#Skylight Dinner

[hellonew-yorkgirl]

2. Die Bahnfahrt nach New York und ein erster langer Spaziergang auf der Highline

[smuttysabina]

A Month With Aespa (Ch 4): What Goes Ning In the Night

(Ningning x Male Reader, 3.7k Words) Tags: Diva sex, Spectacular sex, Surprise Sex, Anal Sex, Squirting, Like a lot of squirting, This one sure took a while to come out didn't it, More Aespa sex, Drama-ma-ma-ma-ma, The girls may not be in the back, but they are taking it in the rear, creampies.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Nothing can quite equal the sublime joys of waking up on a cold morning. The stuffy heat of your blankets, the faint glow radiating down from the skylight, the cool air against your face, the stiffness of your manhood, and perhaps most of all, the transcendent joy of someone's warm lips wrapped around it. You sigh, relishing in the sensation of your maid's mouth sloppily bobbing up and down your length, her body nestled between your legs. You feel another pocket of heat brushing up against your left leg, no doubt another one of your servants had wriggled her way under the covers to join the fun; and a passionate ménage-a-trois beneath the sheets was hardly a poor start to one's morning. You must admit though, that the lady hard at work between your thighs was unusually enthusiastic; gasping and slobbering noisily as she sucks you off. Somewhat bemused by her ardor, you pull up the duvet, cracking open an eye and glance down to see what all the fuss was about (not that you would complain of course, but matters were usually much more relaxed at the start of the day). You blink at the sight, and blandly open the other eye to provide reinforcements to your beleaguered first, hoping that would clarify the situation. Giselle beams innocently up at you, her hand pistoning the head of one of your maids against your crotch; who gags and squirms as she struggles to breath. You stifle a groan as pleasure shoots along your length, causing the idol's smile to turn predatory,

"Good morning, I thought I might help out a little, to make up for yesterday..."

Giselle smirks with serene indifference as she presses the maid's head down further onto your manhood, holding her down so that her nose is buried in your (nicely trimmed, thank you!) bush, "After all, dear Karina seemed ever so upset after dinner, and why, Ningning looked as if she were about to murder you!" The idol giggles demurely, "Not that Winter minded though, I'm sure she was feeling quite smug that she avoided getting her asshole despoiled- Oh, oopsie, I forgot about you." Giselle finally deigns to notice the maid who was now clawing at the sheets as she tried to pull up, her eyes rolling back as she labors to breath around your meat in her throat. Giselle blandly hauls the poor asphyxiating girl off of you, tossing her aside like so much trash as she gracefully slides herself atop of you. You groan as she smoothly mounts you, her sex devouring every inch of you until she has sheathed fully inside of her. You manage a pithy remark as your mind whirls, commenting on her unusual enthusiasm considering her conduct the day before. Giselle bashfully covers herself as well as a smile, her bared breasts squishing together most pleasantly, before answering your question by starting to ride you. Further interrogation is put on hold however, as she expertly maneuvers her way up and down your shaft, banishing any notions of matter more complex than the act of breeding.

The sex was quite different compared to your earlier dalliance with Giselle, instead of the sordid passion that had accompanied your forced anal coupling, she was now entirely professional and composed. If anything she seemed bored as her hips described non-Euclidean paths through the air that would have had your old physics professors frothing at the mouth (and no doubt masturbating furiously), her body performing gravity defying feats as she skillfully rode you. You reach up to grope her swaying breasts as they wobble enticingly around her chest, an act which seems to add a hint of enjoyment to her coolly mocking demeanor; not that it changed the inevitable outcome one iota. Unlike your meeting with Karina, which had transformed from a clinical milking into something more enjoyable, Giselle was this time utterly merciless in her technique to drain you. She completely disregarded her own pleasure, as she steadily dragged your unwilling balls upwards, fucking you as if you were nothing more than a practice dildo. But as you enter into the final stretch, she slows enough to plateau your building climax, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially, "So you are going after Winter next, hmm..." This non sequitur was sudden enough to cause your brain to click back into its usual habits, and you breathlessly request some advice on the matter then. Giselle stops cold, her waist bent at what must be a painfully angle as she stares at your incredulously, "Advice? I simply want to watch you fuck that cold bitch until she squeals," She resumes as suddenly as she halted, now with a bit more vigor than before, "I don't particularly care really, so long as you keep busy rutting with the others, which allows me to keep to myself." Giselle pats your chest without much affection, cocking her head as she feels your manhood begin to pulse rhythmically. At that she abruptly unmounts you, leaving your cock twitch against your chest in the cold morning air; her body twirling as she swiftly hops off the bed, striding gracefully towards the door. Giselle pauses at the doorway, glancing back at you with a mischievous smirk on lips, "What? I helped, a little," She leaves you with her delighted laughter ringing in your ears, as your member mournfully starts to shrink back on itself. It seems of late that your mornings have been quite unsatisfactory.

You leave your room with a mind heavy with thought, though not before tending to the poor dear who still lay gasping upon the sheets. It would have been ungentlemanly to take advantage of her after she had so valiantly braved asphyxiation; and more notably refrained from gnawing upon the delicate flesh filling her mouth. You ponder upon what Giselle had told you, and trusted her "suggestion" not in the slightest; no doubt she hoped to stir up more trouble as seemed to be her wont. You muse upon the issue as you take your breakfast in the library, peering out of the frosted windows as sunlight fills the sprawling gardens behind your residence. No doubt pursuing Winter would only needle both Karina and Ningning more than you already had; and while revisiting Giselle held a certain appeal, it would not mend your relationship with the other pair. Speaking of which... Karina had seemed oddly affected by the revelation that you had been with GIselle, and if anything Ningning appeared as outraged. She had been quite receptive that morning though, at least until you had started questioning her about the maid Giselle had ravished. Perhaps you should pay Ningning a more, attentive, visit then...

Though the sun had been shining for several hours now, the idol who cracked open her door bore little evidence that she had even bothered to leave her bed. The stale reek of alcohol invades your nostrils as Ningning squints unhappily up at you, peering suspiciously around her door. Her response to your cautious advances is nearly as crass as her appearances, "Shouldn't you be fucking that whore's asshole right now, or was even that hole too loose for you?", with that she once again slams the door in your face, leaving you somewhat piqued. Evidently there is little love lost between the two, or perhaps something else is at work here... So you return to the library, slowly wandering the bookshelves as you plan your next move, taking inspiration from the romantic titles gracing the novels there. You nod to yourself, before motioning a waiting maid over, and after jotting down a quick note, you direct her to take it to the recalcitrant idol. The maid scurries off, and you return to your perusing, running your finger along the spines of the books as you chuckle nostalgically upon remembering their sordid contents. You raise an eyebrow when the maid returns, the poor dear drenched with whiskey but most importantly, returned without your note. You thank the darling girl as best you can, hoisting up her skirt and plying her cunt until she gushes all over the floor; delicious. To tip the scales, you send another maid (the slut no doubt giddy at the thought of being rewarded for her troubles), under strict instructions to visit Ningning. With the trap baited, you merely need to wait.

An hour later Ningning swept into the library, her earlier slovenliness banished as the dawn dispels the darkness, now as radiant as the day she had stepped into your abode. Her sapphire outfit clings to her curves, its cascade of beads shining brightly in the noon sun, her makeup had been applied to perfection, her hair pulled back to roil down her shapely back. Ningning glares at you as you genuflect towards her as if she were of the divine, her foul mode seemingly undiminished as she demands your reasoning for requesting she join you. You attempt to sooth the furious idol, protesting grandly that it should be obvious, why should you not wish to be graced by such a beautiful lady's presence? Her eye twitches slightly, as rank jealousy passes over her face, "Have you not enough sluts to vent your lusts upon? Or have you tired of their slack holes already?" You murmur some soft platitudes on behalf of the other members of Aespa, and are rewarded with a look of smug superiority; it truly was that simple then... So with a submissive smile you beg of her to let you accompany her for the day, to allow you to bask in her radiance and wait upon her every need. Ningning preens at your grandiose declaration, no doubt unduly pleased that she has your full attention, and acquiesces to your request with ill-concealed delight. She puts her leg up on a chair, tastelessly dirtying its fabric with her footwear (though to be frank, that old thing was bleached white for a reason), inadvertently showing you a flash of skin, and grandly orders you to give her a tour of the gardens. However could you refuse?

With the haughty idol on one arm, you graciously escort Ningning through your expansive greenery, showing her all of the little nooks and hidden glades she missed when she rampaged through with her fellows days ago. There were dozens of intimate areas scattered throughout the gardens, where lovers could slip away into so as to enjoy one another in relative privacy; relative being the operative word here. Before grassy hollows, marble benches, and outdoor mattresses, you would pause and subtly inquire if the lady required your services, which Ningning haughtily refused of course, though your fervent attentions visibly pleased her greatly. Eventually she grew tired of erotic statuary and gently burbling fountains (which helped immensely in disguising the sound of vigorous lovemaking), and demanded a repast to sate her hunger. It was little trouble to organize a luncheon for her, the pair of you comfortable resting under an awning as your maids fill the small table between you with a bountiful spread, the harlots bustling to and from the kitchens to accomplish this feat. Meanwhile you and Ningning chatter amiably about a variety of topics, until she eventually begins to gossip incessantly about the girls of Aespa, which you listen to with rapt attention. Which invariably led to prying into your own encounters with the other idols, while the one in front of you leans back with interest, revealing a surprising amount of bare skin leading up around her crotch...

Ningning unerringly interrogates you about the other girls' performances, nodding amiably as you slowly tell her of your sex with Karina in the showers, and your much more brutal session with Giselle in the theatre, and then the unexpected pleasure you had with her this morning... The idol unconsciously strokes her thigh as she listens to how you had made love to her dear friends, smirking as you describe in detail how roughly you had take Giselle; evidently there was little love lost between the two. She smiles dreamily as she imagines how it played out, "You know, that whore gets turned on by shit like that, no matter how much she wails about it, if you just force yourself on her she fucking gushes," Ningning nods as she notes the realization in your eyes, "Oh yes, if you had just held her down and fucked her this morning, she would have loved it, you should try it more often," then she frowns, jealousy flashing behind her eyes, "I have no idea what Karina's problem is though, you should just avoid her if she's being difficult. After all," her expression growing smug once more, "why bother with her, when you could have me." At which Ningning leans back fully in her chair, opening her legs for you and revealing the glisteningly wet flesh between her lithe legs. She glances down before giggling seductively, "I knew I forgot something."

Your eyebrows are practically at your hairline, and you must admit that your pants are currently enduring a rather great amount of strain as you struggle to contain your growing arousal. You had thought that Ningning would require far more wooing before she would acquiesce to your intentions, that it would take a herculean effort to sooth her ruffled ego into submission. Instead she was practically gleeful as she flashed you, as if the thought of showing her fellow idols up aroused her to an unbearable degree. So you are more than pleased to simply watch with rapt attention as Ningning seductively slides her hand down her supple thighs, and you idly wave to dismiss the crowd of maids fluttering about. But the idol opposes their departure vehemently, as she arrogantly proclaims, "I require an audience," before starting to touch herself more sensually. And my, what a show she was putting on. Ningning's sex was as showy as her personality, with a prominent mons supporting a magnificently puffy pair of lips, squished together like a clam, opening eagerly to reveal the pearl within its gooey depths. She licks her lips as drinks in the sensation of being watched by a dozen people, reveling in being the center of attention as she seductively begins to pleasure herself. You are enraptured as the idol shamelessly masturbates in front of you, her performance as eye-catching as it would be on a stage in front of thousands, staring directly at you as her breath quickens and the sloshing noise coming from between her nubile thighs grows ever louder. With a pleasant moan Ningning climaxes, squirting spectacularly all over your brunch as her shuddering legs make the table tremble unsteadily.

