#THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT HER RETURN WOULD BE. I THOUGHT SHE'D JUST BE SUPER FUCKED UP AGAIN BUT OH MY GOD

[kraviolis]

THEY FUCKING WINTER SOLDIER'D CLEO. THEY BRAINWASHED AND TORTURED HER SO MUCH SHE'S A SHELL OF WHO SHE WAS AND NOW THEY'RE GONNA SEND HER TO ASSASSINATE POLITICAL FIGURES

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2,187

> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!

The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.

That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.

"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."

That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.

You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.

Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.

"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."

"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.

Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.

Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.

In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.

His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.

He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.

"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.

You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.

As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.

"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.

"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."

"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."

"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.

"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.

As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.

"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.

Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"I see you've met the Prince."

Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.

"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."

"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."

Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.

Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.

"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"

"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."

"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.

"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.

"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."

You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.

"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.

"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.

"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.

The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.

"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."

"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."

"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."

"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.

"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

[woso-dreamzzz]

End of the World VI

Ruesha Littlejohn x Child!Reader

Summary: Your accidents

At first, when Rue heard that you had started to get accidents, she blamed Katie.

It was happening at Katie's house. It was Katie's problem so it must have been Katie's fault.

She didn't think it would be a problem at her house but, as she sits with you on her chest in the middle of the night, she finds out she was wrong.

It wasn't a Katie problem and it wasn't just happening at Katie's house.

You'd just rather sleep in your wet bed than tell Rue and bother her in the night when she's meant to be sleeping.

Clearly, this bed-wetting is worse than Rue thought and she feels absolutely terrible about sweeping away Katie's concerns. She was so unbothered after deciding it was Katie's problem that she hadn't even considered it was happening at hers too.

"Katie," Rue says the next morning after you're clipped into Katie's car and the door is shut," What make is your baby monitor?"

Katie frowns. "Why?"

"Because I want to get one too, obviously."

Katie keeps frowning but she still replies," I'll send you the link."

Rue orders it as soon as Katie texts her. It takes her a while to set it up (she's a big believer in institutions being unneeded and threw them away before she'd even plugged the monitor in) but once it's done, she's sure that it'll come in handy.

It's what Katie uses to catch when you've had an accident and if Katie can work out how to use it then Rue can too.

You're returned to her the next week and Rue catches an accident every night like clockwork. Sometimes more than once and she can't believe that she missed it if it was happening this often.

It's not a little slip either.

It's a big step backwards to the point that she's started putting you in pull ups whenever you go to bed and whenever you go out after one time too many times when you forgot to tell her that you needed the toilet while at training.

It was humiliating for you.

Everything was humiliating. The pull ups. The accidents. The vicious back and forth between your mothers.

They don't speak bad about each other when you're around. Or, at least, they don't speak bad about each other when they know you're around.

Sometimes, when you're meant to be in bed, you sneak out and listen to your mothers complain about each other.

You don't know why Ma and Mammy don't like each other anymore. They used to love each other. They used to love each other enough to have you.

Now they can barely stand to look at each other and they're both breaking the most sacred rule.

If you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.

It bubbles up inside you, keeping what Ma says about Mammy a secret and keeping what Mammy says about Ma a secret too.

It swirls and stews somewhere deep in your belly until it all comes out one evening at Mammy's house after an uncharacteristic third accident of the night.

It bubbles out until you're sobbing about everything, stemming back all the way from that rainy evening when Ma tried to take you away with her the night she and Mammy broke up officially.

It bubbles out and you scream and cry in just your pull up and a sleep shirt.

It bubbles out and you scream and cry until Katie and Rue are in the same room together for the first time in a while.

You're at the park with Caitlin, taken away from this inevitable mess.

"It's both of our faults," Rue suddenly admits, very much against her will," Her bed wetting. We're not nice to each other and it doesn't work well with her nervous disposition."

"I agree," Katie says. She glances out the window, unwilling to look at her ex.

"So we agree, yes?"

"Yes."

"So...What do we do about this?"

Katie sighs, still unwilling to look. Rue's not looking at her either so at least it's mutual. "I guess we stop slagging each other off to other people."

Rue sighs too. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Do we take her to the doctor?"

"If she's keep wetting by the end of the month then, yeah, I think so."

Katie nods. "So, we're putting whatever this rivalry is aside to her?"

Rue huffs with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so."

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

[albedov]

this got a bit longer than i anticipated- requested by @velixxis ^^ part 1 here

you were embarrassed to say the least. when you sent those messages you didn't exactly know what would happen but you knew it felt nice to finally get all those feelings out. but you hadn't thought it out further, hadn't anticipated that by some stroke of bad luck someone saw those messages.

true to feixiaos's word, she tracked you down not too long after she parted with jiaoqiu. you knew from the very moment that she started talking about “you and jiaoqiu” that somehow she saw those messages. and at that very moment you wished for one of lan's arrows to strike you down then and there.

and even at your very evident embarrassment that she had seen the messages and now was aware of your crush, feixiao continued talking to you about him. and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse she posed the question -

“so how are you going to confess? and i mean for real this time”

feixiao “assured” you that he wasn't aware of the messages but it was clear that she was very invested into becoming you and jiaoqiu's matchmaker.

you tried getting across to her that those messages were just to get your feelings out, that it was easier to move on from your crush because you always thought that it wouldn't go anywhere - the reason why you'd never confessed before.

but feixiao knew differently, although she found it more amusing (for her at least) if she didn't inform you of what she'd heard from jiaoqiu. so she had absolute confidence when she proudly told you to meet her somewhere the next day.

you had no idea why, but you obliged - perhaps some part of you knew what she was doing and so maybe the part of you that still longed for him forced you to go. and so you waited for her.

even when you saw feixiao in the distance walking towards you, a familiar pink haired foxian beside her, even when dread and nerves consumed your senses, you stayed. even when she proudly announced their arrival and prompted you to greet jiaoqiu, you complied.

you didn't know where this confidence had come from considering this had all happened because of your cowardice to confess through messages, ones that you knew the recipient wouldn't ever see. but it quickly wavered when jiaoqiu said your name at the sound of your voice.

feixiao hadn't told him where she was taking him. but he could recognise your voice anywhere, a sweet melody that he missed dearly. jiaoqiu hadn't seen you much after returning to the yaoqing and it pained him, so hearing your voice again was a silent relief for him.

the air soon hung with silence and feixiao held up jiaoqiu's phone, opened up on your messages, and silently prompted you to confess. your nerves were still eating away at you but your confidence slowly crept back - you also knew feixiao was very insistent on you doing this.

and eventually you poured out every heartfelt confession and feeling that you had kept bottled up. it felt so nice to finally, properly, get everything off your chest that you forgot jiaoqiu was actually before you and when you did realize, you froze up.

what if he rejected you? oh you were so embarrassed… you should've never let feixiao get you into this mess-

“me too”

you heard the gentle tone in his voice, the kind he always used when it was just the two of you, a moment of pure affection and care.

“i love you”

[midnightsimpsstuff]

DO YOU EVEN CARE?

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Includes: established relationship, signs of cheating, slight angst, self doubt, mentions of bad family, takes place in third year, no communication, happy ending.

a/n: Had an idea, ran with it, in love with it, posting it, hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2.2k

Your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki wasn't really a physical affection kind of person, he was more verbal, saying the most beautiful things about you, always knowing what to say when you feel down, that was just how he was.

Sometimes you wished he showed he cared, he doesn't hug you unless you initiate it, he doesn't kiss you on his own; only doing it if you ask or kiss him first, doesn't cuddle with you when you share a bed unless you happen to sleep on him only then might he awkwardly put an arm around you.

It annoyed you, of course, it was cute to you the first few months of your relationship, it's been six months now it wasn't so cute anymore.

At one point it made you wonder whether he truly cared about you, you felt like you should talk to him about it but you couldn't bring yourself to, you felt like it would be weird and you weren't the one to talk about emotions like Shoto was, you showed them unlike he did.

You had tried to show him you weren't happy, not talking to him, not kissing him, not hugging him, walking away when he starts talking, but he wasn't seeming yo get it.

You sent your friend, Midoriya, to see how he was feeling about it. He had returned with news of what Shoto had said which made you even madder than before.

"Well Midoriya, I have noticed her being weird, I know it's my fault by I'm assuming she'd tell me when she's ready." he said, and you imagined him saying it too which made you feel worse.

That statement made it obvious he cared about you, you aren't dumb but you would like it if he showed it, you felt touch deprived constantly and you're not single, you aren't meant to feel that way.

You rolled your eyes when he finished telling you, your friend Denki had now sat beside you two and had joined the conversation. You didn't send him away so he stayed thinking about something.

"Do you think you should try making him jealous to see if he'd care?" Denki asked and you actually thought about it for a moment, it seemed smart but not so much you didn't want to seem like your cheating on him, that's to far.

"I don't want to cheat on him, or do weird shit to other people, it's to far Denks" you said leaning deeper into the couch you sat on side by side with your friends.

"Wait, what if you don't do anything, what if we do all the things and make it look as innocent as it usually is." Midoriya said as his eyes slightly widened, it was a perfect plan in his eyes.

You smiled, this was perfect, you could finally see if he truly cared.

