile with your best doe eyes and sit on his laps, letting the cut of your dress reveal your thighs to his gaze. You kiss the back of his hand and place it on the warm flesh of your thighs, inviting him to caress and explore your skin like a good prostitute would but his hand remains unmoving.

“And what is your Vonotte?” You ask with your temptress voice.

“Von'ot.”

“Yes, Vonotte.”

“No, it is pronounced : Von'ot.” 

You wince.

“That’s what I said: Vonot!”

He shakes his head with an amused expression.

“This is not quite right, you must pronounce : Von'ot.”

You purse your lips. He was supposed to focus on your sexy voice and disposition, not how to pronounce a word!

“Well, whatever it is pronounced, what is it?” You flatter him.

Always showing interest in what the client says, whatever he says, pretend it is the most fascinating thing you ever heard. You start unbuttoning his collar to gain access to his neck and start kissing it. 

“In Basic you will call it a mate.” He sighs deeply.

You stop. 

You part from him, frowning.

“Like a… friend?” You inquire suspiciously.

“No, dear one.” He grazes your cheek with his knuckles.

Those little physical displays of affection really start to stress you out. Usually you would already be in bed with his cock deep inside you and you would forget about each other the next day. But this…

Like he’s trying to sweeten you.

He’s about to demand something from you, something he was rejected for in the other Brothels, something so ignominious no other harlots would do it.

It’s always like that with non-human clients…

You look at him with heavy suspicion, holding your breath.

“Like a sex partner for life. A soul twin, a companion in life.” He explains.

Your frowns deepen. You are so suspicious now.

“I came here to find my other half.” He keeps caressing your cheek with some fondness in his eyes.

You are fully creeped out.

“What do you mean?”

“I propose you to buy your contract to your Matriarch and take you from this life of prostitution and uncertainty.”

All your nerves are on fire. Is this some kind of sick joke? Luring an escape to a desperate woman to mock her?

“You are not believing me.” He simply adds.

“You will understand it is quite hard to believe such a thing.” You just respond between your teeth.

Is it rich people's humor? A thing you’re too poor to understand? Coming all back there and having a laugh at people’s misery?

“I admit it, but I am genuine in my offer.” 

You stand off his laps and take some steps in the suite, hugging yourself.

“Why would you do that in the first place?” You mumble

“Because I want my mate at my side at all times, to live with her, to enjoy her presence and revel in what she has to offer.” He patiently explains, slouched on the seat like a king.

“What would make you think a human prostitute could be a proper mate to your species? Humans don’t have mates.”

“Your pheromones indicate you are compatible with me. Perhaps it will not work out, but I am willing to try, the question is : are you?” 

“That’s…” You bite your cheek “That is a lot to take in.”

“I understand it.”

“What if I say no?”

“I will leave you be and search for someone else compatible with me.” He takes a sip of his drink.

You bite your thumb. If you say no, someone else will be saved and you could say goodbye to your only chance to leave this life. The offer is tempting, but could you trust him? He’s a soldier after all, you give them little credits.

“I don’t even know you.” You counter “How could I trust you? Maybe you’re a psychopath in search of its next victim.”

“I admit you can give little to no credit to my story.” He raises from his seat without pressing himself “But you should find intel on my personhood on the holonet quite easily. It should paint you a broad portrait of who I am.” He slips right behind you and you feel his warm hands pressed on your arms, very gently, caressing your soft skin. “But you might be more interested in who I am in private…” He murmurs so softly in your ear, you feel his warm breath grazing your thin skin, making you shiver.

You spin on yourself towards him suddenly, taking him aback.

“Alright, and how would it go exactly?” You inquire.

You are terribly tempted, it is a unique chance, your ticket out of hell, but you should make sure you won’t end up in another one.

“You would live with me on my ship or my Corusantian apartment when on leave, you would cater to my needs. All your own needs will be taken care of, as your expenses. You will have your own room and privacy, manage your own money, you will be free to follow your own career and spend time with who you want. You will pretty much be a free woman.”

“Pretty much?”

“You will be tied to me for life.” 

You bite down your nail again, mind speeding. 

“And those needs I should cater to, what are they precisely?” You investigate.

“Primarily my sexual needs. But I also research a partner in life, a comforting and friendly presence-”

“Oh, you want a sex friend.” You understand suddenly.

He seems to wince a bit at this mention.

“If that is how you humans call them. Do those “sex friends” share a soul bond with their companions?”

“Maybe not.” You admit.

“Understand that I search for a partner for life, it is not a light decision.” He explains.

You think about it for a minute before asking.

“Let’s pretend I accept, we share a bond, yadda, yadda, yadda… What would happen if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Usually mates fall in love with each other.”

“Probably, but we humans don’t operate like that. So how would it go? Would I be free enough to pursue them? Will you chain me to you?”

“In theory, it could happen, indeed.” He reflects “I would not refrain you from sentimental fulfillment with another person, you should just make sure that they are okay with you having sex and sharing a deep bound with me.”

“And what if I invite them to the bedroom with us?” You half-jokingly ask.

“I would oppose that idea.” He shakes his head “I will not tolerate to share intimacy with another person than my mate.”

You purse your lips. Having a romantic life is forbidden in the prostitute district, and without being overly romantic yourself you always dreamed of finding your own love, your beloved, your sweetheart.

“So, in your package deal we ultimately fall for each other?”

“Am I that displeasing to your eyes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” You temper. “No. It’s just that it severely limits the options.”

It’s true, he’s a very handsome man, you won’t be against falling in love with him theoretically, but you don’t know what the future holds.

He holds his chin, like he is pondering the circumstances.

“Hmmm. I suppose you are right. I always thought I would fall in love with my Von'ot, but if I choose a human, maybe we could make an exception. Even if I doubt it will ever happen, accepting the bond is quite a soul changing experience.”

You lick your teeth, lost in your thoughts. 

What do you have to lose at that point? It would be crazy to accept, but it would be as crazy to not take that chance and slowly die in that district.

“Are there other things I should be aware of beforehand?” 

“My species goes through heat and rut cycles, that is why we need compatible mating partners. Ultimately, those natural processes for the goal to produce an heir, therefore I would most probably ask you to bear my child, is that acceptable to you?”

You always wanted a baby.

Not now tho, you’re way too young for motherhood.

“The question should be : do you mind them being interspecie?” you demand “I think that would be the problem for you.”

“ I do not mind in the slightest.”

“Then I think I’m cool with it too. Just not now, I am not ready to be a mother.”

“I understand perfectly. I myself am not ready to start a family.” He nods his head. “My kind also has some kind of… exotic features compared to you humans. You should be aware of that.”

You shrug, you’ve crossed paths with so many aliens, nothing can surprise you no more.

“I should be able to manage.” 