A younger you would have filled your pants at such an arousing scene, embarrassingly wasting your precious semen into the fabric as you joined Ningning in orgasm. Luckily for you both however, your mast stood unbowed and undiminished (admittedly, you had leaked a fair amount, but that is not important), and as you wrenched off your pants to reveal it the idol looked entirely too pleased with herself. Of course, the dear maids around you both had fared less well than you, with several of them having produced their own messes on the stone tiles; four of them were still energetically going at it! No matter, as you rise to join Ningning though, the lady in question stops you, and instead saunters over and straddles you, the dark lips of her slit softly kissing your tip. Shaking slightly, you feel your hips treacherously thrust upwards, your member boorishly eager to feel the warmth of this diva wrapped around it. Smirking smugly, Ningning gently rocks her hips, smearing the head of your penis with her fluids, laying her own claim to your manhood; until with an indulgent sigh, she slowly sits on it. You groan as her fleshy folds swallow every inch of your cock, slathering it with her divine nectar and leaking more out onto your crotch. Your balls twitch faithlessly, only too eager to empty themselves into such a fertile woman, uncaring of the gentlemanly need to pleasure your partner. You needn't have worried much however, as Ningning starts to ride you it soon becomes evident that she is relishing this as much as you are. Moaning lewdly, she bounces vigorously atop you, her showy pussy slobbering fluids all over your stomach as she drowns your dick in her cum; her cunt was astoundingly wet. Soon her dress was soaked where it had pooled around the site of your joining, but neither of you were interested in removing it; the both of you aroused by dirtying such an expensive garment. Groaning, you grasp her waist to guide her movements, and to guarantee that this idol would not be jumping ship before you finished properly. But Ningning was as intent on receiving your seed as you were to giving it, and she keeps up her pace even as the first ropes of semen erupt inside of her. Both of your eyes roll back as your load paints her insides, even as she squirts so much it drips down out of the pool forming in your chair, her pussy spasming pleasurably around your cock.

Breathing heavily, Ningning wears a triumphant grin as she looks down at you, "I told you I was better than Karina, now let me put that whore Giselle in the shade as well..." Shivering slightly, the idol promptly unmounts you, staggering a little as a gush of your conjoined fluids comes out of her hole, before turning about and clambering back into your lap. Grasping your still-sensitive manhood firmly, Ningning promptly inserts the quivering length into her anus, letting out a modest yelp as it slides inside of her. With the slop of your previous joining still coating your cock, there was little need to worry about lubrication, which she swiftly assures you, "Fuck me harder than that bitch, I can take it better than she can!" You are hardly one to disappoint, so you comply with her wishes. Ningning's squeals of pleasure echo through the gardens as you relentlessly pound away at her guts, her cries loud enough to be heard over the burble of fountains; and much like a fountain, the idol was producing an impressive quantity of liquid. Stirring her clit constantly, she hoses down the pavement continuously, her fluids spraying wildly over the stones until a vast area in front of her was damp. The thicker juices coursed down her asshole and onto your balls, further lubricating your already messy sex. Grunting, you tirelessly plow Ningning's ass, working out any lingering frustrations you had with Giselle's teasing on her groupmate's rear; who to her credit, had only continued to urge you on. The stimulation of railing her tight coils was fast growing unbearable though, and the excitement from using the prima donna of Aespa's anus like you would a cheap whore's was too delicious to resist. But you knew that more than anything, she would want to put on a show, so you make sure to loudly announce your intention to orgasm some time before you reached that point. Upon hearing this, Ningning cranks things up to eleven, no longer content to simply take your plowing with idle passivity, now she through herself back against your thrusts as if she was attempting to impale herself. Her sweet moans grow ever louder, supported by a choir of wailing coming from your maids, and her urgings to creampie her grow increasingly salacious as the supreme moment approaches. Ningning screams in exultation as your semen spews into her guts, squirting far enough to splatter over the maids as they watched in awe, her body writhing atop yours as your second load fills her stomach with sticky warmth. Purring in the afterglow of her orgasm, the idol is content to lay back against your chest as your balls slowly empty themselves inside of her.

Once she was satisfied that you were finished, Ningning gingerly unmounts you once more, your cock exiting her with a sordid pop that presages a somewhat fouler slick of fluids than last time. Her posture betrays her immense satisfaction with her performance, as she glances around as if expecting rapturous applause from the maids. The perverse ladies had shown their appreciation in a far more honest manner than banal clapping though, as the resultant messes coating themselves as well as the floor gave evidence to their passionate enjoyment. Ningning gives you a look of utmost cockiness as she vainly attempt to smooth down her now ruinously stained dress, grossly confident that she had superseded her compatriots in raw sexual ability. Perhaps she had, you muse, as she languidly makes her way through the gardens back to the mansion, no doubt intent on washing the mingled sweat of your coupling off of herself. Your train of thought is interrupted as one of your maids begins to dutifully clean you off with her mouth, and you recline with a sigh on the soggy seat of your chair as her head bobs energetically upon your cock. You relax as the other maids gradually finish masturbating and start to clear the table, until with a grunt you fill the one kneeling between your legs' mouth with your now thin seed. What a pleasant morning it had been...

Back inside of the mansion, you make your stately way towards the public showers, you yourself were as messy as Ningning had been, and were eager to clean yourself off (not that you minded being coated in sexual fluids of course, it was the height of fashion in some circles). Dumping your soiled outfit into the laundry bin, you enter the main chamber and to your surprise find yourself confronted by the idol in question once more. Nor was she alone, as she had someone's head pinned against the wall, and seemed to be forcing them to clean out her used anus. Ningning glances over at you when you enter, biting her lip and groping her modest breasts as her perhaps unwilling partner gorges upon your leavings. You greet her with a polite nod, before heading to a shower on the opposite side of the room, content to allow the idol to enjoy herself. As you wash yourself off, and your mind wanders, you realize that the body of Ningning's lover had looked somewhat familiar, but when you glance over to confirm your idle thoughts, they had already vanished. How odd.

You could but hope that tonight's dinner table would be somewhat more subdued than the last, but from what you knew about Ningning, you had little confidence that it would be so...

A/N: Haha well this one took a little longer than expected... it took a while for me to figure out how exactly I wanted to write dear Ning2, and even longer to find the time for it, I have been a touch busy writing other girls cough cough. But hopefully the next chapter will cum sooner rather than later, heh

[sovietpostcards]

Yesterday I visited the Penates - the house of Russian painter Ilya Repin. It stands surrounded by pine forest, and the Bay of Finland is a 5 minute walk from the house.

The wooden house is very Russian style with little roofs and multiple terraces and enamel fireplaces in every room. There's a large studio on the second floor with large windows and skylights to allow as much natural light in as possible.

Repin was a very prolific painter and a huge name in his day, but also a bit of an eccentric. He always slept in a small unheated terrace, even through the winter. Him and his wife were vegetarian and practiced no-help dinner parties (with no servants at the door or the table). His weekly dinner parties on Wednesdays were attended by a multitude of artists, musicians, scientists. He was friends with Gorky, Mayakovsky, Chukovsky, Tolstoy, Yesenin etc. etc.

(Last picture: Ilya Repin paints opera singer Fyodor Shalyapin in his studio, 1914.)

[alexa-fika]

Would you be up for writing an oneshot with abandoned baby Dokucha being found by the Cross Guild? Croco and Buggy would probably not care too much at the beginning but quickly warm up to them. Mihawk is the doting and responsible daddy. Croco would love to have the little one on his lap when “disciplining” people, especially Buggy, like “how should daddy Buggy be punished today for screwing up again?” before releasing the Bananawanis. Would totally give them a baby Bananawani, who greatly dislikes Buggy. Dokucha would copy Mihawks behaviour and way of being, Mihawk is sitting on the table having breakfast and reading the newspaper, so will they. Buggy is the one funny daddy and who gets them in trouble and doesn’t think much if it’s safe for Dokucha, like taking them to a heist or so. Imagine how darn cute this would be and the three taking care of them!! 😭🥰

Baby’s Judgement ( Crocodile x gn!child!reader! X Mihawk)

A/N Here we go!!! I always day that :/ always be saying im back but then I disappear for two weeks only to repeat🫣 Listen! Time just escaped me din’t even noticed it had been that long, plan was to do in the plane but I just kind a spent the hours staring into nothingness instead. Anyhow, not sure how to feel about this one so let me know what you think. But also do note that this Dokucha got raised by these mean since they were a baby so as such they share the same morally questionable morals the men have.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics and @/drinkthesky

“Croki, where we goin’?” The small toddler wondered as they tried to keep up with the man’s long strides.

“I have something to show you,” he huffed out, pausing slightly so the child could catch up to him. 

“in the arium?”

“Aquarium,” he scoffed out.

“Arium?”

He let out a sigh, picking them up a 

“K,” he sounded, looking at the child.

“K!” 

“Kwe” 

“Kwe,” they parroted

“Aquarium” he finished.

“Arium!” They stated, seemingly proud of their ‘accomplishment.’ 

“You’re hopeless.”

“‘M’ not!”

“Perhaps I should just feed you to the bananawani,” Crocodile mused, a smirk growing on his face as he did

“No!” They cried, hugging his neck tight

“Yes, I’m sure they would enjoy eating a brat for dinner.” 

“Wah!! You’re mean!”

“Kuahaha! That’s how the world works, kid,” he laughed, making his way into the underground layer he had built to keep the giant beasts and any unfortunate soul that he and his associate decided to ‘spare’ from a swift death.

“Relax, those bastards wouldn’t do anything to you even if I told them to; they like you,” he called out once his chuckles had died down as he made his way into the shallow area of the aquarium, eventually giving rise to a section littered with sand and illuminated by a skylight place above the area.

The place allowed the huge reptiles to laze around on dry land if they so wanted to, the sand warmed by the sun above a welcome feeling to the crocodiles.

For the following months, however, this place was far from just a place for them to have their daily dose of vitamin D. Instead, it became a highly coveted place, one that the workers were not able to bypass for their usual duties as the bananawani became incredibly devoted to the care of their very own treasure that they were zealous to, thus the small layer although normally occupied by a few of Crocodile’s most trusted subordinates now lay close to empty.

However, the beasts were willing to make a few exceptions to their no-trespassing rule. The first one was the man himself, not only because Crocodile was the one who offered the crocs all the care they needed but also because the man had a new addition to himself as of late.

“Babies!” Dokucha exclaimed happily, running towards said hatchlings with glee.

It turns out that due to Crocodile establishing his dominance over the reptiles from the beginning, they had not only considered the man an extension of themselves but a superior of sorts. As such, the bananawani never reacted aggressively to his presence, this and the fact that Dokucha now lingered next to him, after all, he was in the same position as them: taking care of a young one.

“Croki, look! They have babies!”

“I know, it’s their mating season,” he mumbled as he placed one of his usual cigars in his mouth, looking as the child prattled on to one of the hatchling’s parents about the babies that littered the area.

“Croki” they called, gaining the attention of the man from the lighter on his hand back to the child as they let out a grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the task of igniting the cigar. 

“Look!”

Satisfied with the spark leaving the cigar and it’s signature cloud of smoke following, he moved his full attention to the toddler, watching as they hauled up a hatchling.

“They didn’t have a mommy or daddy.”

Crocodile let out a hum at their words.

“That one’s parents died a while ago, a sea beast if I remember right”

“Died?”

“Yes.”

“Who will take care of it?” they frowned, hugging them close, letting out tiny giggles as the Crocodile began giving them small nips.

“Just take it with you; I don’t really care,” he dismissed as he turned around, heading to the large table that decorated the center of the room.

Dokucha grinned looking down at the reptile in his hands with a grin.

“I take care of Baby!” they yelled, spinning the wani around with joy, skidding to a stop at the sound of muffled cries.