"So boys, what should we do?" you said while smirking like a Cheshire cat with a master plan, they couldn't help but do the same.

That's what brought you here, in Midoriya's arms as he held you bridal style, you both laughing about something, staying outside not noticing as Todoroki was in the common room, seeing you and watching you from inside.

Or maybe you two noticed and that's why you two were giving each other more platonic affection than normal.

Shoto watched you two, he thought you two looked happy and he was happy his best friend and girlfriend got along well. He wouldn't lie he was disturbed by Deku's hand placement but didn't think much of it you two didn't seem like you understood what you were doing so he shrugged it off.

And he most especially tried his best not to stare when he watched Deku effortlessly move you from both hands to one hand holding you up as you wrapped you hands around his neck still engaged in your conversation.

When you two passed the common room, Shoto waved and greeted you both but you both didn't notice him, or to you both ignored him continuing your conversation as Deku carried you up the stairs and as far as Todoroki knows to his room.

But to you two, you were peeking at him from the stairs, you watched as he sadly put his hand hand down, but as soon as the frown came on his face it disappeared, he didn't seem fazed at all.

He had just assumed you were still ignoring him for something he is yet to know he did, so he shrugged it off, thinking of what he could do to make it up to you, he missed you but he won't tell you that so it won't seem like he's manipulating you to take him back.

You felt a little bad, but you instantly stopped feeling it when Deku rubbed your back comfortingly telling you a 'Better luck next time' and you began feeling angry again.

It was dinner time now, luck was not on your side, Shoto was yet to come over, to talk to you, to kiss you, to love you like you wanted. Oh, how you wish you could just talk to him.

Denki was being his usual clingy self to everyone, so it didn't take anyone by surprise when he jumped on Shoto when he came in, hugging him, but all your boyfriend did was hug him back before carefully pushing him away then taking a seat.

You were already sat, and he happened to seat diagonally from you, perfect for him to see you but you wouldn't see him, so you won't be angry.

But you were angry because you weren't seeing him. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong everything was so stressful to you.

Denki took the seat beside you and before Bakugou dropped the plates for all of your foods, Denki pulled your chair closer to yours.

You giggled all pick me girl like, as you two had practiced, "When did you get so strong, Denks" you said as you playfully nudged him.

He smiled back at you, looking charming if you do say so yourself, but to everyone else he looked quite flirty.

Todoroki saw it, and he wished it was him that did that, wished he would kiss you after but he knows he can't because he doesn't know how to ask for, or how to do it without a little push.

He sighed before going back to eating the delicious meal Bakugou happened to make, he decided he was going to ask you something that night.

Dinner was over and you were the last one to finish eating, well you and Bakugou since he ate last and stayed back to make sure everyone washed their plates.

As you finished washing your plate you heard someone calling your name, but it was definitely not Shoto, "Bakugou, did you call me?" you said turning over to the boy sitting on the counter away from the sink, glaring at you.

"What's up with you and Icy Hot?" he asked, and you felt yourself heat up in embarrassment.

Bakugou was your friend, but you didn't think you two were close enough for him to notice something like that.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" you couldn't help the way your voice sounded a little smaller than usual.

"You keep on avoiding the guy, the shit you and Denki pulled during dinner, and I saw as the nerd carried you upstairs." he said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Then his glare tensed, then his body relaxed and he stared at you, "We don't talk a lot but that doesn't mean you can't tell me what's up" he said, and you realised you didn't have much to lose anyways.

"I feel like he doesn't care about me at times. Thats why I've been flirting with Deku and Denks because I want him to feel jealous, it's my twisted way of making him care" you said and it sounded stupid to say out loud now, most especially with the person you were talking to.

"You know your dumb as shit, it's obvious that boy cares about you." he said matter of factly.

"No, but he doesn't show it." you said, as your eyes watered and your voice cracked.

You had grown up with the type of family that doesn't say 'I love you all the time' they showed the love. With warm hugs and cheap but sentimental presents. You found it hard to talk about your problems that way and it wasn't any of their fault.

"Have you told him this?" he said and all you shook your head, the tears were leaving your eyes now and your head was down.

"Why don't you try telling him, because he's not like me that would get you to talk he prefers it if you talk to him about it on your own accord." he said and you had subconsciously moved closer to him now.

"Thanks BK, I'd talk to him tomorrow he should be getting ready for his study session now, can't disturb him." you said, joking at the end and laughing a bit.

"Can I hug you? You can totally say no, but I think I need a hug right now." you said now wiping your tears.

He pulled you in, although he was sitting on the counter he seemed bigger than you. You hugged him feeling comfortable in his arms.

Before you pulled away and went to your dorm not noticing the person watching you both and finally understood why this way happening in the first place.

"Got that, two tones?" Bakugou said as he jumped of the counter and faced his friend, that seemed to be lost in thought.

"Yes, thank you Bakugou." Shoto said as he smiled at Bakugou.

Bakugou nudged him, "You're welcome, both of you are my friends, I look out for my friends." Bakugou walked away, hands in his pockets thinking about what a good person he was and an even better hero that he was going to be.

Todoroki knew he had to do what he does best, talk to you about it.

A soft knock was heard on your door, you were sat on your bed, practicing what you would say to Shoto when you saw him before you went to open the door and saw the man you had been thinking about for a while.

You stood frozen, looking up at your unnecessarily attractive boyfriend, thinking to yourself when or where you two went wrong, well mostly you. Where you went wrong.

"Can I come in?" he said while gazing down at you, thinking the exact same thing, when did you two go wrong?

You mumbled an 'of course' before moving out of the doorway for him to get in, locking the door behind him.

He sighed then turned to look at you as you rested on the door, "I heard your conversation with Bakugou" he started but before you could apologise he pressed his finger to your lips like he was telling you to stay quiet, so you did.

"Since you don't know, I find it hard to express myself through actions because that's not the way I grew up contrary to you." he had now taking his finger away from your lips and now held your hand.

"Where you hug your mum to show her you love her, I'd tell her I love her, because that's how we are. While yours get random gifts, mine talk to each other when I successfully run away from my father."

"It's how we are, it's how you are, our differences is what brought us together, you know?" he said as his eyes went a bit glossy that's how you realised you were crying silent tears.

"I'm sorry I made you feel shitty but you make me feel shitty too you know? I feel shitty when everytime I tell you I love you you respond with a nod and nothing more, or when we walk to class together and I'm trying to tell you about my night your not listening— "but I am" — but you don't show it! How do you want me to know if I don't hear you say anything?" Both of you were now sitting on your bed you don't know how but it felt more comforting.

"Shoto baby, I'm sorry, could you forgive me?" you said looking at him after wiping your tears.

"Of course, only if you forgive me and promise you'd communicate with me more" he said laughing now, 'damn my boyfriend is quite easy on the eyes' you couldn't help but think.

"I promise but only if you promise to be more affectionate" you said while he moved closer to you.

"I promise." you said smiling wildly but surprisingly you felt lips on yours and you immediately closed your eyes and held your boyfriends gave lovingly.

When you two parted, you both just looked in each other's eyes, "I love you, Shoto Todoroki." you said while holding his hand really tight. He nodded and looked away.

You couldn't help the pang in your heart. "Is this what it feels like when I do it?" you said laughing as you moved deeper into your bed getting ready for sleep.

"Yes" he laughed as he came in with you cuddling into you causing you to smile.

"But I love you too, Y/N L/N." he said while nuzzling his face into your neck. You sighed contentedly then you were out like a light.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then fall part.3

Description: In which Aeron is Y/N's knight in shining armour and Benjicot has a soft spot for Bracken ladies crossing the border (this may be an Easter egg for future crossovers with The Blackwood Knight series 😏)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Playlist:

Fearless~ Taylor Swift @ithilwen-blackwood you are so right about Aeron being Fearless coded.

Somebody to You~ The Vamps

Hold my Girl~ George Ezra

Warnings: Canon typical misogyny, mentions of a panic attack, angst, swearing, I don't understand basic geography so I'm just making things up topographically

Y/N had hoped that taking a walk along the bank of the Red Fork would help clear her mind from the swirling thoughts that had consumed her mind of late since her return to the Riverlands. To her dismay, the gentle babbling of the river and the quiet beauty of the landscape she called home did little to distract her from thoughts of Aeron Bracken. Detained by his duties that morning, they had arranged to meet later that day. Her truest friend since she was but a girl, even the separation of many years had failed to sever their bond. Quite the opposite, and that is where the problem lay. Y/N had thought about Aeron Bracken often during her time in Kings Landing, constantly wondering whether he missed her as much as she missed him. When her father had informed her of their imminent return to the Riverlands, Y/N was delighted at the prospect of being reunited with her old friend. Whilst she had adapted to life in Kings Landing and forged new friendships, none had been as strong as the one she had made with the young Bracken boy.

She had convinced herself that everything could be just as it had been when they were children, determined to befriend him anew. But she had not counted on the butterflies that had arisen in her abdomen upon seeing him for the first time as a young man, a knight. He struck a dashing figure in the garb of his order and the colours of his house. She recalled thinking him pretty, almost like a woodland sprite as a child with his long locks of hair and sharp features. In that moment, she thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen. She found herself wanting to trace the outline of his cheekbones with her fingertips, to run her hands through his hair, which she rejoiced to see he still kept long, and she wanted to gaze into his warm brown eyes forever as they bore down into her own.