“Is that a yes, then?”

You inhale deeply.

“Yes. I accept.”  

The die is cast.

“Wonderful. Let us start, then.”

He seizes your face and leans forward to kiss you. By reflex you back down.

Kissing is a no go for prostitute, the only thing you would not do with client, the only intimate act reserved to loved ones. You only kissed once with a young lover in your teen years, before you get enrolled in a brothel.

“But… What are you doing… Sir?” 

He tilts his head.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Didn’t you want to buy my debt from my Matriarch?!” You ask, lost.

“I will, but there are more present matters to attend to right now.” He takes your hand and places it on his groin. It was hidden by the long white jacket but it is swollen and warm to the touch, since when is it hard like that?

“Did you think I would not take you to bed?” He asks, amused by your confusion.

“I lost track of that with the discussion.” 

He gently kisses your temple.

“I want to seal the deal as soon as possible. It has been years since I started searching for you. So many places visited, but you were not there.” He peppers kisses and pecks all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. “You really made yourself desired.” 

“I am sorry?” 

“It is quite good. You are here, finally. And I cannot wait to tie myself to you, feeling whole for the first time in my life.”

He leans forward again and you evade him by instinct.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, puzzled

“No…. I mean, it’s just… Kissing is the only intimate act we reserve for our true lover.” You explain.

He considers you in silence for a minute.

“You are not a prostitute anymore. You are a free woman, free to love whoever you want, and kiss whoever you want.” He says, like it resolves years of conditioning.

“I guess, it’s just… I have to get used to it.”

“Let me put it this way : Do you give me the permission to kiss you?”

You look into his eyes, they are so clear and assertive… They’re beautiful fireballs illuminating the dim room. He’s so gorgeous, so handsome, so soft and gentle… But you want to be sure, is he gonna keep true to his words if he doesn’t get what he wants? Is he gonna respect your consent?

“I would rather we wait.” You admit.

He takes back your hand and kisses the back.

“Then we will wait, dear one.”

“What will happen if you get in a rut and I’m still not ready?” You investigate.

“I will take care of everything myself like I used to all these years.”

“Thank you…” You let out in a breath.

“Thank you.” He takes back his coat and put it on. “Follow me, we are going to see your employer.”

He doesn’t take you to bed?

“We are not gonna do it?” You ask perplexed.

He shakes his head slightly.

“No. If you are not ready to kiss me, you are not ready to have me in bed.”

He extends his hand to you with a soft smile, waiting for you. You consider his blue palm, it looks so soft and inviting…

You take it and he squeezes your hand.

“Let us go from this place.” He says, eyes already focused on the future.

You look at them enthralled.

And realize you can’t wait for the day he can kiss you.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching

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[nebula-lad]

Dancers in the Rotunda

Hello, happy February Fanfest Day! For this year's @jatpfebfanfest, my giftee is... @lyxchen! I hope you like the fic and art I made, and I hope anyone else who reads this enjoys it at well.

Read it on ao3

“Willie, I know you like breaking the rules, but this feels a bit much…” Alex says quietly, worried he’ll get caught if he’s too loud. 

Willie had decided to invite Alex to another hangout (definitely not a date, why would Willie want to go on a date with him) to boost their spirits amidst all the chaos of Caleb possessing Nick and the boys being almost-but-not-quite-alive. But he’d failed to mention that they were once again breaking into a museum, but this time in the dead of night, making Alex feel like he was accidentally going to rob the place, and be caught by James Bond or some crazy character like that.

Willie’s chuckle brings Alex out of his thoughts. “Relax, Hotdog. It’s not like anyone can tell us what to do. Not here, anyway.” He grins, grabbing Alex’s hand and pulling him along.

The two ghosts stop their wandering in the hall of artworks made by 19th century artists. They look around in awe at the art, fascinated by the glimpse of the distant past they were given. Alex finds himself drawn to a particular painting, lost in the scene as he stares at the ballet dancers within it.

“‘Dancers in the Rotunda at the Paris Opéra’?” Willie asks, reading the plaque next to the painting, then standing next to Alex. “I didn’t know you were into Degas.” He smiles, playfully knocking into him.

Alex huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t know that’s who this was by. I just felt drawn to it. Like I was in the scene for a bit.”

He nods. “What about it draws you in?”

“The dancers.” He explains. “I want to be with them. When I was younger I wanted to be a ballet dancer, and I read up on everything I could about the subject. I used up my allowance before saving for my drums to pay for records of The Nutcracker and Swan Lake and all those famous ballets so I could memorize them and their stories. I wanted to be that so bad…”

“But… you ended up in a rock band filled with rebels instead?”

Alex sighs quietly. “Yeah. My mother and father… They didn’t appreciate my passion for feminine stuff like that to say the least, and wouldn’t let me get lessons. But what I did have access to was music class at school and very determined friends.” He chuckles. “I became a rebel by proxy.”

“Nah, there’s no ‘by proxy’ with that sort of stuff.” Willie laughs as well, then looks at the painting quietly for a moment. “I’m sure you’d be a great ballet dancer, by the way. You’d look stunning up on stage.”

“I- What?” He looks over at the ghost by his side, only to find a soft smile and a genuine shine in his eyes.

“I said you’d look stunning.” He says casually, looking over at Alex. “I’ve never been to a ballet, but I’d go to one if you were in it.”

Alex stares at Willie in shock, trying to figure out if this whole situation is a dream. He never imagined being flirted with by a guy about his childish dream of being a dancer. All the times he’s admitted this to others, it had been met with teasing or denying. Not flirting, and definitely not flirting from a very cute guy who’s also a dancer (even if the dancing was maybe against his will).

Willie watches the light blush form on Alex’s face as he processes the compliment with an amused smile, and goes back to looking at the painting. Now that Alex has told his story, Willie sees the painting in a new light. He can imagine one of the dancers being Alex, golden hair glowing softly in the dimly lit studio as he practices his twirls and leaps and all those ballet moves that had strange French names Willie could barely pronounce. It seemed like a thing that was made for Alex, like playing the drums or wearing pink or being cute and funny and just the greatest. He looks back at the boy in question and smiles softly again. Maybe now…? “Hey, Hotdog-?”

Alex shushes him quickly, and in the silence he hears the footsteps of the night guard coming over to their hallway. Alex’s eyes widen in a panic, adrenaline coursing through him as he grabs the other ghost’s hand and pulls them towards a small alcove, hidden from the view of the guard. He takes a minute to catch his breath, then looks at Willie to find that he’s staring at him with the ever-present shine of amusement in his eyes, and maybe the shine of something else glistening there too.