“Oi, Brat, come here” he called.

“I’m comin!” they cheered, running towards him with the Bananawani held snuggly in their arms as they climbed into the ex-warlords lap.

“You see that man?” he questioned as he gestured to one of the nearby cells.

“Man?” they mimicked, looking up towards the cell, spotting the source of the cries they had heard coming from a man in one of the otherwise empty cells, his cries muffled by a cloth tied around his head.

“Yes, see, the guy thought it would be a good idea to try and sell us out to the Marines,” he mumbled, a dark smirk growing on his face as he whispered the words to the child, ensuring that his voice remained loud enough for the terrified man to hear.

“What should I do with him?”

“Do with him?”

“Yes, should I feed him to the bananaWanis?” he suggested, his smirk widening at the rise in cries coming from the cells at the suggestion.

“No!” they protested with a pout looking up at Crocodile, much to the relief of the defected pirate.

“That would give the Wani’s a tummy ache!”

“Is that so? What should I do then?”

Dokucha shrugged, playing with the baby bananawani on their lap with a smile.

“Sand?”

The man’s relief previous relief at the thought of being spared dissipated into terror at the pirate’s following words

“Ah, that’s right. You said you wanted more sand for your sandbox, right?’”

“Mmhm”

“Well then, looks like your fates decided,” Crocodile cackled as he activated his devil-fruit

“Kai!”

“There you are; I was looking for you, “Mihawk called, watching them run into the room he sat on, gingerly placing the wine on a nearby table to accept the child jumping towards him.

“What were you doing?” he questioned, positioning them in this lap so he could balance both them and his glass of wine.

“Croki was turning a mean man into sand!” they piped up, raising what looked to be a small sippy cup in excitement.

“Ah. so he finally got rid of that pest,” he stated

“Yeah, and look!” they yelled, pulling out a small satchel from their side and grinning as the bananwani promptly jumped out as soon as they opened the satchel, letting out small chirps as they climbed into their lap.

“I have a baby!”

“Please do tell me why that is a good idea,” Mihawk called, looking over the child’s shoulders.

“I see no harm in them taking care of it; he can watch out for the brat, they can be nasty things even as hatchlings” Crocodile’s voice rings out as he enters the room, taking his place next to MIhawk.

“Besides, they seem to hate the clown as well, and he has been getting too comfortable around the brat lately,” he grunted.

The swordsman lets out a thoughtful hum at the word, seemingly mulling over the idea the devil user had given.

“I doubt a hatchling will be enough to stop that fool from trying to take them away; some lessons just need to be taught personally,” he called, taking a sip from his drink. He raised an eyebrow as the child next to them seemed to imitate his hand’s placement with their own cup.

He gave a small roll of his eyes as he put the wine down as he stood up, picking up the child who was quick to drop his cup in favor of grabbing the bananawani as they were lifted.

“Regardless, it is time for the child to go to bed, so I bid you farewell, for now; I trust I can leave the clown to you?” Mihawk called, looking at Crocodile

“I will,” he easily answered as he let a wisp of smoke escape him.

“If you want to join, you should hurry; I’m not sure he will be conscious if you take too long.”

“Very well,” he called as he walked away.

“But Kai! I’m not tired!” They whined, trying to get out of the man’s grasp

“Enough,” He sternly admonished

I don’t even know how to label the fic as cause it can’t be cross guild cause buggy is only mentioned but im not sure it really is equally crocodile and Mihawk, I think it’s more Crocodile centered 🤷🏽‍♀️ Also in case theres any confusion the Kai nickname comes from hawkeye, a two year old would hardly pronounce that so its the last vowels that sound the HawKEYE = Kai :D aint that cute?

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

[k4marina]

— vi. Secrets and the Moon || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: While things settle down secrets are unveiled and you and Daenerys have a conversation about the moon.

warnings: slight mentions of violence/death, grammar most likely, ngl it's a pretty tame chapter.

a/n: all dialouge in italics is Valyrian

series masterlist

5.2k wrd count

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

[gif is mine]

The walls of scrolls and ancient texts nearly reached the top of the ceiling. The smell of wax and parchment lingered in the room. Sunlight poured down from the skylight window. I’d never seen the room before, not on any website or during the tour of the castle. We were practically underground, in a more older portion of Dragonstone that was most likely withered away in the future. Diamond-patterned shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls on each side with a set of ladders and landings for easy access. A row of tables sat in the middle of the room, a large candle lit chandelier hanging down at the center.

I found the room whilst exploring the lower portions of the castle. It seemed that this was where all the old Valyrian texts were stored after the Targaryen’s arrival and before the Doom. When I’d first entered my head started to spin just off of the sheer size of the place. When I opened the first few scrolls and saw the ancient writing I couldn’t help but thank my parents for teaching me Valyrian Glyphs as well as the modern written form. Suddenly all those hours sitting at the dinner table studying with my father after dinner wasn’t so bad. 

So far my search had been fruitless, every lead coming to a dead end. There was practically nothing about either magic being used to bring people back in time or any mythologies relating to my predicament. There were plenty of other scrolls that taught the reader how they can cast various different spells and pyrokinesis. There were even a few that explained how to hatch stone dragon eggs, without human sacrifices. 

I scoffed, pushing that one scroll in particular to the side. I’m sure Dany could have used this while she was in the Dothraki Sea. 

Hours went by while I poured over all sorts of scrolls, but I found nothing that could explain my sudden appearance or a way to go back. The candles were nearly melted by the time I’d stored away the last scroll and shut the door to the reference room. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. I really thought that if I could find any leads about my situation then it would be on Dragonstone. 

I thought that in all of the texts the Targaryens brought over from Valyria at least one would have the answers I was looking for. But I was wrong. 

The Valyrians were the first to bound themselves with dragons using blood magic. During the Valyrian empire’s height magic was an integral part of their culture and history. There’s no telling what they couldn’t do. If only they were good at spreading their knowledge, just far enough to Volantis at least, then maybe the ancient empire wouldn’t be such a mystery. 

Daenerys sat in a closed off patio, staring off into the distance when I arrived for dinner. She was no longer in her signature dark Targaryen garb, but rather in a more simple and modest gown. Her hair was in her signature braids, but not as dramatic as usual. 

“What’s on your mind?” My question pulled her out of her thoughts, only now realizing that I was here.

“Nothing,” she half-smiles. “Just another long day. Come– sit. The food’s still warm.” She motions for me to sit, which I do. “I heard you were busy in the reference library again.” 

I sat, laying the cloth napkin on my lap. “Another bust,” a servant places a plate of food in front of the two of us before leaving. “Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of information, but none that I needed.” 

“Have you looked into other sources?” 

I sighed, reaching for the wine. “I already have. The Seven don’t really believe in whatever my situation is, and the Old Gods are mostly about nature; forest, rivers, stone.” The knife in my hands easily cut through the piece of meat on my plate. 

“What of the Old Gods of Valyria?” 

“They're just deities.” I placed my elbows on the table. “We still worship them beyond the Black Wall, but they also don’t provide any information. They’re just God’s you pray to, to keep traditions for some.” 

“So that’s it?” 

“I still have one person to ask, but she’s already gone to Volantis.” 

“Melisandre?” Daenerys frowns, “but she’s not coming back.” 

I shake my head. “She is. It’s her fate to die in Westeros. When she returns I’ll have to ask her before she takes the plunge.” 

Daenerys nods, slowly, understanding. There’s a moment of silence, the two of us busy eating before Daenerys asks me the important question that’d been lingering in the air since my arrival. 

“What will you do if you can’t go back?” 

I sit still, but then shrug. “Stay here, I guess. Don’t have any other option, do I?” I look away from her, staring off into the distance, the night sky glimmering. No matter how many times I see the stars, I’m always mesmerized. You can’t get a view like this in the modern world, the light pollution clouding the beautiful night sky. 

“I’ll probably explore around a bit.” 

“You won’t get married?” 

I paused, caught off guard. “I.. I don’t know.” I turned back to her. “I never thought of anything like that.” 

“Did you fancy anyone from your time?” 

“No,” I thought back. “Sure, I had a few crushes here and there, a boyfriend once, but nothing when I entered University, I was too focused on my studies than the opposite sex.” 

“Why? Are you trying to marry me off to some Lord to help your claim?” I teased. 

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking. If you do end up staying here then I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“But I’m not alone.” I said. “I have you.” 

She smiled. “I know that. What I mean is that I want you to have someone close to you. Someone to grow old with and perhaps a few children with.” 

I mulled over her words. “We’ll see. But my main goal is to get you on that throne first.” 

“Would that be before or after we join the Army of the Dead?” She jests. 

“Boo, bad joke.” I smiled. 

The rest of our night went smoothly, the two of us opting to not talk about war plans or the futures but rather of our childhoods. She told me stories about growing up in Essos, one that wasn't in any textbook and I told her about the modern world. I still remember telling her about modern transportation and technology, her jaw smacking the ground. 

We dined till the late hours of the night, only calling a night after we’d drank all the wine in the room. My body slightly buzzed, the alcohol flowing through me. Something that I learned when I arrived here was that alcohol was less potent compared to the future. So while everyone else could get drunk with a few glasses, I was just lightly buzzed. 

But that buzz didn’t last long. I was immediately sobered when I saw that the door to my chambers was left open. I stared at the door, silently listening for any movements. I vividly remembered closing my door in the morning. Maybe it was an assassin? But that wouldn’t make any sense. If an assassin was hired he’d go straight for Daenerys, not me.

Carefully, I stepped closer to the door, trying to not make a sound and catch the intruder's attention. I peeked through the gap between the wall and door, but saw nothing. No man dressed in robes waiting for me with a knife in my hand. I slowly pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t creek. 

The receiving room was empty, nothing out of its place. The bedroom was also, oddly, empty. I scanned the room for anything missing or changed, but the room was just as I had left it this morning. The only room that was left was the study. The door was slightly ajar and a faith wrestling could be heard. I took in a deep breath and pushed it open, expecting to see some man, but instead being met with a child. 

The kid, possibly around ten years old, rummaged through my drawers. She wore a simple, yet tethered, dress, her long hair tied back. Her hands stopped moving and her body stiffened as she’d been caught. I stared in disbelief, what the hell is this kid doing?

“What are you looking for?” My voice came out more rough than it should have, but I couldn’t care. Was this kid really going through my things? 

She didn’t reply, her eyes flickering back to the door behind me. I slammed the door shut, fully blocking any way out and asked again. “What are you doing?” 

She still didn’t reply, shaking in fear as if I’d kill her on the spot. She hid her hands behind her dress. I marched closer to her and she stepped back, her back almost hitting the wall. I reached out, grabbing her hands, surprising her. 

Scrolls that I’d written were clutched in her grasp, and in the small pockets of her dress. They ranged from menial things like day to day updates from either the Unsullied or Dothraki to sensitive subjects like Yara Greyjoy and her fleet's location or warplanes to take King’s Landing. 

I looked back at the child who seemed to be scared out of her mind, tears brimming her eyes. It was clear someone put her up to this. No child in their right mind would travel all the way up into the castle, know where my room and study were, and rummage through my stuff.

“Who set you up to this?” I lowered my tone, trying to seem less frightening. The child's eyes were a light gray with hints of lavender. Her hair was a light blonde and freckles danced around her face. By the looks of it she was either a Dragonseed or the descendant of one. 

“I’m not mad,” this time I tried in Valyrian. “I just want to know who told you to do this.” 

Her exterior flattered for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. I sighed, crouching down so that I was eye level to her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. And I won’t let anyone hurt you or your family. All you have to do is tell me who told you to do this.” 

She hesitates, and my grip on her hand loosen. I absentmindedly rubbed small circles around her wrists as a way to calm her. 