She did not know what she had been expecting, but Aeron Bracken was no longer the gangly boy she'd trusted enough upon first meeting to break her fall from the Brackentree. By the end of the evening Y/N feared that she might be falling in love this time, against all reason. He was the heir of Stone Hendge and would one day be Lord Bracken. Worse, he had been her closest friend and she had hoped he would be again. Y/N had no desire to jeopardise their friendship now they had been reunited.

While Aeron had by no means acted coldly towards her when his uncle had reintroduced them, she could not but notice how reserved and shy he seemed around her that first evening, holding her at somewhat of a distance. Several moons had passed since then and their rekindled friendship seemed stronger than ever, and there were many times when Y/N was certain Aeron shared her sentiments. He had never expressed it through words, but she had thought she had understood it in his actions.

By the way he would always read to her, knowing that she found the sound of his voice comforting, shoulders or arms always somehow brushing as they sat by side. By the way he would often bring her the flowers she adored so much, when she knew the Eastern part of the Bracken Woods where they could be found were nowhere near the training yard from whence he had come. By his gentleness towards her, always holding a hand out to help her over an obstacle and walking her home each day. And by the way he would gaze at her so attentively, looking at her as if she were the most interesting thing in his world no matter what their course of their current conversation was.

Yet Y/N was nervous to broach the subject, aiming to encourage Aeron through her own affectionate gestures and always hoping that her feelings for him were reciprocated. Mulling over her options, Y/N realised she had reached the outermost boundaries of Bracken lands, nearly stumbling over a pile up of boundary stones. Immediately turning to return back the way she had come, a jolt of raw panic pierced her heart as she spotted four Blackwood Knights storming angrily towards her. The one closest to her had a face like a storm cloud, his booming voice breaking the tranquility of the landscape.

"Bracken wench. Did you think you could just waltz right into Blackwood lands?" He sneered at her, voice dripping with venom. She opened her mouth to explain that his anger was misdirected, she had not crossed the boundary and was not strictly speaking a Bracken, but as he continued to glare furiously down at her she realised that she had chosen today of all days to wear a dress of mellow ochre, closely resembling the colours of House Bracken. She was immediately certain that nothing she said would carry much weight and started to take small but hurried steps backwards away from him, suddenly hoping Aeron would turn up and immediately cursing herself for the thought. It was not his responsibility to rescue her from every scrape she found herself in, she was no longer a child, and she would rather face a hundred shouting Blackwoods than see her knight endanger himself for her.

To her dismay the Blackwood Knight continued to advance towards her, suddenly taking hold of both her elbows in a bruising grip and aggressively shaking her.  "You think you can do whatever you want, don't you? You smug Brackens. But these are Blackwood lands and there are consequences for crossing them."  Panicking in earnest now, and finding herself unable to speak, Y/N feared the Blackwood would strike her or kill her where she stood, his anger so palpable and his iron grip searing through the fabric of her dress.

Her mind frantically fought for a way out of this situation, but before Y/N could act upon any of her admittedly half-baked escape plans she felt the Blackwood release her arms as he was abruptly shoved away from her onto the ground. A gentle but firm hand encircled her wrist, and she was swiftly pulled backwards as her rescuer took up a protective stance in front of her. Her relief at the realisation that the shoulders now concealing her from view were Aeron's was short lived, quashed by an intense wave of fear and nausea at the danger she had unwittingly placed him in.

Samwell was starting to get on Aeron's nerves. He'd been badgering him all day to tell Y/N how he felt, Tully girl be damned. He'd then been insistent on meeting Y/N with him after they'd finished in the training yard, much to Aeron's chagrin. The two had become dangerously conspiratorial, often banding together to tease him, and Aeron was unhappy to have to share Y/N's attention. His mood soured further when Jon and Edmund (who he always thought resembled a peacock) had similarly decided to tag along. He found himself marching along the Red Ford to meet Y/N with his friends in tow.

Distant shouting caught his attention as they passed close to the border. What he saw directly ahead of him had him seeing red and breaking into a run before his friends could fully comprehend what had set him off. Before he'd fully come to a stop he used his momentum to forcibly shove the Blackwood brute he'd seen manhandle Y/N away from her. Pulling Y/N behind him he tried to push her gently backwards towards Samwell who'd been hot on his heels.

"You dare attack a lady?" Aeron seethed, hand clasping the hilt of his sword. The Blackwood Knight had stumbled back up to his feet, three more Blackwoods hovering just behind him. "The stupid girl trespassed on our lands!"

Aeron stepped forward threateningly, glaring at the craven bastard who dared to insult Y/N. "They're Bracken lands, and if you speak another word about my lady you'll regret it." Suddenly Aeron felt a smaller hand grab his, tugging him backwards. "Please Aeron, it does not matter."

Y/N's voice was barely above a whisper and tears streamed down her face. It was all Aeron could do not to fell the Blackwood responsible where he stood for causing her state of distress. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but he did not trust to turn his back on the Blackwood Knights when she was still in danger.

Samwell stepped between Aeron and the Blackwood. "The lady meant no harm, let's set the matter to rest." His tone was placating but firm and, for the most part, the Blackwoods seemed to have tired of the whole affair, turning to walk away. Aeron turned to look at Y/N, lightly cupping her cheek and bending down to look into her eyes. "Are you well my love?" She looked quizzically up at him, slowly nodding but still visibly shaken, trembling slightly. Aeron took deep breathes, trying to root himself to the ground and will himself not to do something reckless.

He might have successfully calmed himself enough to walk away as Y/N had asked, had he not heard the Blackwood bastard mutter under his breath "Bracken whore." Aeron removed himself from Y/N in the next second, his sword drawn and pointing directly at the Blackwood's heart, the sound of metal echoing throughout the clearing as more swords were drawn. Samwell quickly grabbed Y/N's arm to lightly drag her further backwards. The Blackwood Knight looked almost surprised at the unbridled rage on Aeron's face.

"What's all this then?" The smug face of Benjicot Blackwood as he strolled calmly towards the scene, as infuriatingly confident as ever. "Brackens can't fucking keep within the boundary lines" one of the Blackwood Knights snarled. "Your Knights attacked a lady, Blackwood" Aeron snapped back. "She should not have come so close to the border then!"

The young lord of Raventree seemed to assess the truth of the situation in mere moments, his eyes darkening. "I am sorry for the lady's distress, I will not permit any of my Knights to attack a woman on my lands" the last part addressed to his fellow Blackwoods. Benjicot turned slowly back towards Aeron, his expression far more serious than Aeron had ever seen it in any of their past interactions. "I trust you will honour the boundary stones in future Bracken."

Aeron said nothing, just glowering back at the Blackwood boy as he watced him turn away, signalling with a wave of his arm for the Blackwood Knights to follow. Aeron watched them walk away for a few moments before turning back around, looking for Y/N only to lock onto her a few yards away hyperventilating, a panicking Samwell frantically trying to calm her down. Aeron sprinted over, pushing Samwell aside. "It's ok Sam, I've got her."

Lowering himself to her level he cupped her face, trying to get her to meet his eyes all the while trying to reassure her in hushed tones only she could hear. "Hey, hey it's all OK. You're safe, no one will harm you, I swear to you."

Still struggling for breath, Y/N gasped out "I thought he'd kill you. And it would be all my fault." Aeron felt his heart stop for a moment at Y/N's heartfelt concern for him but any satisfaction he would have felt from such a confession was diminished by Y/N's sharp intakes of breaths and tear-stained face, which pulled at his heart strings. His primary concern was to calm her down, starting with assuring her that he was ok. "None of what transpired is your fault." Grabbing her hand, he pressed it firmly to his chest. "Can you feel my heartbeat beneath your palm?" Y/N looked up at him, nodding slowly. "I am unharmed." He spoke slowly, looking into her eyes, trying to keep her focus on him. Y/N's breathing slowly began to even out as she continued to feel the steady beat of Aeron's heart and the comforting heat of his hand atop hers, holding it in place over his chest.

Aeron did not know how much time they passed in this manner. After a time Y/N slumped onto him, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck in exhaustion as he supported most of her weight. Tentatively adjusting his hold on her, Aeron moved his hands up and down her back in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

"I could not bear it if they'd hurt you because you were defending me." Y/N's voice was muffled by the fabric of his tunic but he heard her easily.

Tilting his head down close to her ear, Aeron replied in a soft tone "I will always defend you."

Y/N loosened the tight grip she had on his tunic to look up at him with eyes still blurry from tears. "Why?"

"Because I love you." Aeron had envisioned many scenarios for how he would confess his love to Y/N. But in the end the words fell from his lips almost without his permission. He had been so concerned for Y/N's safety, so angered to see her harmed and in tears, so grateful for her concern for him in spite of her own safety, and so relieved to see her well that the words came naturally. "What?" Y/N's eyes had widened  almost comically.

Aeron mustered all of the courage he possessed, taking a deep breath. "I said that I love you. I will always defend the woman I love." He shut his eyes briefly, lowering his head and waiting for her response.

"I Love you too, you silly boy."