Alex glances around his face, taking in all of his features as the guard's footsteps get closer and louder, or maybe that’s his phantom heartbeat getting loud as his gaze settles on Willie’s lips for a moment before looking back at his eyes. Willie’s hand that’s not gripping Alex’s own settles on the shoulder of his pink sweatshirt, feeling the other’s hand lightly touch his cheek. 

Next thing Willie knows, Alex leans forward and softly pecks his lips. It’s only a moment, but it’s enough to steal both their breaths away. Their phantom heartbeats grow louder once again as they let go of the other’s hand and pull each other into a much more passionate kiss.

Alex feels euphoric. Not only has tossing his anxiety away led to something good this time (instead of, y’know, death), but he’s now kissing his crush and the prettiest guy he’s ever seen, and this guy is kissing him back. He definitely feels like he’s dreaming now, with Willie clutching his sweatshirt hood to try and pull him impossibly closer and his hands running through Willie’s hair.

Eventually, though, Alex comes up for air he doesn’t necessarily need but doesn’t want to go without, and the two boys knock their foreheads together, sounds of breathing filling the silence. They look into the other’s eyes for a minute before Willie lets out a soft laugh. “I think the guard’s gone.”

It’s quiet again before they both burst out laughing, realizing the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

“Oh my gosh, we kissed for so long the guard’s gone.”

“Dude, you hid us away from a lifer that can’t see us.”

“I did? My anxiety really got the better of me…”

“It led to better things, though.” Willie grins at the other ghost.

Alex flushes, and covers his face with his hands to hide it. “Willie…” He whines, realizing that that whole thing really did happen. His eyes widen. “Oh gosh, wait, was that ok? Like, were you ok with that? It’s ok if you weren’t-“

Willie cuts him off with a soft peck and smiles. “It’s totally ok, Alex. I promise.”

Alex nods the tiniest bit, then after a beat throws his arms around Willie in a tight, comforting hug. Willie lets out a surprised noise, then grins and hugs him back.

They stay like this for who knows how long, neither wanting to let go until they had to. Alex lets go first, and sighs quietly. “Um, I should go. The guys are probably worried about me, and I’m sure you have things to do. So…”

Willie blinks. Oh, right, he works at a club of ghosts run by the worst guy ever. He doesn’t get to spend all his time with his- uh… “Can I call you my boyfriend?” He blurts out, not even thinking about the sentence before it’s out in the open. He feels his face flush now.

Luckily, Alex laughs a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” He says, giving his now boyfriend a warm smile.

Said boyfriend grins, and gives him another peck. “Alright, go. Your band probably misses you.”