“The..” she stopped, scared that someone would hear, but I gave her hand a light squeeze, reassuring her. “The bald man. He said if I found him a special letter then he’ll bring me to my mother and father.” 

The bald man? Does she mean THE bald man?

“Do you mean the bald man that is with Queen Daenerys?” 

She nods. 

Fucking snake. 

She seems to notice that shift in my mood and quivers. I catch myself before I worsen my mood. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Alana.” 

I smiled, “what a beautiful name.” I stood up, reaching into the middle drawer that she didn’t go through and grabbed a tied handkerchief. I knelt down next to her and untied it revealing a few cookies and bit’s of chocolate. Her eyes lit up and she looked between the sweet treats and me.

“Here, you can have all of this, if you promise to not say a word, okay? You can’t tell anyone that I saw you tonight, especially the bald man.” 

She nods her head, eager to eat the cookies. 

“But, you have to do one teeny-tiny thing for me.” She looks up at me with her doe eyes. “You have to tell the Queen what you told me.” 

Panic, once again, sets in and she rapidly shakes her head. “No, she’ll-” 

“She won’t do anything,” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Her Grace doesn’t hurt children. She’ll protect you from the bald man. Both her and her dragons.” 

It took some convincing but she’d finally agreed. I placed her on my bed with the snacks and lit a few candles. I called for an Unsullied guard to go get Daenerys while I waited with her. 

“You said that the bald man would take you to your parents, where did they go?” 

She chews on a piece of chocolate and swallows. “They were taken by the man with the stag. He was bald too. He also had a daughter.” 

Stag, bald, and had a daughter. 

“Stannis.” I hummed. Knowing him, I’m sure that he’d executed them. Most of the villagers on the island are some form of Dragonseeds, bastards of the Targaryens and most definitely still loyal to them. It’s most likely that Alana’s parents had refused to bow to either Robert or to serve Stannis during his stint on Dragonstone and were killed as a result. 

The doors to my room opened and Daenerys, who was dressed in a robe and looked to have been pulled out of bed, walked in. “Did something happen?”  

I nod and stand up. Alana peeks at Daenerys from behind me, but quickly hides when they make eye contact. 

“I found her going through my things. Apparently, a friend of ours sent her to find something.” 

Daenerys looks between me and the little girl. “Who?” 

I turned back to Alana. “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell Her Grace what you told me, don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” 

The little girl holds her hands closer to her. “The bald man. He told me to look through the ladies' things.” 

“The bald man?” Daenerys repeats. She turns back to me. “Varys?” 

I nodded. “Seems like he’s interested in what I’ve been up to.”

Anger quickly takes over Daenerys and she turns to march down to his chambers. I grab her arm, “no wait.” 

“Wait?” She scoffed. “Varys is spying on my own people. He’s using children to do his dirty work and you want me to wait?” 

“Yes, I do. Dany, we can’t nail him yet.” 

She frowned. “Then what? We pretend that nothing’s happened?” 

“That’s exactly what we do. He doesn't know what we know now, we can use that to our advantage.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“Let him believe what he wants to. All we have to do is feed him the information that we want and take the information we need from him.” 

“And you are sure this will work?” 

I nodded. “Let the spider think that he’s spun his web, it’s only a matter of time before he gets too confident and makes a mistake.”

––

The next morning, after my morning sparring practice and breakfast with Daenerys, I was called down to the caves by Jon Snow. He and his men had made considerable progress mining the Dragonglass. Crates of the volcanic glass were placed around the path leading to the caves. The sound of pickaxes and chisels hammering against the cave walls echoed out from the cave entrance. 

Jon Snow stood by a few crates of what I assumed was freshly mined Dragonglass. He wore his usual attire; dark tunic underneath his black and brown leather armor, long black leather gloves and matching boots with dark trousers that had some wear and tear. He’d foregone his fur cloak and armored breastplate with House Stark sigil for the sake of practicality. 

Ser Davos, who stood in front of Jon, nodded my ways. He turned as I stepped closer, and their previous conversation came to a halt. 

“My Lady, thank you for coming.” 

I glanced around us. “You and your men seem to be making quite a bit of progress.” 

Jon nods, “we’re grateful that you and Queen Daenerys have allowed us to mine all of the Dragonglass.” 

“That’s not why you called for me is it?” 

“No.” He motions for me to follow him. We walk around a few crates, coming to a stop in front of a covered wagon, hidden from everyone. 

“We found these, deep in the caves. I’ve told my men who first found them to keep quiet about it.” 

Ser Davos opens the wagon’s doors and removes the cloth over the objects revealing a cluster of dulled dragon eggs. My eyes widened and I turned to Jon who also had the same shock written all over his face. 

“Is this all you’ve found?” 

“So far. We found these near the end of the cave before it split off into other directions.” 

I slowly nod, half focused on his words. My eyes ran over the eggs, five to be exact, all of them covered in dirt and stone. There were two lighter colored eggs, a white-gray and a pastel pink-purple. The other three were a dark navy blue, a dark green, and a pure black egg. I reached out and carefully grabbed the green egg, wiping away the dirt and debris the best I could. It left off a gold almost iridescent shimmer in the sun. The eggs themselves were hard, the outside covered in a scaled pattern. I gently turned the egg over in my hands, running my fingers over the surface.

I took in a deep breath, stunned. 

After Daenerys’ death, Dragonstone was handed off to The Crown. Over the decades, the castle had been turned into somewhat of a vacation home for the Royal Family. The Velaryon’s had contested the decision for many years, claiming that the castle was the last remnants of the Targaryen and of Valyria and that it should be preserved and handed to them as they were the closest to the extinct house. But in reality, they were more interested in exploring the castle than honoring it. 

They’d found Dragonegg’s littered all over the island, nestled away in the string of cave networks. Dragon bones and skulls dating back to the dragons the Targaryens first brought to the islands were also found in caves in the island's volcanic mountains. By the time the eggs were found they’d been completely fossilized and turned to stone. Taking inspiration from Daenerys, the Velaryons tried to hatch the dragons in secret, but lacked the (for a lack of better words) magic that the Targaryens held. 

But this, this was something else. 

I turned to Jon, who’d been watching me, “thank you.” He slightly bows his head, surprised by my sincerity. “Did you find anything else?”

“No, My Lady, that’s all we’ve run across.” 

I pressed my lips and nods, looking back down at the eggs. “Alright. Keep mining, but don’t go too deep.” I set the dragon egg back down, “now help me get these to Daenerys.” 

––

The five eggs, now properly cleaned of any dirt, sat in a chest between Daenerys and I. Her eyes stayed glued to the eggs as Jon recounted what he’d told me. But, like me, her focus was entirely on the eggs. She dismisses him, leaving the two of us. Silence hangs in the air for many moments, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Did you know that there were eggs on the island?” She finally asks. 

“I did,” I sat back, eyes flickering between the chest and her. “But I didn’t know where exactly they were. I just never knew that they were just.. right there.”

She hums. “They look like they’re turned to stone.” 

“We can still bring them back.” 

“Where would we keep them?” 

I shrugged. “I’m sure there's a few warming brazier’s laying around. We can chuck them in there while we deal with the Night King.” 

She looks up at me, “are you sure we can hatch them?” 

“Yeah, why not? Just need some good-old fashioned Valyrian blood magic.” 

Daenerys chuckles. “Alright, I’ll tell the servants to light a few warmers.” 

She stands from her seat, walking over and grabbing the dark blue dragon egg, turning it over in her hands. 

“How many of these are there?” She muttered. 

“Plenty,” I replied, standing up myself. “The entire island is littered with them.” 

“What?” 

I pour a glass of wine. “The caves under the island are almost littered with them. Some of them are in the caves up in the mountains.” 

I motioned her towards the window that faced mountains. “Jaehaerys’ dragon, Vermithor, used to dwell in a cave on that mountain. It’s said that he laid a clutch of eggs in there, but by the time we found them they were completely stone.” 

Daenerys steps forwards and peers out the window to the large mountain in the distance. “If the Dragonegg’s were here all along, then why did they die out?” 

I shrugged “Hell if I know.” I take a sip of the wine, leaning on the windowsill. “It’s rumored that after Rhaenyra’s death that the Targaryen's love and bond with the dragons was bruised, I guess you can say. People believe that the closer the dragons are to their riders, the stronger the magic. But after a civil war where the dragons pitted against each other and other riders, I guess the magic fizzled out.” 

“Well, that’s until you came around,” I motioned towards Dany with my glass. 

She stared off to where Vermithor’s cave was. “So many mistakes,” she muttered. “They made so many mistakes and it cost our house everything.”

“But you won’t do the same thing.” I said. 

She turned to me, determined. “No, I won’t.” 

––

The walls are jagged and raw, a clear contrast to the smooth walls of the castle. It’s dim, squinting my eyes to try and adjust to the lack of light. My footsteps echoed off of the walls. 

One, two, three, four… and five.

He lay on the cold ground on top of a sad looking chunk of hay that looked as if it was on its last legs. He’s wearing the same trousers and dirty tunic as he was when he was brought here. His chest has a slight rise and fall indicating he’s alive. His face caked in blood and dirt, making me grimace. 

“Wake up.” 

He doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Annoyed, I reach over to a bucket on the side of the entrance of his cell, grabbing a cup full of water. I splashed it on him through the cell doors. 

“I said, wake up.” 

He gasps, coughing and sits up straight, surprised. His head snaps over in my direction, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t make any effort to move out of the shadows and into the dim light. 

“You bitch!” 

I drag a chair over in front of the cell bars, crossing my legs as I sit. “That’s no way to address a Lady.” 

He scoffs. “Y’er the furthest thing from a Lady,” he licks his chapped lips. “But you’ve got a pretty face like one. Maybe once your Dragon Queen agrees to my offer I’ll fuck you both” 

I narrow my eyes, but bite my tongue. “And you really think that she’ll take you as, what did you say? A King?”

“I am a King!” He growls. 

“Any man who must say ‘I am the King’ is no true King.” I quote Tywin Lannister. 

“I am the King of Salt and Rock.” He brings his face closer to me into the light. 

“Your niece and nephew would argue otherwise.” I glare down at Euron. 

“That bitch and her cock-less brother? They’re nothing. I’ll kill them just like I killed their father.” 

“That ‘bitch’ is on her way to reclaim the Iron Islands, and her ‘cock-less brother’ handed you your own ass, landing you here, in a dungeon.” 

“She won’t make it.” He double downs. “The Ironborn don't follow women.” 

“We’ll see.” I lean in closer, eyeing him through the bars. “It’s a new dawn. Two Queens are fighting for the Iron Throne, most of Westeros’ noble houses are led by women. I think the Iron Islands won’t mind a woman leading them.” 

Euron pushes himself against the wall. “Won’t last long. They’ll get tired of her and crave for their true king.” 

I leaned forwards. “That awfully confident of you considering your predicament. It’s almost like you have something under your sleeve.” His demeanor shifts, a wave of arrogance and cockiness falling over him. 

He smirks. “Y’wanna know? Hm?” He runs his beady eyes down my figure and I tried not to shiver out of disgust. “Why don’t you do me a favor and I’ll tell you.” 

“Really?” I played along. “And why would I do that? Not to be too mean, but you don’t seem to be the type to be strategic, just dumb luck.” 

His eye twitches at my comment. He leans forwards, a crazed look in his eyes, as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “Cause it’s the one thing that will make your dragons mine.” 

Gotcha. 

“Let me guess, a Dragonbinder?” 

His face falls, shocked that I already knew about his “trump card” that not even Cersei knew about. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. 

“What? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty chatty before, what happened?” 

He recovers well, becoming more hostile. “Knowing about it won’t change a thing. I’ll get out of here and when I do, I’ll kill you and everyone in this fucking castle and feed you to your own fucking dragons!” 