His eyes snapped back up to meet her waiting smile.

"I think I have loved you ever since you coaxed me into jumping out of that tree."

He moved his hands to her waist, holding her in place and slowly moving his face closer to hers, noses lightly brushing against one another. "That is not exactly how I remember it, but I have loved you just as long."

Y/N laughed at that, bringing a hand back up to his tunic to pull him closer.

" May I kiss you?" Their close proximity had made Aeron braver than he'd normally be and the words left his mouth before he could rethink them.  Y/N responded by gently pressing her lips to his own, pulling away shortly afterwards. Aeron found himself chasing her lips and pulling her back towards him by her waist as she brought her hands up to his shoulders to grant her more leverage as their lips moulded together once more. Their first kiss was not the sweeping embrace of legends, it was clumsy and inexperienced, noses bumping against each other and teeth knocking together. Aeron found he did not care, pouring all of the love he felt for Y/N into each brush of his lips against hers.

Feral pretty Bracken defending his lady.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress

[bandgie]

Agora Hills

Changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: You thought breaking up with Changbin was for the best, but he's here to remind you that's completely and utterly wrong.

warnings: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes, exes-to-lovers, rich!changbin, he's an asshole but means well, some angst mostly fluff, thats it lol

1.5k words

It's not as though you hated Changbin, quite the opposite actually.

He's caring, sweet, and would rip the shirt off his back if you asked. He would treat you well, spoil you like a baby. He's really the whole package...all for one thing.

As sweet as he is to you, he's too snobby with other people. You knew he had money, lots of it. Anyone with that amount to their name can let it get to their head, but Changbin loved showing off how much he had. You couldn't do it anymore.

The final straw was when you were out on a double date with your friends. The restaurant wasn't up to Changbin's taste, and he made it very clear he did not like it to everyone. You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but it was hard not to when he said, "This is why I don't like hanging out with the middle class, no offense. You guys just have no taste."

You saw red. Here was your boyfriend belittling the class your family has had to work their way into. With clenched teeth you apologized to your friends, broke up with Changbin, and had your friends drive you home.

It's been two weeks, and he's been calling you nonstop. Text after text, call after call, voicemail after voicemail. When you weren't picking up, he started sending gifts to your door. Jewelry, bouquets of flowers, clothes you knew cost more than your rent. Changbin had a habit of showing his love through materialistic ways, but it was getting annoying having to return them back to his address.

"You should ask for a car," your roommate chirps. 

You only rolled your eyes and groaned in return. You slumped further into the couch before burying your face in your hands. 

"You're supposed to be helping me," you say frustratingly. 

"I am," she protests. "Your shit car is breaking down, again, and you and I both know damn well your little sugar daddy would love to buy you a better one."

Angrily, you place your hands on the sides of the couch and sit up. "He's not my sugar daddy! Don't call him that."

Your roommate tsks and shakes her head, "Whatever. Have you called him at least?" 

You shake your head back, "I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"Well, maybe you should," she reasons. "Some guys need to hear it more than once, especially if you just up and left him like that. Who knows, maybe you can work things out too."

"I have," you stress. "He's just so...ignorant sometimes. And plus, I can't take him back after what he said to you."

Rather than seeming upset, your roommate shrugs. "I've heard worse. Plus I don't think he meant it in a bad way, like you said, he's just a little ignorant."

Her aloofness makes you both on edge and at ease. It's good to hear that she wasn't as offended as you thought she'd be, but her being so nonchalant about your situation is irritating. 

In times like these, you wish someone could just tell you what to do. 

"I say you call him," she answers your prayers. "If he's an ass, it only proves that you were right to dump him. If he's not, then you either owe him a better breakup or another chance."

Finding resolution, you stand to your feet and grab your phone from the coffee table. "You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is."

-

Changbin picks up on the first ring. Not that it should surprise you, but the rehearsed words die in your throat when he answers with an overly excited hello?

When you don't answer he prompts you again, "Baby...are you there?"

You can feel the way your heart clenches at the pet name. It's only been a mere two weeks since you've heard his voice and you're already wanting to cry. 

"Don't call me that," your voice is small. 

"Why not?" He asks. You can hear how shaky his voice is, but you convince yourself it's the static. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have said that in the first place. "Are you not my baby anymore?"

You have to chew on your bottom lip and look up to the ceiling of your room to keep yourself from crying. A few seconds pass before you speak, "I dunno...Changbin you really...you really messed up."

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm stupid. I hurt you and embarrassed you in front of your friends. I would do it over again if I could, baby believe me. We can fix this, I can be better. I love you, you know that."

He's right, you do know that. There wasn't a moment in your relationship where you doubted his love for you. Changbin has been a little snobby before, but that doesn't compare to his overwhelming adoration for you.

"I love you too Binnie," you sniff. "I wanna fix this too."

You swear you can hear him smile behind the phone. "That's all I need to hear baby. You mean so much to me that I can't even explain it, you know that?"

Despite the tears on your waterline you laugh, "Yeah I do Binnie. You mean a lot to me too."

Changbin laughs with you. "I miss you baby...it's so lonely in my mansion."

Whatever tenderness you had filling your heart dissipates and is replaced with agitation. "Jesus this is exactly what I mean! It's those little stupid fucking remarks that-"

"No! Baby baby I didn't mean it like that! It's a Doja Cat song-"

"-and here I was really wanting to make things work and you just-"

The two of you begin to talk over one another, the previous confessions nearly forgotten. It takes Changbin profusely apologizing and begging for you to stop arguing. 

"Over the phone isn't gonna cut it. I'll send a limo and you can come over. Please baby, we can fix this."

You sigh heavily and collapse on your bed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Okay."

-

No matter how many times you enter Changbin's house, if you can call it that, it always leaves you breathless. Polished floors, high ceilings, with chandeliers dangling up above you. It's clean, not a speck of dust in sight, most likely thanks to the many invisible housemaids. 

He had ushered you to his room, sitting you on his couch as he remained standing. 

It felt good to see him, even if you were pissed. He was as muscular as ever, a black tank top showing his pecs and arms deliciously. He must've worked out before you came, he tended to use the gym as a stress reliever. 

"There's really no excuse I have other than I'm stupid." Changbin starts. 

You let a small breath of air out that mimics laughter, "You don't have to tell me that.

Changbin smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He pauses. "At the dinner, I really don't know why I even said that. I didn't mean to hurt you, or your friends. It's was inappropriate and fucked up of me. We can go and I can apologize to them. Anything you want me to do, just name it."

Timidly, he gets on his knees between your legs and takes your hands into his own. "I love you. I love everything about you even if I complain like an idiot. I'm just not used to...some things, but I don't want that to be the end of us. I can learn, and I can change. Just don't leave me. Please."

God, if there's one thing Changbin is good at, it's begging. His hot breath fans over your bare legs, sending chills up your body. You can feel the heat of his body rolling off onto yours. He looks beautiful. His dark, messy curls that sit at the top of his head, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips pout. 

As big as he is, he's still a baby.

Your baby.

Gently, you untangle your hands from his, and his face drops for a moment. You quickly place them on his face, pulling him forward until his lips meet your own. 

Changbin squeaks at the feel of your kiss, but his initial shock turns into passion. He grips the side of your face with one hand while the other steadies himself on your knee. It's gentle, the way he pulls back for a moment before diving back in.

There’s nothing but love in his featherlight lips enveloping yours. All you can feel is him, his passion, his devotion to you. All the things he wants to say- no, he needs to say is conveyed through the kiss.

His hands snakes to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. It doesn't take long before his lips don't feel like enough, and you're both opening your mouths to taste each other. 

It makes your heart swoon to know that he tastes the same. Familiar. Safe. 

Changbin grows bold, the hand on your knee moving up to grip the plushness of your thighs. 

"So, you forgive me?" He asks between kisses.

You pull back and pretend to think, "I don't know. Why should I?"

This makes Changbin smile, fully. "I can show you. Would that be better?"

The hand on your thigh inches to the hem of your shorts. The way his warm fingers caress your skin makes you involuntarily open your legs a little wider. 

"I guess that'll do for now."

a/n: this is a little different from what I usually post, but I like it. hope you do too! thank you @then-make-me for editing/proofreading!

[spitdrunken]

really loved your Adami x reader work. Ever since I saw her I was like “wow. I want her” and honestly bought the game for her lmao. (Not pressuring you) hope you write more of her in the future :] really saved me here, bc counting yours I’ve only managed to find 3 works with mc x reader

Adami x Reader is genuinely really rare </3! I think she's cute, though and REALLY MESSED UP, haha. Have a little thought I had earlier :3! It's not exactly cute or nice though, I'm sorry if you were looking for that sob

notes: Ms. Crowbar AU (Monster!Adami, has Mr. Scarletella as her servant.), graphic depictions of violence (reader is not hurt), Adami is . a bit mean in this one, heavily implied poly relationship

You'll never know whether she was always like this. Perhaps she was a more balanced, a better person, before she'd lost all of her sanity in these endless, looping hallways. All that you know is that, right now, Ms. Crowbar always wants to be the one in control of any given situation, and is greedy when it comes to her own amusement. Violent or otherwise.