Alex nods and poofs out of the 19th century wing of the art museum, leaving Willie alone with the 200 year old paintings of landscapes, people, and a particular one that holds a trope of ballerinas practicing for their latest show. He looks at the painting once more, and smiles softly. “Catch you later, Hotdog.” He whispers before poofing out as well.

~~~

When Alex suddenly appears in the middle of the garage, Reggie lets out a sigh of relief as Luke angrily pouts on his couch. “Holy crap, there you are! We were worried about you!” Reggie says, hugging his friend.

”Woah, was I really gone for that long?” Alex asks, patting Reggie’s shoulder as he looks to Luke.

”Yes.” Luke grumbles. “You left in the middle of movie night, without telling us, and then showed back up after the movie ended! We were in the middle of Jurassic Park!”

”Luke, dude, we’ve seen Jurassic Park a billion times, no thanks to you. It’s not like I was missing anything in the movie.” He sighs. “I’m sorry for not saying something, though. I just thought you guys would make fun of me…”

”Why would we do that? We’re your friends!” Reggie frowns up at him.

”Yeah, like you haven’t done it before.”

”Where did you go?” Luke asks.

Alex frowns slightly, trying to figure out how to explain what happened. As he thinks, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down at the floor to hide it. “I… I went on a date with Willie.” He mumbles.

Luke goes slack-jawed as Reggie squeals with delight. “You ditched movie night to be with him?!” Luke stands up, bouncing around from either annoyance or joy, Alex couldn’t tell.

”It’s a completely valid reason to ditch!” Reggie says. “Besides, you’d probably ditch if you had the chance to go hang out with Julie. You’re no better than Alex is.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but he quickly closes it, knowing the bassist is right. Reggie then turns to Alex again, an excited smile on his face. “So, do we get the deets? Did you guys scream in a museum again?”

”Uhhh…” The drummer squeaks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Well, we did go to a museum again, but no screaming. We talked about the paintings and what we liked and…” Alex trails off, his face flushing red again. “I might’ve kissed him.” He mutters under his breath.

The two boys cheer like they just got their best gig yet. “Finally! Alex, we’re so happy for you.” Luke grins, going over and jumping up to try and wrap his arm around the taller boy’s shoulder, with Reggie nodding along.

”Thanks guys.” Alex smiles a bit, feeling a bit embarrassed still but also relieved that his friends were excited for him.

Reggie gasps. “We should go tell Julie, and Ray and Carlos! They’ll be super happy for you too!”

”Ah, maybe we should wait until it isn’t, like, two in the morning to go and tell them.” He suggests.

”Ohh… Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Luke chuckles. “We should still celebrate. Alex, what do you wanna do?”

The drummer thinks for a minute. “Well, it sounds like I owe you guys a movie. We could watch whatever you guys want to choose.”

”Nope, no no no.” Reggie interjects. “This is your celebration, you get to choose. That’s the rule.”

”Oh.” He mumbles. He didn’t usually choose the movies the three of them would watch. It wasn’t like he didn’t have favorites, he definitely did. He was just worried that the guys wouldn’t like what he chose, or that they’d just make fun of his taste. But… if letting go of his anxiety can lead to a date with his crush and getting to call his crush his boyfriend, then he could choose a movie he loves and not worry about what his friends think. “Let’s watch The Princess Bride, then.” Alex says.

After agreeing, the three boys sit down on Luke’s couch while Reggie turns the movie on. Alex pretends not to notice when his band mates get highly invested and find that they can’t peel their eyes off the screen. He also pretends not to notice the next morning when Julie comes into the garage, telling the three of them to wake up, that Luke replies with ‘as you wish’. He also notices a certain long-haired skater boy come into the garage during band practice, but this time he doesn’t pretend not to. He instead decides to make it everyone’s problem as he poofs over and kisses his boyfriend, thanking him for the night before.

[garbinge]

Tribute

Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & OFC Manny Reyes From these August Prompts:  “Tribute” A/N: A little angsty moment for my favorite little fictional family. Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Mentions of death, drinking/being drunk, prison, loss of a family member, very angsty, sibling issues.  Mayans MC Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705

The door creaked and the noise echoed throughout the empty church as Manny made her way in. In one hand there were flowers, her mother’s favorite, in the other hand was a note. She was the only one there, she hoped that’s how it’d stay, but she also knew better. 

As she made her way up to prayer candles, she stopped at the pew that had her mother’s name etched on a golden plate. Her hand moved slowly over it, remembering how simple times were back before her passing. Remembering how difficult they were in the days after. 

Angel and Felipe were the only two Reyes in the church. In fact, they were the only two people in the church at all. The memorial service for Marisol wasn’t much, just a short mass followed by the blessing of the plaque that would sit in the pew Felipe and Marisol would find themselves in most Sundays. 

Now, after the frequent church goers and few friends of the family had left, Angel and Felipe were standing alone in the pew while the other two Reyes were elsewhere. EZ had a reasonable excuse to miss his mother’s memorial. He was sitting in prison, where he’d be for the next 20 years, at least. Manny on the other hand, well, no one knew where she was. Angel had called her a few times, Felipe didn’t bother. Angel wasn’t sure if they were standing here because Felipe was waiting for Marisol’s angel to appear or if they were waiting for Manny to show up, either one would be classified as a miracle. 

I guess, everyday holds the possibility of a miracle. Manny came stumbling into the church. Felipe’s head didn’t turn the way Angel’s did. Angel’s eyes fell on his younger sister and he immediately knew she was drunk. Now, Felipe was on the move, walking the middle aisle to the exit of the church. He stopped when he came face to face with his daughter, leaving a kiss on her forehead. Felipe was a silent one but Manny expected him to say something to her, anything. She knew he had to smell the alcohol on her breath, the fact she was late, there had to be something he wanted to say. But there was nothing, he just made his way past her and a few minutes later the sound of a car starting filled the silence in the church. 

“You missed everything.” Angel spoke up now stepping through the pew. 

“And yet I still haven’t missed nearly as much as our little brother has.” Manny pointedly spoke to Angel. 

“Manny don’t do this.” Angel was walking towards her now, less aggravation in his voice and more sorrow. He reached his hand out to her. 

“No!” Her hand pulled back in defiance of her older brother. Angel towered over her now, but his face was filled with worry and shock that almost made him look smaller than her. “How the fuck can you stand here? Next to dad? Honoring mom? When our little fuckin’ brother is behind bars.” She shook her head, tears starting to fall down her face. Her voice was loud, it echoed in the church, it echoed in her own head, it echoed in Angel’s as well. Now she spoke quietly, the tears streaming from her face in a constant flow now. “We were supposed to protect him. We were supposed to be our brother’s keeper. There–there were 3 of us, we should have protected mom.” 

Angel stepped forward and engulfed her into a hug. Manny protested at first, her fists slamming against his chest, the sobs coming from her mouth were ones of agony. “Manny, stop it.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because I’m your big brother, I’m tryna be my sisters fuckin’ keeper right now.” Angel’s voice was full of care despite it being frustrated. 

At that, Manny stopped protesting. She let her sobs out while Angel stood their with her, letting a couple of his own tears out. 

After a few minutes, Manny let go of their embrace and stepped forward towards the cross that was front and center in the church. Angel didn’t follow her there, just took a seat in the memorial pew. 