I stare at him momentarily before smiling. “I’ll count on it.” I stand, getting ready to leave. “You’ve lost, Euron. I look forward to your coming execution. Sleep well till then.” 

––

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks, tethering between skepticism and fear.

I nodded. “I didn’t believe it either. From what I had heard it was purely a rumor, but he just confirmed for me.”

“A Dragonbinder?” Missandei raised a brow. “I don’t seem to be familiar with that item.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” I said. “It’s something like an ancient relic of Old Valyria. It’s a horn made of an enormous dragonbone and is six feet long. It’s said that whoever blows into it will have the power to control dragons, but I’ve never seen it before nor have I known anyone to have ever seen it, let alone have it in their possession.”

“And you believe Euron is hiding it somewhere?” Varys asks, hand folded in his lap.

“It’s alleged when he went to claim the Seastone Chair he presented the horn to impress his followers. How much of it is true is beyond me, but I think this is something we should keep a close eye on.”

“Has it ever been used?” Dany asks. 

“I don’t know. I’ve checked the reference library and found nothing.” 

“So the horn’s a sham?” Varys says. 

“We don’t know that,” I frowned. “A threat is a threat, regardless if it’s been documented or not.” I turned back to Dany. “Look, I’m telling you all I know. There’s possibly a Dragonbinder out there and it could turn your children against you.” 

Daenerys sighs, deep in thought. On one hand this could be a plausible threat. History has proven that anything that remains from Valyria could have the power to cause tremendous change while on the other hand, no one really knows if it exists and if it’s an actual threat to anyone. 

“If what you say is the truth then that means Euron and his men have a powerful weapon against me and my children. However, no one, but one man, knows where it is and we don’t know if it’s an actual threat or not. For now, we focus on the task at hand, Euron and the Dragonbinder can wait.” 

I nod, understanding. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.” 

––

The stars shone bright in the night sky, not a cloud in sight. The moon glimmered brightly, a perfect reflection in the deep ocean. It was one of those nights where everything was still, as if time had stopped. There was no sound, no wind, nothing, just pure silence. 

I took in a deep breath, relaxing my shoulders and leaned against the stone railing. My eyes trailed from the sky to the ocean, the beach, and then the cave entrance. Wagons and crates were left around along with what looked to be mining equipment. It wouldn’t be long until all of the Dragonglass would be mined away and then we’ll be marching North to face off against the Night King. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting you,” a voice called from behind. I turned around to see Daenerys walking closer to me. 

“No, you’re not.” I smiled. “It’s pretty late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same.” 

I turned back to stare off in front of me, “couldn’t sleep. Thought I would be able to after some fresh air, but the sleepiness hasn’t kicked in yet.” 

She comes to stand besides me, a comfortable silence falling over us. I looked back down at the cave entrance. 

“Since I’ve came here I've been debating whether the Gods are cruel or kind.” I let out a sigh. “On one hand, they’ve taken me from my friends, family, my home. The other, I’ve been given the opportunity to rewrite history, and right the wrongs of mankind.” I let out a humorless laugh and turned towards Dany. “But regardless of what’s happened, I’m glad I’m here to help you and make sure you don’t go through this alone.” 

She reached over to grasp my hand, reassuringly. I smiled, “whatever happens from here on out, I want you to know that. I love you, sister.”

Tears brimmed her eyes and she smiled. “I love you too. I pray that when this is over you can find a way back to your family.” 

“But you’d be all alone.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled bittersweet. “I’ve lost my family, I know the pain. I can’t have you going through that.” 

I swallowed thickly, looking up and blinked away my tears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the moon, above. 

I cleared my throat, “when I was a child, I visited my Ñāma, um my Grandmother, in Volantis. One night, when the sky was like this she told me a story about two sisters. The younger one was very sick and couldn’t be out during the day so she and her elder sister would go out at night, making sure not to go too far off from home. And every night, under the shade of a large tree, the elder sister would sing a lullaby to her little sister about the moon. And every night, the younger sister would say ‘The sun is for everyone, but we have the moon,’ and she’d fall asleep with a smile. One night, just like any other, the two sisters go out and the eldest sings a lullaby, except this time, the younger one never opens her eyes and passes in her sleep. And for the rest of her life, the eldest sister, before going to bed, would sing a lullaby to the moon, hoping it would reach her sister, because they always had the moon.” 

At this point tears were streaming down both of our faces, and I tried my best not to start crying. “Daenerys, wherever we are, we’ll always have the moon.” 

We both burst into tears, pulling each other into a tight embrace, crying in each other's arms under the glimmering moon.

so i've recently composed a "soundtrack" for this series (i put soundtrack in "" bc it's more like a medley) i'm thinking abt working on it while i work on this series, but lmk if u all want to hear it when it's complete or when i've given up.

ALSO!! since we're approaching the height of series (and the end) what should my next game of thrones/asoiaf series be?

TAGLIST:

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Could you possibly do head canons or a fanfic of Ghostface! Keigo(Hawks) x reader?

You have free creative control to what would happen and stuff like that (I just think the idea would be interesting) but you don’t have to do it if your not comfortable.

(Also I love your work)

Thank you so much!! (I"M BACK BITCHES FR THIS TIME! Also this is my very late Kinktober contribution because college is kicking my ass rn)

He would wait until a day you knew he wouldn’t be home.

“Kei, I promise, it’s alright."

Your boyfriend whined into the receiver. “Yeah, but we had plans tonight."

“And sitting in front of the tv with a bowl of candy and some Jordan Peele movies tomorrow night will be just as lovely.” You reply. “Besides, you gotta protect us from all the toilet-papering teens terrorizing the city tonight.”

“Hardy-har. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you.”

“I love you back.”

Preferably at a time when your other emotions were likely to overwhelm any idea of his plans.

Setting the phone down, you allowed your body to slouch into a sigh, one final act of disappointment that you didn’t want your boyfriend to see.

While one could argue that you were technically used to his fluctuating schedule, it still didn’t make it any less disheartening when he was called in last minute on holidays. Of course, you didn’t let him know that.

Then he'd play with you just a bit, letting your sense of anxiety spike just the slightest by leaving the overhead skylight ajar.

Had he really left it open?

“Dumbass,” you muttered with a grin, quickly standing up to grab a ladder.

A chill rattled through your spine as you climbed, fall wind blowing through your hair and poking goosebumps in your skin as you pulled the window closed, making sure to lock it before wandering into the kitchen for an after-dinner snack.

A bowl of cereal was always an easy solution, especially when it was accompanied by a spooky flick and a comfortable bar seat at the counter.

Your phone would ring at exactly midnight, a voice he knew you'd find familiar, yet still unable to place, would answer.

Unknown Number.

"Hello?"

"Hey there," the voice was masculine and deep, like the sound had been covered with a sheet of gravel before being released.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, come on, don't you recognize me?"

"Uh, no. I think you might have the wrong number."

"No, I don't." Silence followed for a few moments, just enough for a touch of unease to stir in your gut. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You gotta have a favorite. I know you like them."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you're watching one right now."

He also knew how well you liked horror films, how easily you would recognize the reference and think of the surprise call as a prank. Then he'd make sure to get your heart beating once more.

"I also know your boyfriend left the window open on his way out. That's dangerous, dontcha think? Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone with the door locked?"

"What do you want?" Fear shook your vocal cords, the question coming out in a ridiculously less forceful manner than you would've liked.

"You."

Being the over-protective boyfriend he was, you had been taught how to react to a situation like this beforehand. That just meant he had to move quickly, sliding a hand over your mouth to smother a scream and prying the phone from your fingers before you could even think of calling for help.

"Calm down, sweetheart." The masked figure tossed the voice changer away, black fabric tickling the rim of your ear. "I've got ya."

Keigo was thoughtful. He'd give you a moment of realization, and another to stop struggling, before forcefully turning you around and lifting you on top of the counter, one hand encasing both of your wrists and the other toying with the end of your sleep-shorts.

Eyes widening in shook, you took in the white mask in front of you. Lifeless black eyes and a horrifyingly exaggerated mouth, one that left the expression into one of pure terror for eternity. The dark fabric surrounding it just exaggerated that pristine look, one of perfectly untouched cartilage.

Still, despite its velvety presence, you recognized the hands poking out from the robe. Bronze skin kissed by years in the sun, interrupted by the lines of scars that you had spent countless nights running your fingers over.

The hands were warm, just as they always were, as they slid over your thighs, forcing them open before sliding underneath the bottom hem of your pajamas.

He would watch you try not to moan as he brushed his thumb over your clit, caressing gentle circles over it before pushing a finger inside. The soft whimper he earned made his cock jump.

"That's right, gorgeous." The masked figure slid another digit in, undoubtedly smirking as he felt you clench around him.

"I wanna hear you scream."

[turbotaxevasion]

400 Word DC Drabble

Nightwing and Robin respond to an SOS for a college party turned hostage situation. Turns out, they didn't even need to show up.

Inspired by this post from @thebirdsandthebats ! Thank you for the idea, I hope I did it justice :)

Nightwing stood over the skylight, looking down at the situation below. There had been a normal college party going on that Tim had told him about, but things quickly went sour. A low-rank villain – some new guy Nightwing couldn’t bother remembering the name of – had attacked the party, taking most of the kids inside hostage. There weren’t many of them left. Most had escaped when the villain first attacked. Those who hadn’t were backed into a corner, huddled together as the D-lister hemmed and hawed about … something. Nightwing couldn’t really make out the words.

Robin stood next to him with his arms crossed. He frowned down at the new villain, sneering as he waved a gun around.

“He really does not have awareness, does he?”

Nightwing knew the question was rhetorical, a dig at the guy in the mask. Still, he said, “Apparently not. Shall we?”

Before they could break through the skylight, shattering the glass and making a grand entrance, one of the students broke away from the pack. Something about him seemed familiar. The villain had his back turned, so he didn’t see the guy pick up a folding chair. He also didn’t see the blonde guy take a full swing at the back of his head. The blonde guy clocked the villain over the head with the chair. A loud clang followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor resonated through the warehouse. Nightwing could see a noticeable dent in the chair’s frame. It was partially bent.

‘Damn,’ he thought. ‘That kid’s got a lot of anger.’

Then the student turned, and suddenly everything made sense. He was familiar because he had seen him before. He was the same guy that Tim had brought over for dinner, the same guy that Tim gushed about constantly, the same guy that collected every vigilante in Gotham to go beat up a cult of monsters and their masters just to get Robin back. The same kid – Bernard – that figured out Robin’s identity and loved him just as much as he had before the revelation. Nightwing was well aware, especially given the unhinged glint in his eyes, that Bernard had a lot of pent up anger and was angry enough to use it when the situation called for it… And sometimes when it didn’t.

‘Yeah,’ Nightwing thought. ‘We didn’t need to come. He had it under control.’

Nightwing stood over the skylight, looking down at the situation below. There had been a normal college party going on that Tim had told him about, but things quickly went sour. A low-rank villain – some new guy Nightwing couldn’t bother remembering the name of – had attacked the party, taking most of the kids inside hostage. There weren’t many of them left. Most had escaped when the villain first attacked. Those who hadn’t were backed into a corner, huddled together as the D-lister hemmed and hawed about … something. Nightwing couldn’t really make out the words.

Robin stood next to him with his arms crossed. He frowned down at the new villain, sneering as he waved a gun around.

“He really does not have awareness, does he?”

Nightwing knew the question was rhetorical, a dig at the guy in the mask. Still, he said, “Apparently not. Shall we?”

Before they could break through the skylight, shattering the glass and making a grand entrance, one of the students broke away from the pack. Something about him seemed familiar. The villain had his back turned, so he didn’t see the guy pick up a folding chair. He also didn’t see the blonde guy take a full swing at the back of his head. The blonde guy clocked the villain over the head with the chair. A loud clang followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor resonated through the warehouse. Nightwing could see a noticeable dent in the chair’s frame. It was partially bent.