With your hard-to-define relationship, this means that you'll have to carefully read her body language when reaching out to touch her. Preferably, she would initiate almost everything herself. Sometimes, she'll just make you sit down in a chair and plop herself in your lap, crimson eyes never closing as she peppers kisses all over your face and rubs her cheek against yours. When she feels like sleeping and curls up into a bed, she'll always be in the middle between you and Mr. Crawling. (And, of course, Mr. Scarletella is always right there, oftentimes relegated to a third wheel due to the lack of a physical body. You'd feel worse for him if you hadn't caught a glimpse to what she does to the handle of his umbrella.)

You don't mind it so much when she's needy for physical affection. When her violent impulses rear their head though, you always have a decidedly worse time. Like now.

Your hands shake around the weapon Ms. Crowbar pushed into your hands. The human before you shakes and trembles, legs left in odd angles down the knee from her precise strikes. His hands have begun to blotch with the Other World's corruption, and yet… Even knowing his death won't be permanent, your stomach twist and turns. Tears drip down his face as he begs in an unfamiliar language, but the meaning of his words transcends any tongue, human or otherwise.

Ms. Crowbar presses her mouth against your ear. She'd been shorter than you moments ago, but her form is entirely malleable to her own liking. When she speaks, a hot breath of air brushes makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

"Hurthurthurthurthurt," she says, speaking so fast that one sound rolls into the other and you can't tell where one word begin and the other hands. Through her mouth, she sucks in a slow breath. "You kill. Other not dead. Sentience again return. You understand?"

You do. You've never once misunderstood the way things work around here. But, in your transformation, your desire for violence hasn't grown all that much. Of course, that is exactly why she pushes you to your breaking point. She's still interested now. If you were a better person, less of a coward, you would've objected, shoved her off and walked away. But as the ruler of this realm, there are many things Ms. Crowbar can do. You have no desire to be at the other end of her weapon.

Lowering your hands, you manage to bring your blade to the human's throat. His eyes stare straight into yours along the arch of your blade and arm. With how fickle your memory is, you hope you soon forget the look he gives you. And yet, you still can't do it. Ms. Crowbar sighs once again, then giggles indulgently.

"I see. Me help you." In the blink of an eye, her grip has wrapped itself around your hand, clutching tight. With a single, sharp motion of her arm the iron has sunk into the soft flesh of the human's throat. His eyes grow wide as he uselessly gurgles on his own blood, mouth gaping and closing like a fish on dry land. You look away, but Ms. Crowbar places the side of your head in the palm of your hand and makes you watch.

Bile rises in the back of your throat and you take a staggering step away. Surprisingly, her grip slides off of your shoulders easily. You slump against the wall, letting out a pathetic little whimper. The world spins around you. For the first time in a while, through the labyrinth of your forgotten memories, the desire to go home claws its way to the surface, overpowering any other feeling. Like that, you feel suspended in space for a couple of seconds, grip on reality slipping, ears ringing, and you're just sososoSO upset!!! its sososo unfair why you why you?

When you come to, your hands are dripping with blood, the lower half of your face dripping with thick, warm liquid. You don't want to think about what it is. Your entire body is shaking. At some point you must've sat down. When you look up, Ms. Crowbar is right there, not looking the least bit disturbed. She smiles down at you.

"Cute," she simply says. "Me like you."

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt. 3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2, 031

> A/N: Catch the corny tie-in at the end of the chapter. I think maybe one more chapter will wrap up this story.

You were in a bout of disbelief. You'd not left your room in days, taking your meals and guests in the rooms. Sylvi was obviously angry with you, because she’d said nothing about you not cooking. She likely had already hired a new cook to replace you, no doubt planning to kick you out the moment you stepped outside again. Where would you go? Back to the Riverlands was always an option, but you were afraid of what you might find if you returned.

How could you not be? Your entire life you had thought of your parents as betrayers. You'd thought they'd wished to sell you off to some disgusting man, to rid themselves of the burden of you. In reality, what choice had they truly had? To reject the king would be dishonorable, not to mention impossible. They would’ve had to respond immediately, to agree in your stead.

How could you ever think so lowly of them? They'd given you so much love in your youth, how would they ever do something so cruel if they'd had the choice not to? Were they heartbroken at the loss of a daughter? Did they think you dead? Or did they accept that you just didn't want to be with them anymore, and you'd left for a better life. Were they still looking for you? You didn't know which was worse.

And then there was Aemond.

Why had he cared so much? You were of no great house, and your marriage would be of no benefit to him. Your running away should've been to his relief, not his anger. Then, for him to track you down, and push his intentions on you. What was the purpose?

The knock on the door did not make you rise from the bed as it would've a week ago, and you did not call to the visitor like you would've a week ago. Instead, you waited for whoever it was to either let themselves in, or go away. You'd be happy with either one.

The creak of the solid door told you they'd chosen the former.

"Are you awake?" Lauryn's voice pulled a sigh from you. 

She'd come with more questions, or to gossip about what was happening outside of your room.

"If I was not before, your presence has brought me a sense of invigoration." You smiled sadly, patting the bed for her to enter.

She stepped inside the room, but did not cross the distance. Her absence in the door frame was filled with another. A much taller, blonder, guest, that put much more dread in you than she had.

"Lauryn, what is this?" You sat up, crossing your arms and pulling the blankets up to cover your nightclothes. He stepped into the center of the room, hands behind his back, looking around to take in the sight.

"He's demanded to see you." We can not deny him, is what she said with her eyes. You nodded at her and she quickly fled the room, closing the door behind her.

The silence was not comfortable, nor was it unwelcome. You knew if he spoke, it would be about the betrothal, and that would make you think of your family, and you would be back to worrying for your dear family and how they were fairing. You felt so vulnerable, wrapped up in your blankets and nightclothes before him, all alone.

"My prince, you wanted to see me?" You propped your knees to your chest, sure you looked like a big pile of sheets with a head on top to him.

"I wanted to see you were well." He finally took his eyes off your meager decorations, and looked at you. "Have you had any more spells?" You shook your head.

"I'm quite well."

"And have you thought any more of my words?" You sighed, exasperated, but relenting to the fact that he simply would not let this go.

"Of course I have. It's all I've thought about, holed up in this room. That, and where I'll go once Sylvi casts me from my home. Because of you." You wanted to yell, but you just did not have the energy.

"Me?"

"If you'd just accepted my answer, she would have gotten past it. But you pursued, and chased, and you would not relent."

"I'd relented the first time you rejected me, how many rejections did you expect I would take?"

"Relenting would've been leaving me be, not seeking me out here when you knew I was content."

"I did not come here for you, you happened to be here." You rolled your eyes.

"I *happened* to be in a kitchen, hidden away from everyone where *you* found me in search of 'wine’? There was wine everywhere up front, it is a whore house! You knew I was here, and you found me, because you could not accept the rejection. You sought me out, you said so yourself." He blanched at you repeating his words to him. Perhaps he thought you did not remember your last conversation.

"So I sought you out. What is the crime in it? You were my betrothed, and I would not have you running about the world any longer. I demand to know why you rejected me so long ago, and why you reject me now. I am more than suitable for you, and you should have been proud to serv-"

"I did not know it was you!" You silenced him with your yell. "I did not run away from marrying you, I ran away...because I thought my parents were to send me off to some gray man I did not know, and force me to wed him, and I would spend my whole life with some old Lord who did not love me, and I would never live! I was a child, and I was afraid, Aemond."

He was silent for a moment, before sighing and coming to sit at the edge of your bed.

"And why do you refuse me now?"

"I guess I thought if I married you, then I might as well have married the first man. It would've saved me a lot of trouble, and made my family proud, at the very least." He nodded at that and looked away. "Why do you want me so badly?"

He tilted his head, thinking for a second before shrugging his shoulders. You scoffed at that and stretched your legs to leave room for your crossed arms, not believing that he was just pointlessly pursuing you.

"I've had enough rejection for one lifetime. I'll not have any more." It was a simple answer, and given the past you knew of him, you supposed it made sense. He'd been refused a dragon, friends, a father, a crown. You could see how when you, a simple girl from nowhere, rejected him, it might have confounded him, and tipped him over the edge. He seemed deep in thought, or perhaps deep in memory, and before your eyes you saw him regress into the young boy he'd been, when all he knew was hurt and rejection.

In a way, you pitied Aemond. He had led a sad life, but he'd also led a privileged life. and that privileged life often made people overlook the hurt he'd faced as a child. He was a prince, and that made him revered and respected in many aspects, but he was also a scared, hurt little boy, with no respect from his peers and no one to truly turn to.

"I suppose I can understand that." He turned to you, his lips turning up in acknowledgement before he gently laid his head in your lap.

It surprised you, though it shouldn't have. He was desperate for appreciation and affection. That was why he was here, after all, begging you to reconsider marriage to him.

You had reconsidered it over these past few days. You'd thought it over in a hundred different ways, and truthfully, without the added angst of your parental situation, you really had no reason to say no to his proposal. He was a perfectly respectable husband, and with his doting nature, you'd thought he'd treat you quite well. You could see yourself content with him, if not happy.

"I suppose marriage wouldn't be so bad if my husband were agreeable." You gently found yourself petting his hair, making him close his eye.