“Has he let you visit him?” Manny was staring up at the cross with her head tilted. 

“I haven’t gone.” 

Manny didn’t turn to look at him, even though she wanted to. She wasn’t shocked, but her heart definitely sunk hearing Angel say that. 

“He won’t come out, I went to see him today. It’s why I’m late. I sat there for an hour waiting for him and he didn’t come out.”  Manny shook her head and moved over to the candle, pulling out a few quarters to put into the coin slot to receive the match to light the candle. 

“You gotta let him process.” Angel tried to defend EZ. 

“And us?” Manny turned around now in a swift movement to stare at Angel, waiting for a response. 

“I don’t know, Manny.” Angel leaned back more in the pew, more relaxed even though he definitely wasn’t. There was a little pride in Manny feeling like she stumped him out of a response. “We keep living our lives.” Angel’s hands lifted up in an effort to display his cluelessness of what to do. 

Manny turned back to the candles, a deep breath being inhaled in at Angel’s words. Before responding, she struck the match against the sanded surface and placed it inside the candle. Her eyes closed for a few seconds, a silent prayer being said as the candle wick caught the matches flame. 

She pulled the match away, waved it against the air next to her to put it out and tossed it in the match disposal bin. Her hand moved to her necklace and grabbed the locket and brought it up to her mouth and kissed it. “Te amo, Mami.” 

She made her way back to the pew and plopped down next to Angel, leaning back just like he was. 

“Is that how you do that?” She pointed to the prospect kutte he was wearing. “Is that how you keep living life?” 

“Yea, it is.” He shook his head, trying to guage his sisters mood.

Manny hated it. It was more the idea that this group, this club, this gang was going to be taking the only brother she had left away. It meant more of a chance he’d get locked up, more of a chance he’d die. Just, the risk was higher. She had seen how the president of the club treated Angel, she had seen how they pulled him away from her grieving family. Little to her knowledge, she’d eventually come around to the club, or least some of the members in the club, she’d see the benefit of it all and how that somehow outweighed the risk but in this moment, it was new and she hated it. 

Her eyes fell upon the plaque that was now bolted to the pew, the holy water still not dry on it and sitting as droplets on the etched words. In loving memory of Marisol Reyes. She would have hated it. Maybe that was also why Manny felt the need to hate it, let her mother live on. 

After a few minutes she was standing up, back in the middle aisle staring at the exit doors. 

“Next time you come in here, don’t have that shit on. Have some fuckin’ respect for our mother.” 

Manny didn’t look at him, just began walking towards the exit. As she pushed the doors open, she was met with her car gone, and Felipe’s truck still here. 

The forehead kiss. He must’ve reached into her pocket and grabbed her keys. Angel was now standing next to her, his hands in his kutte pockets. 

“Pops took your car.” It should’ve been said as a question but he was just being a dick about it. 

“I’m guessing you have the truck keys.” She spoke to him similarly, should’ve been a question but came out more as a statement. 

“Should make you walk home.” Angel said, stepping to the car as he shook the kutte off his shoulders and threw it through the open window of the car. “But instead I’ll take you to get food.” He called out to her as he hopped into the truck, turning to her and waving his hand to rush her over to the car. “You just gonna stand there or what?” 

“You just gonna stand there or what?” Angel’s voice made Manny look behind her bringing her back to the present moment. 

“I’m not talking to you.” She turned back around, her hands crossed over each other as she stood in front of the statue of Saint Francis. The flowers she brought now split up in three smaller bouquets. One in the designated spot for memorial flowers, one in front of St Francis and one in the pew. 

“C’mon. Don’t be like that, Manny.” Angel responded back to the girl. 

“I’m surprised this place isn’t going up in flames behind you.” Manny said with an eye roll. 

Angel made a face behind her, one of mockery and irritation. 

“Francis was mom’s favorite saint.” EZ’s voice was the complete opposite of Angels, it was serious, like what he said meant something significant. And maybe it did, maybe what he said held some sort of significance and importance to it, but Manny didn’t care. She was mad at both of her brothers, she hadn’t seen either of them since before her apartment had gotten broken into to, she refused to see either of them after. It was their fault that it happened and while she could get past that, she couldn’t get past both of her brothers leaving her out of shit. Both of her brothers didn’t have their kuttes on, the one request Manny had that they both listened to without argument or comment. But it didn’t matter to the middle Reyes. She was still pissed at them both.

“Yea because she had two fuckin’ dogs as sons.” Her voice was ill-mannered to say the least. 

“For someone who said we were gonna burn this place down by entering, you’re quick to curse in the middle of a church.” Angel said his statement so matter of factly. 

“For someone who said you’d keep me in the loop you’re doing a shitty job of it.” Manny now turned around and practically bit Angel’s head off. Her frustration really bubbling over it’s limit now. “And that means you too.” Her eyes jumped to EZ before moving to the pew to sit down. 

“Mom wouldn’t want us fighting.” EZ followed Manny and sat next to her on the right side of the pew. 

“Mom wouldn’t want any of this.” Manny mumbled it but with how quiet the church was, both of her brothers heard it clearly. 

“Mom wouldn’t want you cursing in church.” Angel sat down to Manny’s left mumbling his statement as well. 

“Your mother would smack each one of you upside the head for your behavior.” Felipe’s voice caused all three of them to turn around. 

“Sorry Pop.” They said in unison, the only thing the three siblings had done together in a while. 

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.” He was walking past them and to the candles to light one. 

“Sorry Mom.” They all spoke in unison again. 

Felipe didn’t linger at the prayer candles and made his way in the pew behind the 3 siblings, sitting down just behind Manny. He spoke at a whisper, saying a pray in spanish that all the other Reyes’ bowed their head in respect to. After that and an amen from them all, they were retreating to the church’s exit. As they stood outside, the sun beaming down on them, Felipe stared up to the sky. “You’re all taking me to eat. And you’re going to act like you don’t fuckin’ hate each other because it’s your mother’s birthday. Afterwards, you can go back to whatever it is you’re fighting about.” 

And with that, he was walking to his truck, getting in on the passenger side which meant he expected Manny to drive since the brothers had brought their bikes. 

“Meet you at Panadería La Fé?” Manny’s tone changed completely, for her father, she would do this, it was only an hour, maybe two. 

“What about Casa Romero?” Angel’s tone hadn’t changed one bit. Still whiney. 

EZ and Manny both looked up at him, EZ’s hands lifting up slightly as if to say “what the fuck, bro?” without actually saying it. 

“We’ll meet you at Panadería La Fé.” EZ confirmed and with that, they were off. With any luck maybe the hour of them getting along would push for them to actually get along, or at least a step in the right direction. But, none of them were holding their breath. 

[mypromptlair]

TCF Prompt 25

38 year old Kim Rok Soo has lived a hard, tiring life on earth, all he wants to do with the rest of his life is to slack and live a comfortable life.

So when he awakens in a new body(and name), in a forest next to a beautiful field, with a system and some elementals by his side he takes it surprisingly in stride. There was nothing left for him on earth after all, but perhaps with this he can finally achieve his dream! Especially with how well his goods, etc eventually sell for.

Is what he thought. He should have known it was a giant red flag when things started off so well. Now he is suddenly a guardian to 3 kids(2 cats and a dragon he somehow saved), has a persistent protective knight/ex-hero(who also transmigrated here, and isn't that a story in itself...A old hero forgotten for 100 years who defeated a man known as the white star), a ex-assassin and his son who is a chef who moved themselves in without asking, a crown prince who is insistent on forming a contract with for his wares(hello golden plaque), along with many others.