‘Damn,’ he thought. ‘That kid’s got a lot of anger.’

Then the student turned, and suddenly everything made sense. He was familiar because he had seen him before. He was the same guy that Tim had brought over for dinner, the same guy that Tim gushed about constantly, the same guy that collected every vigilante in Gotham to go beat up a cult of monsters and their masters just to get Robin back. The same kid – Bernard – that figured out Robin’s identity and loved him just as much as he had before the revelation. Nightwing was well aware, especially given the unhinged glint in his eyes, that Bernard had a lot of pent up anger and was angry enough to use it when the situation called for it… And sometimes when it didn’t.

‘Yeah,’ Nightwing thought. ‘We didn’t need to come. He had it under control.’

[candychasse]

Splendor Mansion Head Cannons.

Splendor used to share Slendy's mansion, separating it into West and East wings respectively. However after a not so friendly incident in the 80's involving laughing jack and Jill, Splendor chose to move himself and his proxies/helpers to a mansion he built himself.

Speaking of the proxies/helpers.. The reason why he 'collects people' so to speak is because he feels the need to give people who usually don't quite fit in a soft place to land.

Splendor's mark so to speak, takes form of multicolor polka dots in a straight line wrapping around usually one's wrists, waist, ankles, or neck.

He also uses his Proxies/Helpers to send out on missions to go fetch him a magical artifact or two. Usually something particularly dangerous which he doesn't want falling in the wrong hands. This usually causes his Proxies to step on Slender's proxies toes quite a bit.

Anyways onto the house itself. I believe that the respective mansions can travel to wherever Slender or Splendor wants them to be. Splendor rather likes parking his house on the west coast in red wood forests or beside Rocky beaches.

Splendor's mansion itself is rather hard to find if you don't know what your looking for. Basically, if you actively look for it, you'll be lead in circles, but if you could care less, congrats you found it!!

The mansion itself has colorful walls of neon and pastel hues with various plants scattered about.

Splendor asks every new person in the mansion what their preferred decorating style is. And by the end of the initiation dinner, they'll have a whole bedroom styled to their personal taste.

^ because of this, many ghosts inhabiting the mansion get very disoriented when phasing through walls.

Due to the mostly pacifist nature of the residents in splendor mansion, most of the food made is vegan or at the very least vegetarian. Although for the residents who choose to eat meat/animal products there is a separate fridge for them.

There's a chicken coup in the front yard, where in which one particular black silkie rooster is named Jeff.

Has a walk in fridge mostly dedicated to ice cream, sherbet, and popsicles.

The pantry is always fully stocked with every comfort food imaginable.

Splendor's mansion has a lot of natural light coming in the form of, a ridiculous amount of stain glass windows that are downright impressive, various skylights on the second floor, floor to ceiling windows, two different sun rooms, and while not attached to the mansion a very big greenhouse.

The mansion regularly smells like freshly baked bread, desserts, and pastries.

I feel like the decor room by room is from completely different decades, but all goes together because it's so colorful.

Like the kitchen looks like a kitchen from a 2000s sitcom. With those themed kitchen appliances sprinkled in, like a hello kitty beldner, coca cola microwave, a my little pony waffle maker, and toy story pizza maker.

Meanwhile the main living area is very Victorian. (They even have a radioactive clock!)

And the hallways kinda look straight out of a weirdcore Pinterest board.

Has first aid kits in every bathroom. (For obvious reasons lol)

[fiction-quotes]

M. Todgers's Commercial Boarding House was a house of that sort which is likely to be dark at any time; but that morning it was especially dark. There was an odd smell in the passage, as if the concentrated essence of all the dinners that had been cooked in the kitchen since the house was built, lingered at the top of the kitchen stairs to that hour, and, like the Black Friar in Don Juan, 'wouldn't be driven away.'  In particular, there was a sensation of cabbage; as if all the greens that had ever been boiled there, were evergreens, and flourished in immortal strength. The parlour was wainscoted, and communicated to strangers a magnetic and instinctive consciousness of rats and mice. The staircase was very gloomy and very broad, with balustrades so thick and heavy that they would have served for a bridge. In a sombre corner on the first landing, stood a gruff old giant of a clock, with a preposterous coronet of three brass balls on his head; whom few had ever seen – none ever looked in the face – and who seemed to continue his heavy tick for no other reason than to warn heedless people from running into him accidentally. It had not been papered or painted, hadn't Todgers's, within the memory of man. It was very black, begrimed, and mouldy. And, at the top of the staircase, was an old, disjoined, rickety, ill-favoured skylight, patched and mended in all kinds of ways, which looked distrustfully down at everything that passed below, and covered Todgers's up as if it were a sort of human cucumber-frame, and only people of a peculiar growth were reared there.

  —  Martin Chuzzlewit (Charles Dickens)

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a thief in Atlantis, and letting Arthur Curry catch you so you can steal a kiss.

“Arthur,” You say with a smile as you’re leaned up against the display case for a treasure that you had recently stolen. Well, stolen is an intense word. Taken it so that it could be returned to the people that it really belongs to, is the better word for it.

The handsome superhero had strolled inside, his eyes settling on me before you even spoke. You knew that he was coming - as slow as he was. The stolen item was already stashed off of your person and you’d been waiting around, counting ticks from the clock, and checking twitter on your phone.

“... Thief,” He says, since he doesn’t know your name, doesn’t know your identity. You’re not prolific enough to have one like Selina Kyle does. “What have you taken now?”

“Does it look like I can fit much in this suit?” You ask, doing a little spin for him. “Maybe I’m just here to learn a little culture.”

“I don’t find that very likely,” Arthur said with a chuckle. “You’re usually gone by the time one of us gets here, what’s the deal today? Feeling lonely?”

“Something like that,” You said. “I thought I’d come to steal something else today...” You walk in closer to him, knowing that he could grab you at any time, use his strength to turn you into the authorities. You’re close enough to where no matter how fast you were, you wouldn’t be able to get away from his reach. Keeping it risky.

“I don’t keep my wallet on me when I’m working, sorry,” Arthur said, surprising you with a broad smile. Oh, he had my sense of humor. I liked that.

“I was thinking something a little less tangible...” You said, your lips pouting. Your mask only hid three quarters of your face to protect your identity, but your mouth was very much exposed. Arthur was about to ask what you were thinking when you decided to steal it just then and there. It’s not really thieving if its just given to you, and charity is not your expertise. What you stole was a kiss from his plump lips. And he didn’t seem to mind. He was surprised but then he returned it, walking you up against the wall so that you had no place to escape from, your tongues in a frenzy. No, you don’t think he minded at all.

However, it did kind of sound like the police minded, since you could hear their sirens. You ended the kiss with a pop, and lightly patted his cheek. “That’s my cue. Let’s do this again sometime. Maybe you can buy dinner first,” You grinned, rolled between his legs before he could comprehend what was happening and was out of there. Once you was back onto the rooftop, you looked through the skylight to see him staring up at me with a grumpy expression. You blew him a kiss, and then set on your way home, hiding in the shadows. Oh, what a man. He doesn’t seem the type to kiss and tell so you should be in the clear.

Requested by: Anonymous

[arobinwithoutbatman]

My muse was unexpectedly kidnapped, and was never able to be found. A year later, your muse comes across an old abandoned building, and finds my muse tied up, wounded, and barely alive. What is your muse's reaction?

@dramatisperscnae

Tim missed Gotham. His Dad Jack. Call him Jack. That monster isn't his Dad anymore had sort of... snapped a while back how long has it been now? Time isn't real anymore and pulled Tim out of school, sold their town house in Bristol and just. Left. He was fairly sure they left the State but he wasn't sure where they ended up. Tim wasn't allowed to know. He spent the entire ride asleep against his will. His room had a skylight so he could see the sky and get vitamin D from the sun but it didn't open and Tim couldn't reach it. He had a couple of windows too but they were high up on the wall, too high for him to reach and only showed him sky and the very tops of what could either be trees or hills. He definitely wasn't in a city, he could say that much.

His door was locked, as always. Dad Jack kept the key somewhere; upstairs in the main house probably or on his person. Tim was pretty sure he'd been up there? For meeting the neighbours and other guests? Maybe? It was hard to say. He was in a constant haze of drowsiness these days, it slowed his mind down in a way he despised because it meant he couldn't form a plan of escape, couldn't keep track of what he was seeing or even what day it was. The only method of time keeping he had was the passing sunlight and Dad Jack! He's not Dad anymore! The more I call him Dad, the closer I am to giving in entirely! stopping by with his food. His empty dinner tray was on his desk.

His room wasn't empty, far from it. Plenty of room to move around and stretch, build legos on his carpeted floor, a big comfy bed, a big fancy desk for studying and doing his online classes. Heavily monitored of course. If he even started typing anything that wasn't approved, Jack would knock him out. Sleeping gas usually. Mostly to avoid drugging him more than he already was. Tim had tried figuring out which of his various medications was responsible; he didn't wasn't allowed to leave his prison room so took various vitamins and other things to make sure he was getting the nutrients he needed. Which wasn't enough because Tim had long since lost the muscle tone of being Robin. Which sucked because he'd been pretty proud of that.

Tim shifted on his bed, the oranges and pinks he could see through his skylight told him it was sunset. May as well get comfy. He didn't exactly have anything else to do. He rolled onto his side, the cuff and long chain around his ankle didn't bother him anymore. It was long enough to allow him to comfortably move around in his sleep and walk freely around his room. Couldn't quite reach his door though.

Hazy ice blue eyes blinked slowly as he took in the figure before him.

"Oh. This hallucination again. Or lucid dream? I can't tell the difference anymore. I'd say your name out loud but I'm pretty sure my Dad is listening and I don't feel like losing more time as punishment for not agreeing with him. Not so soon after last time." He yawned. "What are we talking about tonight?"

[jessefandomunited]

Library Vibes

I had a very short idea about being a librarian starting to close up for the night and realizing Spencer is still there. I was at work late and my brain is mush so bear with me lol

Spencer Reid x GN reader ( I made extra care to not put anything regarding gender, race, or name .trying to be as inclusive as possible enjoy)

It was a cold rainy night , one that always caused my mind to wander. The sky darkened much quicker and I thought of nothing but the rhythmic thrumming of the rain pattering against the expansive windows and skylight. The thunder rumbled as I finished putting another book back into its place and casually checked my watch. " ITS NINE," I Gasped much louder then I mean to which made, probably the last person here, drop their book , startled.

" I'm so sorry," I apologized walking towards the man hunched over picking up his book," the rain made me lose track of time, we've been closed for thirty minutes." He stood up and I knew who he was. Instantly I was flustered. Spencer Reid of the BAU came here often when he wasn't busy to just read surrounded by books. I noticed he'd always grab about ten thick books and get through them all quicker than I thought anyone could read. We've had a few conversations about books and his job but nothing more. I wanted more , so much more . I wanted to pluck up the courage to ask him on a date, but I just didn't know how, but this may be my best chance.

" hey im sorry too i should have known to leave i just assumed you'd kick me out whenever it was time to close up," he said awkwardly piling the stack of books he had been reading ," im typically very good at keeping track of time." I laughed ," I'm sure you are the genius that you are." I swore I saw him blush when I said that . Instead of brining it up though I began gathering the books he had been reading to put them in the return basket for me to resell later. " I can do that , I shouldn't have kept you here so late," he blurted scooping up the remaining books, " I mean , I remember where got them all too." I smiled and instead of telling him what my original plan was I nodded and said ," I'd love that."