"Hm." Was his simple answer, a hum of content, yet it prompted you to elaborate.

"He would have to be kind, of course. And perhaps handsome, though not superficial. I would like him to be strong, and brave. Though, not to the point of recklessness. Perhaps a Stark." You looked down at him with a playful smile, and he responded with a chortle. "You're right, I do hate the cold." You scratched at his scalp.

"You'll make an exceptional wife, and I'll make you happy." He turned onto his back so he was looking up at you, his soft eyes gazing up at you.

He truly was beautiful. His features were in total opposition, his long, soft hair, sharp jaw, and sweet eyes all combined to make a statuesque deity laid before you. His hair was almost pearlescent in the way the fire flickered across him, changing the hues in a second, and blending in oranges and reds and magnificent  yellows.

You could not think of a way to tell him you were conceding, and he'd finally won. You just smiled down at him and nodded.

"I need to see my parents." Your voice broke at the mere idea, and he nodded immediately, sitting up and turning to hold your face.

"I'll see it's done. We'll call them to King's Landing."

"Thank you, Aemond.”

He tilted himself just slightly, enough for you to understand what he was asking for. You leaned in enough to meet your lips to his in a soft and gentle kiss. You rest your hand on his jaw, and the other on his chest. He pushed himself against you more to deepen the kiss, pushing you back onto your hands.

His kiss was desperate, and held an air of pure satisfaction. It was not overly rushed, but deep and passionate. You could feel him pour his soul into it, like a beautiful piece of poetry. Every suckle was a sonnet, every sigh a sestina. He pulled your body to his, and it was a haiku, consisting of syllables only spoken in physical language. And you hung onto every single word.

You pulled away for air, but he didn't let you get far, holding his hand to the back of your head, your forehead pressed against his. Your bodies still moved in sync, rising and falling with breath, slowly calming yourselves back down.

"We'll marry as soon as your parents arrive. The very same day."

"Shouldn't you ask the king? I’m sure your family won’t relish  the thought of a prince marrying a common cook. You could marry at a much higher advantage for the war."

"There is nothing common about you. And besides, my father already approved the marriage all those years ago. My brother won't deny me." You nodded.

"I'll see you again? Before the wedding? Promise you'll come see me." He raised his eyebrow at that, clearly confused about something you'd said.

"You're coming to the castle with me, are you not, my Lady?" The title made you chew your lip, you had not heard it in a very long time. “I’ll not have my wife sleep in a brothel any longer, I’ve suffered it long enough.”

“This brothel is my home, and you’ve had no trouble turning in a night or two if I remember correctly. Besides, I wouldn’t want to offend your family by assuming I was welcome. You should confirm the betrothal first with the king.” He sighed and turned away, but came up with no argument.

“I’ll be back for you, in a week’s time-at most. Say your goodbyes, pack your things. Prepare to be a princess of the seven kingdoms.” He stood and leaned for one last kiss.

“I’ll be waiting, my prince.”

And with one more lasting stroke of your cheek, he left to unbreak the betrothal you’d abandoned so long ago.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @starrflowerr @aemondwhoresworld

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Our Little Dance" - BurningCheese Short #7

THE SEQUEL TO "Mine Forever More" IS HERE! After I went through the story in episode 6 a couple more times to help visualize things and NOT just to watch Burning Spice openly obsess over Golden Cheese over and over again I swear, I was finally struck with inspiration. Thought about some concepts during work, fleshed them out more when I came home, finally reached a coherent game plan, and here we are. I really hope you all enjoy it!

WARNING PART 2: Again, this is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. This is Yandere Spice, not Flirty Asshole Spice. This Spice doesn't deserve Golden Cheese, he deserves a restraining order, or a spot on a registry, or to outright face the fucking wall. He is worse in this part than the last. Go read something else if you're not comfortable with that (and/or if you're a minor).

He knew she wouldn't disappoint him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Burning Spice never cared for dancing. Those few times he allowed himself to be dragged over to that happy, energetic crowd, in those long-gone days of his heroic youth, he always found himself regretting it. Slow, hunched steps so as not to accidentally stomp on the child's feet, as he was so much bigger and stronger than they were. Awkward mimicry of the group circling him, cheering each other on as they carried out traditional performances (he didn't join them on that, of course, the dance itself was tedious enough). Averted - rolled, if he was annoyed enough - eyes and polite disinterest for the red-faced girl who tripped over herself just asking for his hand (she seemed too starstruck to notice he danced with her out of obligation and nothing else).

He remembers people trying to change his mind on the matter. Dancing was not so different from fighting, they said. They had the same flow, the same energy, if one did them right.

What a bold-faced, silly little lie. Dancing only got worse each time he engaged in it. It was annoying. It was all fake. It was boring. Like everything else turned out to be.

He hated those people. He hated festivals. He hated the pitiful civilizations that conjured them. He hated peace and merriment. He hated history. He hated change. He hated life. He hated dancing.

...Or he did, once. He used to. He sees the error of his ways now.

It turns out that what he'd needed all along was the right dance partner.

And she was exactly that, and so much more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their first dance was too short. Their shared passion burned bright, but fizzled out quickly. She'd missed an important step. Stumbled. Fallen.

It was alright. He was angry in the moment, and he told her so. He punished her for her mistake, for her weakness - just as she deserved. They had both waited far too long for this for her to go on and screw it up.

But it was alright. Really. She was still here; she was still breathing; he could still her heart beating in her chest. So long as these were true, then it would be alright. She would collect herself. She would rise, strong and proud, shaking off all of the dirt and blood. She would return to him. To his embrace. They would dance again, better than before. He would give himself to her in his entirety, as he'd planned to. And she would do the same.

His usual lack of patience got the better of him, if only for a moment, as he tucked her into her prison cell. But how could he be blamed? She was simply too beautiful. She looked too perfect there, nestled into his arms, her head still resting against his chest. He'd told her that the kiss was payment for him allowing her lackey to live - and that was true, it really was. He'd wanted that man dead the very second he came into Burning Spice's line of sight. He was too close to her, in either sense of the word, and Burning Spice simply would not have it. It simply wouldn't do. This error shall be corrected soon enough - with extreme, ever-mounting prejudice, the longer the man spent anywhere near Burning Spice's beloved.

But really, more than that, he just wanted to taste her. He simply couldn't bear not doing so anymore. The faint shimmer of her golden hair in the pale light shining down from the ceiling, those rogue strands still framing her face so prettily despite being otherwise ruined, the feeling of her skin against his, that sweet mouth set in such a dazzling frown, that glint of furious determination in her eyes - it was all too much. It was her own fault, really. She made it too hard to say no.

Fuck, she tasted good. So, so good. Sweet, but tangy, and oh so rich. All mixed together into one flavor that he could only describe as her. As Golden Cheese. And fuck, he was already hooked. Addicted to the feeling of her soft lips on his own. Addicted to the feeling of his tongue caressing hers. Addicted to the feeling of her breath mixing with his. He needed more. He'd die without it. He'd die without her.

She would give him more, he knew. She had to. They had so much lost time to make up for already. A bit of time recovering in peace and quiet (ugh), and she'll be alright again. She'll come back to him. And he'll give her many, many more long-awaited kisses.

Their dance wasn't over yet.

She won't disappoint him. She can't.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yes... Yes, this was what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted. She knew him far too well. Better than anyone ever had.

She escaped. With her lackey, unfortunately - but oh well, they can deal with that later. What mattered now was her taking this next step. Taking the lead in their special dance. So bold, so forward. He loved it. He loved her.

She led him through the halls of his temple; had him weave between the columns, hurry past faded murals depicting his former greatness. He chased her every which way, drank in her lingering scent with relish. Perhaps he should have let her take the lead sooner; this was SO much fun. He was having far too much fun following in her steps. Only she would have the cleverness and creativity to also make their dance a game. To add in all of those aspects of a thrilling hunt that he so adored into their little performance. Yes, he loved this. He adored it.

Honestly, where has she been all his life?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When their dance hit that fever pitch once again, he half expected his heart to burst from his chest out of sheer euphoria. Dragging one another through the temple a second time, all of those worthless walls and pillars and decorations getting caught in their beautiful maelstrom. Such delightful devastation, brought about by her. By his love for her. By them and their union. By this perfect little dance of theirs.

In his manic glee, he let his mask fall, if only slightly. Now wasn't the right time, he would pour his dark, aching heart out to her only when he knew that right time had come - but oh God, she knew exactly what to say to him and how, and how to bring out both the best and worst in him all at once. He would taunt her, mock her, and she would meet his sneering with her own sarcastic indignation. This bickering, this bantering - so, so much fun. SHE was so much fun.

She teased him, too, much to his heightened joy. "The world? I do not care for the world! Nor do I wish to protect it! Or to be called a hero!" A bold yet terrible liar, she was, after she ruined their first dance for the sake of that child. She was truly beautiful, inside and out; at her core shone the bright and pure soul of a hero. And yet, she denied it. It was funny. It was cute. She was so cute.