Aigoo, his poor life.

-------

He goes by "Cale Thames" at first, he is not blood related to the Henituse's. But when Deruth meets him when he goes to set up his farm, etc, he believes him to be his old friend Jours son, so has him put under his protection, etc. And he becomes Cale Henituse if wanted.

Choi Han defeated the White Star when he first transmigrated, however he never seemed to age and eventually left normal society and soon became nothing more but a old tale for children. One day he had fallen and hurt his foot after saving two kittens from the Cat Tribe, which eventually lead them to Cale.(He does find out Cale was formally Kim Rok Soo. He is both happy and sad, as he was friends with his nephew who had passed).

The AP's are the elementals/cheats Cale was given. The System was created by GoD.

Cale still has his 'adventures', but there's no big war he has to fight(tho somehow he helps the civil wars with Toonka and the Whales, ugh). He still overworks himself and coughs up blood and makes himself sick on occasion much to the worry of everyone around him.

He doesn't know why Ron and Beacrox suddenly appeared and moved in to help, but they are not leaving anytime soon..at least he has delicious food...the lemons..not so much and he could do without. But...it's..kind of nice..to be taken care of in such a way...

Cale is still adopted by Eruhaben, Ron and Fredo(and Henituse fam).

Cale and Alberu are sibling and scammer team goals.

Lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, and of everyone finally finding a family and a place to call home(and if they happen to all slowly heal from all their past traumas along the way, then even the better).

....Cloeph still somehow tries to start a religion for whatever reason. Cale is not impressed.

[cemeteryreviews]

Church Reviews #2 - Santuario Nuestra Señora de la Salud Páramo

This is a much smaller church compared to those in neighboring towns, but it earns a lot of points for its stained glass windows and green-and-yellow tiled floor, two things that I really love. Additionally, since the main street where it's located is still made of stone, it blends in much better with the scenery. When you see it from the outside, it feels like you’ve traveled at least a century back in time.

The yellow and green tiles are charmingly quaint. Stained glass windows are the most beautiful things a church can have. The way they color the light from outside always gives me a certain joy in my soul. The roof isn’t even made of stone; it’s made of wood, but I still love it because it gives the place a cottage-like feel, just like the apartment in our house in our hometown. It’s a roof that feels even cozier than one made of stone or any cement building.

The red niches and pilasters, the green background, and the golden ornamentation and cornices make the altar look as ostentatious as possible, saturating your senses and giving the place a surreal and magical quality. It also contrasts quite a bit with the rest of the church. This is a quality you don’t see in many altars nowadays, but it’s essential in the design because it makes you say, “This place is special, a sacred site full of beauty.”

The clock in the center above the Virgin is a detail I love, and the pink bell tower makes it look like the church is wearing a pointed gnome hat, just like Wirt from Over the Garden Wall. The entrance also looks like it has a parapet and I love the hell out of that detail because it feels almost like from a castle. I don’t know much of the history of this church, aside from the plaque at the entrance stating there was a reconstruction in 1993. Even so, I found it to be a very charming church.

7/10

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 46

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n is sick, so there's a lot of napping here. As usual, there are shenanigans, too.

Author’s Note: Ok so my aim rn is to post at least once a month :'D Let's hope I can actually follow through...

Hope y'all enjoy, take care! x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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Although we left the tower from the main floor, Magnus brought us back through the teleportation hall. I’ve only ever been over here a few times, and it’s just as beautiful and dramatic as you’d expect a hall of cubbies with portals in them to look. 

Spotlights shine over each glowing floor crest. Dense ivy is climbing nearly every wall, because of course Magnus’ arborie extends down here too. Some worn-out, brassy plaques that once stated the location that each portal led to are fastened to the stone in-between each red velvet curtain, which are held up by golden rods. Some of them conceal the portals that they're intended to hide, and others are haphazardly bunched open.

As Magnus and I silently near the end of the hall, we both turn to each other. Something feels… weird.

“Do you hear that?” he asks into my head.

I furrow my brows, then shut my eyes, really trying to focus my senses. I hear… oh for fuck’s sake, is that— “Camilla?” I finish my thought back to the wizard. 

He sighs. His eyelids close. Takes a deeper breath, nodding. Mentally preparing for the confrontation, I assume. 

I wince, remembering how my other encounters with that witch have gone. I haven’t seen her much — just the day I met her, and one other surprise visit. None of it was terrible, I guess, but they weren’t the coziest experiences I’ve had to endure either.

My eyes widen as my thoughts jump to their next subject. Seb.

I whisper, “Fuck, she’s probably torturing the poor guy.”

Another sigh emits from my partner. Matching my volume, he submits. “Well, let’s get this over with…” 

I have to hide a grin. Is it sadistic of me to find his resentment towards Camilla kind of amusing? I mean, he’s typically so laid back, y’know?

While we quietly pad through the bookshelves and back to the room where we began today's activities, I try to focus on Camilla. Channeling my energy, and whatever… aaand…

Damn. Still can’t mind-read. I thought maybe the tension would, like, encourage it out of me or something…? I dunno. 

Maybe some other time.

Probably not.

Fuck.

Whatever.

A few more steps and I’m able to make out her words. She sounds just as unnecessarily sultry as I remember her. “Anyway, how have you been faring, tiger?” Tiger?! I stifle a laugh. “I never thought I’d see you around here again.”

“She must not have gotten here too long ago,” I observe into Magnus’ head, peering up at him as we slow to a halt just a few paces from the room our visitor is occupying. He nods in agreement. 

“If you’d like, you can wait upstairs. I won’t subject you to her if you feel uneasy.”

“Too late. Ripping the bandaid off!” 

Before Magnus can register what I‘ve “said,” I turn the corner. Camilla, probably having been fully aware of our presence for a hot minute or two, turns to me as if in cue. 

“Hey, sweetie~” God, does she have to say it so... seductively? I feel a light tingle in my cheeks and avert all eye contact as I offer a meek “Hi.” I see the witch peer behind me from the edge of my vision, and her grin turns more devilish as I brave her face again. “Razzy!!”

“Spirits protect me,” he murmurs aloud. “Camilla.” He pairs her name with a curt nod. 

She looks tickled. Camilla totally knows he hates her. She has to, I mean, look at them! The lady just knows how to make the best of it. I respect that, honestly. 

I look towards Seb, who looks absolutely exhausted. I wonder if he managed to get even a wink of sleep. As Camilla struts towards Magnus and I, with her focus plastered on the older wizard — thank god — I maneuver towards the couch and plop myself next to Sebastian. 

I can’t resist.

“Hey there, tiger~”

Seb deadpans me. “I will end you.”

I snort. “Sorry, jeez! You alright, love?” I whisper as he leans his head on my left shoulder. My corresponding hand instinctively draws upward, promptly running my fingers through his fluffy, pitch black hair.

He simply groans.

A soft chuckle escapes me, and I pat a kiss onto his forehead before dropping his fringe and leaning my temple against his scalp. I fidget with the shoulder of his shirt and shut my weary eyes, just enjoying the contact with Seb after today. There’s still plenty of daylight left, but I think the excitement combined with the wine has me feeling a little drained. I’m choosing to ignore the potential illness I might experience from skinnydipping in cold water and cold weather like a dumbass, good lord Magnus I would be so mad at you if I had it in me—