As we methodically put back each book I noticed that he had been reading a series I'd mention was my favorite. It was a bit childish compared to his other ones but I felt touched. " so how did you like it,"I pried handing him each book in the series. " not what I normally read but it was fun, I thought the story was very fanciful and reminded me of being a kid again, at least the good parts of that," he said stumbling over his words. "Oh," I said not wanting to pry into his childhood," well I'm really touched you read it." Red was creeping up his face again ," it's no problem, I enjoyed it." I felt this push in my gut saying " here is your chance." " you know .... I havnt had dinner yet have you," I pressed measuring out my words carefully. He shook his head," no ." " perfect, would you like to go out then," I blurted feeling a bit foolish. He looked stunned like he couldn't believe I had actually said that ," yes... like out out , like a date or like a friend thing?" My smile broadened," a date, I am asking you, Spencer Reid, on a date." " I'd be honored," he said almost giddy.

With that we walked to the front of the library, I locked up, and we were officially on a date. Now I just needed to find a place that was open

[worrywrite]

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around Men at Arms.

It's a fantastic book, but it is also so different from Guards! Guards! in tone. And maybe that's where the key is. It's not that the villain of the story is perhaps one of the most proficient killers in all of Discworld (all two and a half of them... D'Eath, Cruces, and The Gonne) and their goal is to actually kill. It's not even that the crimes that the watch are investigating are murder, because even though paid assassinations are legal death and murder are part of the setting. Death is literally a character here, though much more briefly than G!G!. Frankly, I don't even think it's because of the racial allegories.

The tone in Men at Arms is different because the first one to die is a clown. Because Pratchett literally killed the joke (the entire thing and all of its subsets). There's nothing funny about a clown funeral, the dogs are the biggest allegory for racial issues, a gun really is evil, Cuddy literally draws the short straw. It's all literal. Everything is extremely literal. For once, Ankh Morpork isn't a joke. For once, the city feels like a city. And it's the book where Carrot, the most literal character there is, becomes a man (literally and in every sense) and takes his mantle of leadership.

Everything in Men at Arms is literal. Because the villain killed the joke to death and it was the shining moment for Carrot to step up.

There's also an extensive running bit that even the silly construction of the silly, courtesy of Bloody Stupid Johnson, is actually stupid. Within the narrative itself, the book is calling itself out. It is saying that this absurd veneer that we have found ourselves on is just that. This city was built on itself, on its own bones, on the the bones of empires--fueled with the blood of many. The architecture beneath Johnson's flawed works, the aqueducts and sewer systems below the city, are vast and strong and powerful--maybe even beautiful. But they're dangerous. The past is incredibly dangerous. Even Carrot, whose potential is very much rooted in the past of the city, is dangerous. His victory is not one I expected in the moment it came. The line about how you must hope that whoever is looking at you from the other end of their weapon is an evil man... Was harsh and true and honestly a little frightening for a story which also contains a scene where a sentient rock man chucks a dwarf through the skylight of Schrodinger's pork warehouse to save both of their lives.

Perhaps this puts the rest of the book in context as well. Especially the things that made me cringe when I read them. Like everything about Coalface, Angua being included in the story because she was a woman and every book needs at least one (preferably one that can leap over a building or deadlift a draft horse), the high school clique-ificarion of all the guilds, Vimes talkin to the nobles after dinner and almost letting himself believe he could be like that (even though he ends up laying into them with some excellent biting sarcasm), Vetinari not being in control and not realizing it. It's all very real, but real like a real serial killer in real life and not a crime drama. Maybe even real like a normal guy in a costume with their mask off.

Maybe not.

It's not a perfect book (which bites, because G!G! was nearly there), but it remains a very intentional book. I feel like less people have read it than G!G!, and I can see why. It's messier, it's not as funny, there's a lot more allegory and it's a lot more blunt.

But it's still extremely topical (sadly). I retain my opinion that it may be one of the most important books I've ever read. And I'm beginning to understand, finally, why.

[ereardon]

That Summer || Part Four [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, angst, smut

Wordcount: 3.6K

Series masterlist here; Part Three here; Part Five here

You craved Bradley. 

You craved his lips on yours, his hot skin pressed against you. 

He had stopped it that night in the ocean, under the glowing moon. 

“I can’t afford to play games here, Birdy,” he whispered, his hands still warm on your waist as he held you cradled against him in the chest-deep water. 

You shook your head. “It’s not a game, Bradley,” you murmured. “You’re not a game to me. You’re not some prize that I’m chasing. All I know is that I want you.” 

And then his lips were back on yours, his hands flat against your back beneath the water, your fingers tugging his hair, your moans filling his mouth until the two of you broke apart, panting. 

You slid your legs from where they were wrapped around his waist, coming to standing. “We should go inside,” you whispered. “I don’t want to get caught.” 

The air was thick, cloying, with heat as the two of you trudged out of the water, walking quietly around the side of the house, up the wooden stairs, slipping through the side door. You held your breath as the two of you climbed two flights of stairs to the third floor, lingering outside of your room. 

You nudged the door open. “Do you want to come in?” you whispered. 

Bradley stood in the doorway, looking around. He had never been in your room before. It was light and spacious, with skylights that let the milky moonlight pour in and a king canopy bed against one wall draped luxuriously with gauzy white fabric.  

He shook his head. Your heart dropped in your chest. 

“I should shower,” he said, motioning toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

“OK.” 

He smiled, turning to go, and you reached out, circling his wrist with your fingertips. “Bradley?” He looked at you. “Meet me here tomorrow,” you whispered. “My room. Midnight.” 

He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to yours, and you could no longer remember a time when Bradley wasn’t part of your existence. “See you tomorrow, Birdy.” 

***

You were anxious. After dinner you excused yourself, going upstairs, taking a long shower, shaving your legs, picking out a tiny pajama set: a pale pink cami with matching boyshorts, forgoing a bra. You brushed your hair and left it down. 

And then you waited. 

And waited. And waited. And waited. Time was a bitch. She knew that she had something you wanted. No, not wanted — needed. And she was slowing down, just to keep you from that one thing. 

Finally, your door creaked open. You looked up eagerly from where you lay on top of the covers. Bradley poked his head inside and you waved him in. He shut the door softly, walking into the center of the room tentatively. He looked forward, out the big bay windows that looked out over the ocean. 

“Hi,” you whispered softly. 

He turned, a smile on his face. “Hi.” 

You patted the bed and he made his way over, sitting down softly. You sat up, crossing your legs, looking at him. He looked uncomfortable. Panic rose in your throat, along with regret. Maybe he was late because he didn’t want what had happened the night before to happen again. 

Maybe he had only kissed you back because you were technically his host family for the summer. Maybe he didn’t want you at all. 

“Bradley?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you, um, I mean, have you ever dated anyone before?” 

He blushed. There was something so endearing about watching him blush, his round cheeks perfectly pink. “Not really,” he said softly. 

You leaned forward until your knee was touching his thigh. “Really? No one?” 

He smiled shyly. “I’ve been with girls,” he said. “I just have never had a girlfriend.” 

You brushed one hand against his thigh. “So last night.” 

He turned to you. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said quietly. “But we have to be careful, Y/N. I know this might not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s a really big deal to me.” Bradley’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “I can’t fuck this up, Birdy. This is my only shot.” 

You reached up, cupping his chin in your hand, turning his eyes up toward yours. “I know this is serious,” you whispered. “I want to help you. I’ll do anything I can. I am not going to let you get lost in the shuffle.” 

Bradley’s warm brown eyes never left yours as he shifted to face you, your hand running from his jaw down to his neck until the two of you were sitting face-to-face and you leaned in, pressing your lips back to his, letting his hands grab your waist, fingers burning on the open slice of skin between your tank top and your shorts. Your tongue slipped between Bradley’s teeth, padding him gently. Every second, every breath, every touch made you feel like you were on fire, burning from the inside out. 

His hands slid up the back of your tank top, skimming bare skin, forcing goosebumps to rise on your legs and arms as your tongue swirled in his mouth. 

As you were lifting your hips, about to climb onto his lap, Bradley pulled away, his fingers still in your shirt, bunching it up so it ended just under your breasts. “Wait,” he whispered hoarsely. “We should take this slow.”

“Why?” You wanted him everywhere, anywhere, all at once. 

“I like you,” Bradley said softly. “I just, I don’t want to ruin this.” 

You wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t ruin things. That there was no way you could get sick of him. He was already intoxicating. 

Maybe that’s what he was concerned about. That the two of you would burn out so quick, a fireworks show at the end of a wedding, that he would be left to rot after. 

You nodded. “OK,” you whispered. “We can take it slow.” 

Bradley scooted onto the bed so the two of you were laying side by side. You easily nestled into his side, head in the crook between his arm and chest, your fingers splayed out on the cotton of his shirt, one leg slung over his. His hand softly stroked your side, pulling you in tighter. You whimpered softly as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stop that,” he muttered. 

You looked up innocently. “Stop what?” 

He looked down at you with a small grin. “Moaning like that.” 

You giggled. “Seriously?” 

Bradley nodded. He was dead serious. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at his pajama shorts, and sure enough, he was right. 

You turned your gaze back up at him. He was pink with embarrassment. Your fingers brushed back his hair from his eyes softly. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours softly. “I want you, Birdy. I mean it when I say that.” 

“I’m already yours,” you whispered. 

It was true. You belonged to Bradley. There would never be a moment in your life, after that night, where you didn’t belong to him. 

Even after it all went up in flames.

***

“Ms. Sullivan.” 

You stepped out onto the dance floor. There were five middle aged women wearing various levels of frowns staring back at you from behind a tablecloth-draped table that sat on the edge of the wooden floor. You gave them the best fake smile you could muster. 

“Please tell us about your plans for once summer is complete.” 

You sucked in a breath. The dress your mother had chosen for the interview portion of the debutant program was constrictive. A tight bodice. A puffy skirt, a pair of new strappy heels that had apparently ordered a hit on your pinky toe because it was getting murdered the longer you stood upright. “I will be attending Stanford in the fall.” 

“And what is your intended major?” 

“Biochemistry.”

A round of nods. “And your plans for after graduation?” 

“Medical school.” 

Ten eyes stared back at you. “And what discipline are you interested in?” 

“Obstetrics,” you replied. “Fetal surgery.” 

The frowns deepened. “And why surgery? Why medicine?” 

You knew what they wanted to hear. You also knew why they were asking. It may have been 2023, but this deep in Texas, a not-so-small collection of society still expected women to be wives. Mothers. Socialites. You had grown up knowing that when the time came, you could go one of two ways. 

You could go out, go to school, get a job. Maybe find a man, build a home, get married, have babies. 

Or you could do what your mother did. Find a man. Spend your life serving him, implicitly and explicitly. Raise a family. Join a club, join five of them. Join a board of trustees. Make a living out of telling people how long their grass could be before they cut it. Organize cocktail parties. 

“Ms. Sullivan?” The woman in the purple blouse at the end squinted at you. Suddenly, despite the air conditioning and the sleeveless dress, you felt sweat prickle your underarms. 

You nodded. “I want to save people,” you said softly. “I want to save babies so they can grow up and become people. So they get the chance to.” 

The row of heads bobbed in agreement. You smiled. You had passed. 

As you exited the room, your fingers were already on the back of your dress, yanking the ties apart, letting air back into your lungs. 

You stepped outside into the glaring sun. Let the heat start to melt your makeup off, make your hair frizz, forcing sweat to pool at your chest. 

You let it. It felt like punishment. 

***

Bradley had been staying at a friend’s house until the parents got in a fight and decided on a divorce, forcing his friend to move between houses and pushing Bradley out. 

“I’m fucking sorry man,” Landon said, shaking his head. “I really am.” 

“It’s alright,” Bradley replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t last forever, right?” 

“So, uh, where are you gonna go?” 

“Texas.” 

Landon squinted. “Texas? Why the fuck would you go to Texas?” 