"I am the Radiant Deity of the Golden City! I fight only to protect my treasures. And I will NOT let the likes of you harm what is mine!" Oh, she truly was so adorable. Prized possessions were just what he loved to destroy most. And he HATED how much these things meant to her: her land, her palace, her gold and jewels, her subjects. He hated them so much, that he let his mask slip: he confessed that, when their dance was over, he planned to go and destroy it all. Everything she ever held dear, wiped off the face of the earth. She didn't need any of it, anyway. He realized long ago that nothing truly matters - nothing except for them, of course - and she would come to realize it, too. He would make sure of it.

Nothing mattered to him except for her. Nothing shall matter to her except for him. They shall keep on dancing forever, even as the world crumbled to dust around them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He began losing his patience near the end. Still more her fault than his. She got to him too much. Too badly.

Some of the weight behind his axe vanished, for he began to favor his own hands instead of it. The axe carved her open, drew her blood, had her dancing so erratically, so desperate to evade its brutal swing - and he enjoyed that. But he enjoyed touching her even more. When he got close enough - and he did everything in his power to get close enough, even for just a second - he would catch her off guard by striking her with his fists instead. He just... he NEEDED to touch her. The itch only got more unbearable as they danced on. Just one split second of his hands on her body, that's all. Even in the form of bloodied knuckles leaving deep bruises on her stomach, or knocking the wind out of her lungs. That's all he wanted. Was that so wrong?

If she noticed this, she made no sign of it. With the way she acted, it was fair to assume she no longer noticed much of anything. She was weakening again; though their dance continued on, though that fire still consumed them, it seemed now that she was being overwhelmed. She was starting to stumble again. She missed a step or two. Had him pick up the slack. It was unfortunate, but still fun, still amusing - he was too far gone to really be upset that this was happening again, to be honest. The spices in the air, the smell of her blood, the sound of her cries and labored breathing... too much. All too much. He was losing his damn mind, and it was exquisite.

But... oh, Golden Cheese, his little bird, with her tenacity and her endless surprises. Even as he took charge of their dance again, she found another way to get to him. To crawl beneath his skin and eat him alive from the inside out.

Her tongue - that sweet, soft, delicious, clever, beautiful tongue - became a poisonous barb, as sharp and painful as the tip of the golden spear that tried (and often succeeded, to her credit) to impale him everywhere she could reach. She attacked not only his body now, but his character, his spirit. She called him a failure. Declared that he had never been a hero nor a god, and never deserved to have been called either. She accused him of self-serving cowardice, of wanting desperately to hide his own shortcomings underneath all of that rubble and all of those mutilated corpses. All with that smug, little upturn of the corners of her lips, and a tiny but bright glint in her eye.

Yes... she knew him too well. She knew how to reach into his heart and twist it. She blinded him with love, then rage, then love again. Invigorating fury. Delectable pain.

And he would inflict this same pain on her tenfold, as punishment for her insults, and encouragement for her to say them to him all over again. For Burning Spice loved and worshipped Golden Cheese, poisonous barbs and all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She fell again. Their little dance came to an end. There she was now, on her knees, her head bowed, soaked in blood. THEIR blood, mixed together. For a brief moment, she had turned him into an artist; in turn, he used her as his canvas.

Just what would it take for her to stop being so damn beautiful, he wondered?

"You said I failed? Hahaha..."

Come, now. He couldn't help himself. Their dance had been so much fun; now he was just riding out the rest of his high. And he wanted her with him, doing the same.

"My... greed... never..."

Still fighting, even now. Even with so many shattered, aching bones. Even with her spear all but snapped in half, rendered practically useless. Her voice sounded tired, broken like the rest of her. But she still feigned strength and poise the best she could. A proud warrior to the very end. Lovely. He would never have accepted anything less.

His mouth contorted into a smile of bitter amusement. "Warlords, heroes, villains and kings... I've seen all of them in my time." She had seen fit to give him a scathing lecture before. Why can't he do the same to her here and now? "They all tried to avert their doom, and like one another, they all perished."

No response. Rude... but understandable. It was fine, regardless. Her silence was answer enough.

"You, on the other hand..." He knelt before her, leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. Her skin felt hot and sticky, those tufts of fluffy hair brushing against him damp with blood and sweat. "Forgotten by history itself, and yet you still persist."

He cupped her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Gone was that bitterness, no longer was he amused. Now his smile was a manic grin that all but split his face wide open, outshined only by the fire in his eyes. His mask had fallen off completely.

"I fucking love it," he told her.

And then he kissed her again, because he had to. Because he couldn't handle not doing so anymore. Their kiss - his kiss - was starved, desperate, sharp teeth and a hot tongue licking and biting at her lips, that same tongue forcing its way into her mouth and eagerly dominating her own. He finally let his hands roam, more than he'd been able to before, and he lost himself in her touch, in the soft, flawless skin of her arms and legs and stomach - every place she, through her chosen attire, had so graciously left exposed to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, pressing it into her back - right where her wings used to be. She winced; he hugged her tighter. She grunted in pain, he moaned in delirious pleasure, all but drowning her out. He couldn't take it. Just- just couldn't take it anymore. She was just so perfect. So delicious. She danced so beautifully. She drove him mad. He loved it. He fucking loved it.

Their dance was over, but it was fine. It was alright. It had been fantastic, better than he'd hoped. Another devastating loss to her name, worse than the last - but that was how their dance was supposed to go, anyway. It was alright. She's fine, she'll be fine. He won't allow her not to be, because she needed to get back up and dance with him again, and again, and again, and again and again and again and again and again-

"Master!"

His eyes shot open, and he froze mid-lick, still feeling the erratic pulsing of her jugular vein against his tongue (he had briefly abandoned her lips in favor of her neck, showering it with searing, ravenous affection). Slowly, regretfully, he pulled away, releasing Golden Cheese from his grasp and rising to his feet. Back came that old bitterness - pure and true this time, pulling his lips back into a furious snarl and replacing the burning desire in his eyes with boiling hatred.

Nutmeg Tiger bounded into the room and knelt (collapsed, really) at his feet, exhaustion written all over her features but offering him a dutiful smile nevertheless. "Heh... I'm glad to see you... pleased... Great One."

Pleased? She thought he was pleased? He had been relishing his ultimate victory, in this little dance he had with his little bird, finally holding her in his arms again and touching and tasting her... and this- this miserable wretch barges in and interrupts them, and she thought he was PLEASED?

"You! Where have you been?" he spat at her. "You seem even more pathetic than usual."

So pathetic was she, apparently, that she failed to notice his clear outrage at her presence and actually responded. "I merely... took care of that... lackey of hers."

Another fatal mistake. HE had wanted to be the one to "take care of that lackey of hers". He'd wanted to strangle him with his own entrails and gloat that Golden Cheese was HIS AND HIS ALONE as he watched the light in that worm's eyes dim. But no. Nutmeg Tiger robs him of joy and satisfaction yet again.

She kept talking. This weak, mindless, PATHETIC creature kept talking at him. Something or another about the lackey revealing information about Golden Cheese's subjects, and how she'd convinced some Spices to desert. For Golden Cheese's sake - and perhaps to sprinkle a bit of salt into her wounds - he feigned surprise and interest, and laughed in her face when Nutmeg Tiger was finished. He knew all of this already. He knew his little bird inside and out, thanks to the Soul Jams. But playing pretend for a little while wouldn't hurt, would it?

"How does it feel?" he asked her, after he'd indulged in his fair share of cruel mockery. "How does it feel to lose everything?"

Nothing but the sight and sound of her clutching at the ground, trembling fingers raking through the dirt.

"But I must give credit where it's due," he laughed. Perhaps a bit of honest encouragement would rouse her. "After all, it's thanks to you that I realized I had to get my Soul Jam back."

She'd done far more for him - to him - than just that, of course. More than mere words could express. But that was what their dance had been for, wasn't it? That's what all of their dances will be for.

He reached down and grabbed her chin again. "Look me in the eye, Golden Cheese," he said. "I wish to see your face when I kill you."

He won't kill her. He can't. Her death would only result in his own, out of grief and boredom. He will pretend to kill her, then steal her away when neither this brainwashed fool nor anyone else was watching. He'll take her to his palace, to his bedroom. He'll clean her up, help her recover faster so they could dance again sooner. And while he waited, he would open up to her. Pour the whole rest of his heart out to her. Make her whine and beg to have his hands and mouth explore those parts of her that she still hid from him.

"I shall crush your greed, your treasures, your dough." He squeezed her face hard, digging his nails into her cheeks. "And, in the end, I shall take back my Soul Jam."

He knelt down before her one more time, low enough so his face was level with hers. "Don't worry. I always keep my promises..."

He thought he felt her head shift in his grasp... He thought he felt her eyes flicker towards him, if only for a moment, before falling to the ground once more. He promised to bring them back and never let them leave him again.

"All you ever held dear will be swallowed by the Tide of Change."

Everything. Her friends. Her subjects. Whatever still remained of her kingdom. The world itself. All of it. There shall be nothing left except for him, and all of those lonely, adoring, battle-crazed promises he's been silently making to her all the way until that very moment.

Above all else, he promised to keep dancing with her forever.

All he could do - all he's done, all this time - was hope she heard him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She... Golden Cheese, she...

...Oh. Oh, Golden Cheese. His gorgeous, powerful, radiant Golden Cheese...