“You sleep at all?” I cut my thoughts off.

“Barely…” Seb grumbles, “By the time my body decided to cooperate with me, I had about 10 minutes before she appeared.”

“Hm��” I look up to the other spellcasters in the room, who have relocated from the doorway. Camilla still has her back to us.  “We can try and sneak up to Magnus’ bed for a nap while she’s distracted if you want,” I suggest. “Not sure how focused she is on listening to us right now, y’know?”

Seb sighs. Then, he nods.

“I’m sorry,” I invade Magnus as we stand up and tip-toe to the doorway. “Good luck down here. We’ll be in your room.”

I look over at Magnus, who peers towards us while Camilla focuses her attention to the long, glowy, fancy scroll in her hands. His face stays stoic, but his eyes light up at the sound of my voice; and as he nods his response, he offers a wink.

What does that wink mean? Was it just cheeky? Or does he think we’re leaving to, like, fuck or something?

“Don’t have too much fun without me, dear.” 

Oooh, he thinks we’re fucking. 

I’m pretty sure neither of us have any intention to engage in that — I’d envisioned more of a cozy nap together, perhaps — yet I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned from this morning, with Magnus walking in on Seb and I rather than it being the opposite. 

Phew. I need to think of literally anything else before I short circuit and walk into a wall.

I take Seb’s hand in mine as we wordlessly trek up the basement stairs and through the main floor. Feeling the new piece of jewelry adorning my hand, Seb raises it to his face as we walk up the next set of stairs.

“What’s this?”

“Magnus finally asked me out. Made me a fancy magic ring to go with it.”

“It’s about time,” Seb grins lazily, lightly teasing the absent wizard. “Looks pretty.” He presses a kiss to the knuckle just above my ring, lightly tugging me through the doorway to Magnus’ room. 

“You look pretty,” I quip back.

“I look like shit, actually.” He lets go of my hand and collapses onto the unmade bed, belly-first.

I wrap around to the other side — there’s more than enough room for both of us to sprawl — as I respond, “Still pretty.”

Laying down much more gently, I curl up on my side and away from Seb. “By the way, I might have a cold coming on, in case you wanna keep your distance. I don’t want to get you sick with how busy your work has been lately.”

The bed shifts slightly, and I feel fingers running through my still damp tresses. Mmmm this is nice.

“You two get caught in the rain or something?”

“No,” I sigh. “We went swimming…”

I head a light snort behind me. “Where the hell did he take you where it was warm enough to swim?”

“Bold of you to assume it was warm enough,” I respond, closing my eyes. Melting into the light scratches of Seb’s nails on my scalp, the feathery tugs to release the knots from my hair, the warmth of his fingers... “Same weather as here, basically,” I mention quietly, trying to break out of this comfy stupor. I sniffle and clear my throat before continuing, “It was a magical little forest clearing with a lake and waterfalls and stuff. Looked like it was ripped from Skyrim or some shit.” 

“Any creatures?”

“Only fish.” I hear a soft tut behind me and smile. He was probably hoping for some fancy new frogs. “They were cute, but I was secretly hoping a junimo or two would pop out of the woods to say ‘hi.’”

“I was banking on you meeting some fancy new frogs or something.” Called it! “That still sounds nice though. I’m glad you two had fun out there.”

I nod, scooching back towards Seb. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer, tapping a kiss to my head. I hum contentedly. Use my feet and lower legs to shimmy the blankets onto me. Manage to get them up to my knees before reaching down to pull them high enough to cover the lower part of my face. God, they smell so nice. Like Magnus, but with whatever detergent he uses mixed in. Some cottony type of smell. 

I feel some shifting behind me, and then my back feels a little warmer. Seb must’ve tucked himself in too. 

“Comfy?” I murmur, already feeling myself drifting off. 

He hums an affirmation, and it’s the last thing I can register before sleep takes me.

_______________

I wake to a baritone sigh from somewhere across the room. I keep my eyes shut. Sniffle. Notice how crunchy my throat feels, how my spit is almost too thick to swallow. God damnit I’m totally sick. It happened so quickly, too… maybe something about the magic? Who knows.

My gentle alarm clock pads over towards the bed, and I hear another noise – more of a huff, maybe of amusement? – this time. More footsteps. The bed dips in front of me. I feel the warmth of something hover over my cheek, as if hesitating, before it softly rests there. Then, it relocates to my forehead.

“Hm…” I hum, enjoying the feeling. This is so nice. One partner on either side of me. I feel so pampered.

“Are you awake, dearest?” Magnus whispers. His hand drifts back to my cheek, his thumb soothingly stroking it.

“Mhm.” That sounded so gross. I clear my throat and try again. Comes out smoother this time.

He observes, “You feel warm.”

Still too groggy to speak, I respond with another hum. Maybe that was more of a grunt. I dunno.

“Are you feeling alright?”

I shrug. “Probably just a cold,” I answer. My head hurts and this is only making it throb more, but it feels easier to do this than to speak for now. “No big deal.” 

He curses to himself. “I’m sorry, dear. My kind has somewhat of an immunity to most mundane illnesses. I didn’t think twice before encouraging you to join me for a swim.”

“Worth it.” Now that I know I probably can’t get Magnus sick, I remove my hand from under the covers, reaching blindly in his direction. When I feel his shirt in my grasp, I tug it, and with a quiet chuckle he nudges closer to me.

Probably not wanting to disturb Seb, he responds back into my head. “It was not worth it,” he lightly scolds. “I never want you to feel unwell for my sake.”

“It’s worth it to meee.” 

A voiceless chuckle escapes through his noise. “You’re silly.”

“I know. Now shut up and nap with is.”

“So demanding.”

I’m unsure if he’s watching me, but I raise a finger to my lips anyway. “Shhh.”

“Alright, alright.” A beat passes. “Actually...”

The bed shifts again as I feel the body in front of me vanish. I gather the strength to open my eyes, furrowing my brows as I glare up at him between two narrow slits. “That’s not napping,” I pout. 

Another chuckle under his breath. “I’m going to make some soup.” 

“Hmm.” I sigh, shutting my eyes again and scooting back a little more. Seb’s unconscious form tightens its hold around me. ”Fine… thank you, love.”

“Of course, my heart. Please keep resting – I will come get you two when it’s done.”

I nod, hoping he’s still looking. His light steps grow quieter, and the door shuts again. Seb exhales behind me. 

His voice groggy from sleep, he murmurs, “Oh my god dude, his face was so close to mine.”

I chuckle. “Sorry if we woke you up.” I answer verbally, then decide that it’s easier to keep at it telepathically. I feel so… eugh.

“Sorry if you can feel my heartbeat right now,” the emo responds.

“He had you that frazzled, huh?” I feel Seb nod, then continue, “Sounds like your feelings have evolved beyond just crushing territory.”

“You’re telling me…” His arm moves, his hand resting on my forehead. “Hm. You are warm.”

I repeat back to Seb what I’d told Magnus, “Probably just a cold.” 

“You’re awfully toasty for just a cold.” Seb’s arm lowers again, wrapping back around me. “Why don’t I stay at the farm for a few days? I can help out while you get better.”

I can’t help the smile that curves my lips, but shake my head. “No! You have your own work to worry about.”

“I’m sure Magnus wouldn’t mind splitting farming duties with me. We both know he’s good with plants, after all.”

“He has his own work too.” My eyes are still shut, and I’m still facing away from Seb, but my brows furrow. “Besides, I dunno how cozy I am with you both doting on me so much. Feels weird.”

“Yoba forbid we love you, or something,” he chuckles. I join him, but not without lightly nudging him with my elbow. “You don’t wanna miss meeting Krobus coming to Spirit’s Eve because you didn’t take care of yourself, do you?”

I groan. “...Fuck you. I don’t like it when you’re right about things.”

“Too bad.” He kisses the crown of my head, then sighs. “Want me to go grab you some tea?”