Bradley pulled out his wallet, gently easing out a wrinkled photograph, unfolding it and holding it out. “Before she died, my mom gave me this. Said if I’m really in trouble, go find them. That they would help me.” 

“Who are they?” Landon examined the picture. He recognized Carole and Goose instantly. Even baby Bradley was pretty obvious. But the other couple and the second baby were a mystery. 

“Friends of my parents,” he said. “From Top Gun.” 

Landon frowned. “But they’re in Texas?” 

Bradley nodded. “Guess they moved a few years ago.” 

“Why them?” he asked. 

Bradley took the photo back, folding it up and carefully replacing it in his wallet. “I guess he dated my mom a long time ago. He’s technically my godfather.” 

***

“Be my date,” you whispered softly. 

Bradley’s fingers were dancing along your side, slipping softly under the band of your sleep shorts, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “What?” he asked. 

You rolled over so the two of you were face-to-face. “Be my date to the debutante ball.” 

“Birdy,” he murmured. “That’s never gonna happen.” 

“Why not?” You pushed yourself up onto one elbow. “I need an escort. Be my escort.” 

“Baby, you know why not,” he replied softly. “I’m not part of this world. I’m just some guy who lives in your house and eats your food. I’m not escort material. I’ll never be the kind of guy your parents approve of.” 

You ran your fingers down his cheek. “I don’t want to go with anyone but you.” 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised. “How does that sound?” 

You shook your head. “Not great. So you’re OK with some other guy holding me here.” You moved his hand until it was on your waist. “Dancing with me? Pressing himself against me?” 

Bradley growled softly. “Birdy,” he whispered. “Don’t make me jealous.” 

“I’m just trying to explain why I want you there.” 

“Baby,” he said softly. “If you want me there, I’ll be there. But it’s not up to me. And I don’t think it’s up to you, either.” 

“I’ll figure it out,” you replied. “Leave it with me.” 

Bradley smiled at you softly. You ran your hand down his chest before your fingers met the top of his boxers. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him. 

“Brad?” you asked softly. “Can I touch you?” 

He nodded anxiously. 

You took a deep breath, sliding your hand over the front of his boxers, palming him gently. He cock twitched, hardening under your touch, and you let out a contented sigh. God, he was massive. Your fingers rubbed over his length beneath his boxers before you reached up, pulling down the waistband. Bradley shifted so you were able to pull his boxers off entirely, his hard cock already dripping with precum. 

You sat up, cross legged, as Bradley sat with his back against the headboard and a mountain of fluffy white pillows. Slowly, you reached out, running your fingers over his length. Bradley let out a small whine, tipping his head back with his eyes closed as your hand closed around his shaft, thumb dragging the silken precum from his tip around the head of his cock as you wrapped your fingers around him tightly, sliding your fist from the base to the tip of his cock as he groaned beneath you. 

His cock was hard, almost pulsating, and you took your time dragging your fingers over his length. After a moment, you leaned forward, dribbling a pool of spit onto his tip, spreading it down over his cock with one quick movement. “Shit!” he groaned, unintentionally thrusting his hips up, seeking more friction. 

You kissed his cheek softly, still moving your hand along his cock. “I have you,” you whispered. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

The moonlight dripped through the skylights. You watched Bradley’s face. He was beautiful. You wanted him, all of him. You had never felt that kind of lust or need for someone before. 

You could feel him getting close. His cock was hard and hot in your hand and you rotated your wrist slightly in a small twisting pattern, causing Bradley to jerk his hips. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m close.” 

You shifted near him as Bradley’s free hand moved from where it had been sitting hot on your thigh to your breast, squeezing you over the thin cotton fabric. You moaned at the unexpected contact, and that alone drove Bradley overboard, a gasp leaving his mouth as you felt his hot cum spill over your fist, onto his stomach and all over your hand, a breathy moan on his lips as you worked him through the waves of the orgasm, his fingers gripping your breast tightly. 

Bradley’s eyes found yours. “Jesus,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I just–” 

You shook your head, letting him go softly, leaning forward and kissing his lips. “I loved it.” 

“Seriously?” 

You nodded, unfurling your legs, standing up. “Let me get a towel.” A second later,  you returned with a warm wet cloth, handing it to Bradley who cleaned himself up before pulling his boxers back on and leaning back with a sigh. You dropped the cloth back in the bathroom, settling back into Bradley’s side. 

He tugged you into his arms, his lips on yours before trailing down your neck, his hands hot on your back as he held you close. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured. 

“I wanted to.” Your fingers pressed against his neck, one of his thighs slotted between yours as you laid partly on top of him. You could feel how wet you were, the heat emanating from between your legs and when Bradley shifted slightly you groaned into his throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

He pulled back with a grin. “God, you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” 

You whined slightly as Bradley let his palm skim over your breast before his fingers touched the bare skin of your stomach, crawling up beneath your tank top until he had your entire breast in his large hand. Two fingers pinched your nipple softly and you let your head lull back in a moan. Bradley flipped you over until you were beneath him, his hand massaging your breast, hard, as you shook beneath him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes.” 

He leaned down, attaching his lips to your neck as his hand left your breast, heading south, smoothing over your hip down to your thigh. Bradley reached around, squeezing your ass, and you moaned into his mouth, shifting your hips higher, searching for friction.  

“Please,” you whined, desperate for him.

Bradley laughed a throaty chuckle against your forehead, kissing you softly as his fingers tracing over your hip bone before his palm pressed, hard, against the triangle between your thighs, his fingers dipping down between your legs, sliding between the slit, still on top of your tiny shorts. 

You moaned as he pressed his fingers deeper into your slit, the fabric now entirely soaked through by your excitement. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. You couldn’t help but nod wordlessly as he lifted his hand. Just as you went to argue at the loss of contact, he slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, his thick fingers stroking your soaking folds for the first time and you burrowed your face into his neck to muffle the sobs. 

You rocked against his palm as he slid one finger in your drenched cunt, the feeling of being filled by him unlike anything you had ever experienced. 

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley murmured as he sank another finger inside of you, thrusting up gently, curling at the top. You gripped his shirt with a tight fist, your chest heaving as a coil started to build in your abdomen as Bradley’s palm rubbed against your swollen clit. 

Bradley shifted his hand so his large thumb came in contact with your sensitive clit and you felt yourself tightening around his fingers. He groaned under his breath as you started to shake, a loud, whining moan leaving your mouth as you came all over his fingers. 

He slowly pulled his fingers out from inside of you and you were almost embarrassed to look at him. Bradley sat up, brushing his clean hand over your cheek, tipping your face toward his. “Birdy?” 

You looked up at him, face pink with exertion. 

“That was amazing,” he murmured. “Did you, did you like it?” 

You sat up, tossing your arms around his neck. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Later, once both of you had cleaned up, you laid back in your bed, sliding down below the comforter. Bradley stood next to the bed, the moonlight illuminating him from behind, like an angel. “I should go,” he whispered. It was almost four o’clock in the morning. 

“Stay,” you begged. The bed felt empty without him. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours softly. A whisper. “I can’t get caught, remember?” he asked. You nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK”

“Goodnight, Bradley,” you murmured. 

Bradley walked to the door, turning back with a smile. “Goodnight, Birdy.” 

You listened to him leave, the soft seal of the door as it closed, his footsteps that grew fainter as he made his way up the tower stairs. As you leaned back, you closed your eyes. 

Seventy one days. That’s all you had left. 

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[leifygreeens]

hello!! your writings are so fun to read!!

if its alright with you, could i please request maru x penny x gn! farmer !! it could be general headcanons or anything. maybe it could be like how they would prepare for and celebrate bdays? i think thatd be cute and maybe chaotic xD up to you >:3

Hey!! Sorry this is so overdue (I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot about the ask atp, my bad).

I really hope you like this, I'm sorry it's taken me so damn long to get this out to you, and as always, thank you for your request. I hope you have a lovely day, Anne! <3

Fluffy as hell. That's it, those are the warnings.

For birthdays and anniversaries, Maru and Penny will ask that you get home early, and get ready to go into town

You’ll shower, dress up a little more than usual, and walk to the Saloon

Maru and Penny reserve the private dining space, because the volume of the saloon is a little much when you’re looking for something intimate and personal

Gus is always happy to have you, and goes out of his way to make sure your dinner goes smoothly

He gives free desserts and drinks, as well, and will bring them to you with a grin

When dinner is finished, and you’ve all gone home, Penny and Maru will sit you down in the living room, and bring you their gifts

Penny typically goes for sentimental pieces, like annotated books and trinkets that hint at an inside joke or two, paired with heartfelt letters

Maru is less sappy, but just as sincere with her gifts

She’ll commonly gift you with machines she’s built to make your lives easier, or the occasional items she caught you staring at a little too long during your trips to the city

After presents, you’ll watch movies for a portion of the night, and when the light of day finally fades away, Maru and Penny will drag you up to the loft

“The loft” used to be the attic of the farmhouse, until Robin deconstructed the walls and the ceiling into an open air space, and cut out some bits of the roof to account for the windows to make some skylights

Cushioned with plenty of blankets and pillows that Penny thrifted or made herself, it’s a pretty cozy space

But you’ll climb up the ladder steps as a trio, and make yourselves comfortable

You always take the middle, with Maru and Penny on either side of you

There's several personalized things up there, like the mini bookshelf Penny and Maru use for their books (Maru loves her academic books, and Penny fills her shelves with classic and modern literature of all genres)

There's also a spot up there for your pets, and plenty of potted plants for extra greenery

Maru and Penny's favorite part of the loft is the bedded space, however

But anyway

Maru has her telescope up there, and (weather allowing) Maru will open one of the windows and you’ll stargaze

Sometimes Penny makes up stories for constellations, or tells you the stories she does know

You’ll point out stars or clouds of color in the night sky, and Maru will tell you exactly what they are, how they form, and she can tell you what they’re named, as well

But on the days where the weather isn’t so perfect, and the stars are obscured, the windows will stay closed, and you’ll watch the rain pitter against the glass or the lightning arc across the sky

On those days, you’ll talk about anything, everything

Or, if you prefer the quiet, Maru and Penny are content to just lay back and enjoy the sky with you

If your birthday or anniversary is in the winter, and the window has frosted over, then Penny will read to you

She always lets you pick the book you want her to read, and if you're feeling cheeky, you'll make her read one of those really sappy romance books she loves so much

Penny can never get through a reading without blushing like a madwoman, even later on in your marriage

It gives you and Maru more ammo to tease her, later ;)

You'll stay up there for the rest of the night, in a giant cuddle pile, sleeping comfortably in each other's arms

It’s safe, and cozy, and you wouldn't have it any other way

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Ingek73 found this fabulous condo in Amsterdam. Built 1905, the spacious 2fl. loft apt. has 2bd. 1 full & 2 half baths, and is listed for € 1,100M ($1,200M)..

Lovely original architecture.

The fabulous lobby, stairs and elevator. It looks like it comes right to the apt., and look at the storage in the hallway.

Isn’t this lovely? It’s like a little tunnel. 

Lovely open concept with lots of storage in the middle giving the right amount of separation between the spacious modern kitchen and dining room.

This is quite a huge dining table. You can have some wonderful dinner parties here.

Plenty of seating in the living room. Look at the splits in the beams and the indirect lighting above. 

The living room opens to a beautiful terrace that’s visible through glass doors & windows all year, giving a feeling of being outdoors.

Stairs to the 2nd level. On the landing is quite a big office space.

Private main bd.

The details are lovely- a nook and a glass window overlooking the stairs, plus an en-suite.

Beautiful en-suite has a large jetted tub and double-sized shower, plus a big skylight.

This I love- a private storage room.

And, of course it’s on the beautiful canal.

https://www.funda.nl/koop/amsterdam/appartement-42158491-herengracht-202-c/