I shake my head. Scoot back a little more, then tuck my top leg between both of his. Reinforcing that I don’t want him to leave. Deciding my head is pounding too much to keep talking to him telepathically, I clear my throat, then tell him, “Magnus is making soup.”

There’s a pause before he asks, “…Where?” 

I think for a moment. I’ve only eaten an actual meal here, like, once, and that was when Magnus disguised his home for Abby’s potential visit. Y’know, when he conjured a whole-ass kitchen into the main room. Other than that, we usually order in or have little treats if we’re hungry.

“Huh.” I think harder. He’s gotta eat more than just takeout, no? “Maybe he keeps a hot plate or two in his cabinets, or… wait, no, the outlets are all taken by his string lights, and he’d never turn those off…” I pause, lightly coughing and clearing my throat before I wonder, “Where the fuck does he make food?”

Sounding more confused now, Seb asks, “Where the fuck is his fridge?” “Does Magnus… does he eat when we’re not here? Do elementals need food?” 

I turn my head back slightly, and see that Sebby’s expression is just as concerned as mine.

Without a word, we both get out of bed – well, I kinda roll out more than anything – and head downstairs. As if to sneak up on Magnus – observe him in his natural habitat, if you will – we tip-toe down to the main room…

Aaand he’s not there.

I turn around and jog up a few steps to see the hallway. 

Eyeing the spiral staircase – which I assumed led to a room that was full of artifacts and shit based on the fact that I’ve never been up there, and because why wouldn’t it be cluttered with various arcane wonders? – I think out loud, “Does he have a kitchen up there?”

Seb follows me. I look up at him as he reaches the step I’m on. Unsure of himself, he squints and tilts his head to the side a little. “Maaaybe?” 

He looks down at me. Filled with determination, we nod at each other and continue our adventure through this absurdly stereotypical wizard tower, which we’ve spent plenty of time in without knowing what is actually up there.

How the fuck have neither of us thought to look or ask?

Whatever.

I sniffle as we mosey over, and get onto the first step to try and peer up. Sniffle again, big style. Sounds gnarly.

“Gross,” Sebastian teases. 

I nudge him. “You’re gross.”

Without a response, Seb steps up to join me. The top is dark. Can’t see shit from here. 

“Should we check?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t want to go anywhere he doesn’t want us to, but—“ Seb is already ascending. “Oh.” 

I follow him up, hastily catching up to his longer strides. For some reason my heart is pounding, as if something bad is gonna happen. Haven’t had any premonitions yet, so that’s promising, at least. 

We get to the top, Seb whips out he flashlight on his phone, and—

“It’s just a normal attic.”

“Oh.” That was anticlimactic. “Well…” 

Head lowered, I take a walk of shame back down the stairs. I was so convinced something cool and/or mysterious would be going on up there. 

When we get to the bottom, now in the small corridor outside of Magnus’ room again, Seb takes a turn into the bathroom. He closes the door, but talks anyway as he pees. 

There’s something heartwarmingly domestic about this. 

“You think he got caught up in some business with Camilla again?” he suggests.

“Maybe. I hope everything is alri—“ I stop my words short as I hear the front door open. “Someone just walked in,” I mutter against the wood. 

I can’t hear Seb’s response over the sound of the toilet flushing, and tip-toe a few feet over where I can see the culprit. My eyes widen, watching as the wizard transfers takeaway containers of soup into some bowls he had stored near his workstation. I’ve been hoodwinked! 

“Magnus Rasmodius,” I announce, ignoring the surprised little jump he does as he turns towards me, “What the frick is that?!”

The wizard’s eyes widen and pinken, his cheeks flushing to match. “Erm…”

Seb steps out of the bathroom and peers over my head. “Oh, you dirty, dirty man.”

I cross my arms and lean back against Seb, cheekily glaring down at the wizard. A short silence passes. 

“…I cannot cook.”

My brows furrow. I slowly make my way down the steps with Seb in tow. “What, like, you don’t have anything to cook with, or..?”

He shakes his head, eyes still pink as he confesses, “I don’t bother to keep much kitchenware handy. My cooking and baking skills are abysmal.” 

All the tea, ramen, and other things that can be made by simply boiling water are beginning to make sense.

“Do you just buy takeout every day then?” Seb asks. 

With his brows lowered and his bottom lip being thoroughly chewed, Magnus diverts his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” I frown. “I wouldn’t mind cooking for you. Or with you, I mean, I could teach you a little.” 

“Is it not an utter embarrassment, though? To meet someone who can’t cook, despite having been on this earth for centuries?” 

“No!” Seb and I both answer. He sounds just as passionately full of worry as I am. “I’m not surprised, to be honest,” Seb tacks on. “With how much of your life you spend working, there’s not much time to learn how.”

I nod in agreement. I shuffle over to Magnus. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I look up at him, my chin resting just below his chest. “Let’s try cooking together when you have time, ‘kay?”

Hugging me back, Magnus peers down in surprise. “Yes,” his shock turns into a warm grin, “That would be lovely.”

Seb walks past us, grabbing a bowl from the counter. “Oh hell yeah, is this pumpkin?”

“Butternut squash.” 

“Damn.”

“They’re both squashes, technically,” I point out to Seb. “You get this from Gus?” I ask Magnus, punctuating my question with a sniffle. He, more maroon-eyed again, reacts by placing a soothing palm against my cheek. I practically melt into it.

“Indeed. It is always intimidating to go there, but he is a pleasant man.”

Seb, nodding along as he swallows a sip, chimes in. “Gus fucks.”

I snort out a little laugh. Magnus tilts his head, obviously confused. He doesn’t question it though. Probably had too much slang for one day. 

“How does it work with, uh...” I vaguely gesture in Magnus’ direction, implying that I’m referring to his appearance.

He snorts, reassuring me, “He and Emily are some of the very few who know the truth of my existence.”

“What about the other people in there?”

“I teleport directly to the kitchen.”

My brows raise and my jaw goes slack. I huff out a laugh, turning my head and lifting my elbow to my face as it morphs into a cough.

Before I can pry further, Seb asks, “Does that not scare the shit outta them?!”

“They’re quite used to my presence at this point.” He grins, his eyes turning pink as he adds, “I’d like to think we have a fond acquaintanceship by now.” 

Aw. I hope they do. He deserves friends besides cryptids and gremlins and basement dwellers! And if there’s anyone here who I think would be accepting of Magnus based strictly on looks and vibes, it would totally be Emily.

Changing the subject, Magnus places his other hand on my free cheek, bending down to kiss my forehead. I tippy toe to help him out. “Now eat,” he orders, his irises burgundy again, “before it gets cold. You need this.” 

I nod, situating myself next to Seb as I grab the two unattended bowls, handing one over to Magnus. I hop onto the counter and happily sip straight from the vessel. Gus does fuck, god damn this is good. It’s sweet and salty and creamy as hell, with the exception of some toasted seeds floating within it.

The rest of the day after this is spent taking it easy. After finishing my soup, I nap some more – Magnus lets me borrow a shirt to sleep in, so I don’t need to keep getting all tangled up in my skirt and sweater – and I opt to head home when I wake back up. Magnus insists on teleporting me there, but I walk, wanting to get some fresh air.

I changed back into my own clothes for the walk, but brought the borrowed top with me, insisting I’d wash it for him. That was only a half-lie. No shit I’ll wash it, but as soon as I got home, I tossed Magnus’ tee back on. Too comfy to pass on.

Seb and Magnus continued their training as I made my trek back to the farm and into my bed, and about an hour or two after I situated myself, my partners were already forcing themselves into my house to check up on me. 

Fucking dorks. I love them so much.

After ensuring to them that I don’t need anything extra, and begging them to stop fussing over me, the two of them clamor into my bed with Cannoli and I.

It’s a tight fit, and not as comfy as cuddling in Magnus’ bed, but this fucks too.