She surprised him again. As she teetered at the edge of this great precipice, she regained her strength and clarity and saved herself. She broke free from his grasp. She rose to her feet and stood tall. Her voice rose with each word she spoke; words born from pain and sorrow, but overcome with righteous determination. And the Soul Jam - her Soul Jam - recognized this show of unwavering courage and returned to her without hesitation.

And she... then she...

She... changed. She changed form. Gone were those numerous deep wounds that carved and bled into each other. Gone was the blood, the sweat, the tears. A warm, shimmering light enveloped her, stripped her of all of her woes - and her old, tattered clothes - fuck, he'd been staring closely enough to realize that the light had temporarily stripped her bare and damn it, why wouldn't it let him see?! - and released her back into the world, born entirely anew. Dressed in the finest gold, the brightest blue, the- the red? There was red on her now? She donned his color? Just for his sake?

Oh, Golden Cheese, his beloved Golden Cheese... His delectable prey, his precious golden thief, his pretty little bird-

No. Not just a bird now. A phoenix. His stunning, courageous, radiant phoenix.

Yes, his beloved phoenix took him by surprise again and hurried him back to the dance floor... and he watched, not daring to blink even once, as she rose into the sky, eclipsing the sun itself with her mighty wings.

"Burning Spice," she called to him, "It seems the Tide of Change has turned in my favor."

Ohhhhhhhhh fuck, this perfect woman. Always knowing what to say to him and how. Never without her confidence, her pride, her shine. Her radiance.

"Hear my words. You chose to let go of everything you ever had. You do not deserve even the smallest smidgen of my treasures."

Oh, he was hearing her words, alright. He was etching them into the walls of his skull, pouring them onto his brain, forcing them to sink in as deep as possible. Letting the sound of her angelic voice nest in his ears and infect his mind, forcing all of his remaining thoughts out and taking their place like a greedy parasite.

But she was lying and teasing him again, pretty thing. He hasn't let go of everything. He was still clinging to his darling phoenix, desperate to keep her close. She was the only treasure of hers that he ever wanted. And the only thing that will make him let go is death itself.

Yet more glittering golden lights appeared all around her, alongside thickening clouds of earth and spice. From this divine storm came a cluster of spears, each one sharper and deadlier than the last.

The grin on his face ached terribly now, with how great and long-lasting it was.

"How can someone who has forsaken everything prevail over someone who has lost everything?"

Ah, but that wasn't true, either. She has him! She still has him and his love, their love. She still had their little dance; all of those little steps and bends and twirls, their boundless passion and energy, the electrifying touch of their skin and mingling of their breaths. And as he told her once before, he would gladly forsake everything for her. His temple, his possessions, his fellow Spices, EVERYTHING FOR HER AND ONLY HER!

"Remember this moment and taste the bitterness of regret..."

Regret? What regret? He wasn't capable of that anymore and he never would be again - not as long as she was there, taking the Sun's place as the source of light and warmth in his world.

"For you are about to face defeat from everything you have ever discarded!!!"

She dove straight towards him, volley after volley of spears raining down alongside her. His very own meteor shower, with the most captivating shooting star right at the center.

He leapt towards her, the strength of his leap leaving behind a crater where he once stood, wild, demonic cackling spilling from his mouth with abandon. Eyes locked onto one another's: brilliant, wrathful, glittering gold and smoldering, ecstatic, lovestruck red. Spear aimed right at his heart. Axe ready to swipe at her waist and cleave her in two.

She was offering him her hand, asking for his own in turn. She wanted to dance with him again. She missed being in his arms, and the two of them gliding across the floor together in perfect synchronicity. Their unrivaled harmony, the envy of all who witnessed it.

He shall take her hand. How could he not? He loved dancing with her far too much to do otherwise. He loves dancing now, and it's all her fault. She made it too hard to say no.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She did not disappoint him, and neither did the crushing weight of his entire temple bearing down on his back. How touching of her to leave him with such a gift, honestly.

Their last dance ended with a bang. With her staying true to her word and striking him down with all that he had discarded. And now there he lay, in the ruins of that place he and many others once cherished as a home and sanctuary.

He could hear a voice, somewhere at the edge of all the rubble. Nutmeg Tiger. If only he'd had the good sense to slaughter her like a pig like he ought to have ages ago. Now, as he shrugs the debris off of himself and regains his footing, he consoles himself with the idea that in the future, he can execute her right in front of his darling phoenix as a way to return her loving gesture. Yes, that sounds like a plan...

His muscles and bones screamed at him with every little movement he made, but he did not listen. Instead he shambled forward, out of reach of the temple ruins, that mewling, pathetic creature that called herself Nutmeg Tiger still buzzing around him like the insignificant little fly she was.

Clutching at the stab wound in his side (the one that was bleeding the most heavily, anyway), Burning Spice threw his eyes to the early morning sky. Their dance had lasted all the way until dawn... Beautiful.

A smile crept across his face, that eventually grew into a grin, that eventually fell open as deep, joyous laughter erupted from the pit of his stomach and out of his bloody mouth. Nutmeg Tiger started laughing too, but he didn't care about that. This moment was meant for him to savor all alone.

His dance with Golden Cheese had been everything he'd dreamed of and more... And he knew that their next dance would be just like it, for she never, ever disappointed him and never, ever will.

And there shall be many more dances. They shall take each other's hand and sway to their unique rhythm over and over again, until pain and exhaustion consumed them both, only to rise and take each other by the hand and dance another day.

Perhaps those fools from eons ago were right: dancing really is like fighting, if done right. And he and Golden Cheese did it exactly right.

Dancing was Burning Spice's favorite thing now, just as Golden Cheese was his favorite person.

He wanted to dance with her forever. Forever and ever and ever...

------------------------------

this was hard to write lol. I really, truly wasn't expecting people to want a sequel to MFM, so I had no plan ready (which is not like me as a writer at all, I am very much an "architect"/obsessive planner with my stories). I waited for episode 6 to drop for inspiration, and when I got it, I hit another roadblock in the form of me having TOO many ideas I wanted to work with. I thought of focusing on their moment right before GC awakens, but then I wanted to also do something with his confession to her (where he admits that he will gladly destroy his entire life to get to her), but then I also wanted to acknowledge his enjoyment of their game of hide-and-seek in the temple, but then but then but then lol. I eventually zeroed in on that scene where he called what they were doing a "dance", and realized that that was what captured my attention the most. The idea that he views their fight as a dance. So that's how I chose to frame his POV and the story as a whole. Like he thinks they're "dancing" together through the whole thing.

idk if I'm happy with the end result overall. I really wanted to do you all justice since you wanted a part 2 so bad. I can always go back and retool things/try to do a "version 2" with those other, smaller concepts as well. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this. Thank you for caring enough to want to see more from me, sorry for the wait haha

And remember, Burning Spice canonically called her his "little bird" and "lovely" and that he was enjoying "their little dance", and he canonically admitted that he would destroy everything and everyone for her, and no one can ever take that away from us now :)

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Straight Shooter - Tighnari x f!reader

Summary: First impressions aren't easy to overcome, but for someone like Tighnari, they're a piece of cake.

Additional info: cute and wholesome fluff, meet cute, enemies to lovers (for, like, two seconds lol), 1.1k words

(Thanks to @paimonial-rage and @andromeda-nova-writing for beta reading!)

*****

Sand got between your toes and rubbed against the soles of your feet as you hurried down the dirt road. Gandharva Ville was in sight – thirty minutes later than planned.

Collei waved at you in the distance with both arms stretched out wide. As you came near, someone else was beside her waiting at the entrance of a house. His ears were his most prominent feature, but his arms were crossed as he tapped his foot. He was irritated.

You stopped in front of Collei, out of breath and panting for air.

“You're finally here!” said Collei. “I was worried something horrible happened to you.”

“I'm so sorry. I–” You cut your own words short because you didn't have an acceptable explanation. You simply slept in and that was a weak excuse for the first day on the job.

The guy scoffs at you. “Seems like you're following in your father's footsteps, huh?”

At first, you blinked a couple of times, stunned at his words. A growing portion of both anger and embarrassment burned inside you. You gripped your bag, hands already sweating from the run to Gandharva Ville. This was an awful start to your day and this guy made it worse.

“I'll be around the back if you need anything,” he said to Collei. With that, he left the two of you alone.

“Collei, who was that?” you asked. You were somehow able to conceal the irritation in your voice.

“That was Master Tighnari. He can be a little harsh at times,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “but he's a really great guy.”

Her words didn't exactly quell the sensation in your gut. This Tighnari guy criticized both you and your dad in a single shot when he didn't even know you.

You put those thoughts aside to refocus on the job ahead. Once inside the house, you took out a textbook and a few sheets of paper and placed them on Collei’s desk. You instructed Collei to work through exercises to evaluate her current language skills. With excitement, she picked up her pencil and went straight to work. Fortunately, you could tell right away she'd be a good student. 

Despite your earlier encounter with Tighnari, you were glad your father had told you about this job. Your previous one was getting tiring and you could schedule tutoring around other tasks and errands more easily. If only you could forget what your dad added.

"Who knows? Maybe you can even find a guy you like at this job," he told you.

"And how old exactly are your coworkers?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

You scoffed at the thought. You knew your dad was just teasing but you were content with being single. However, if a good guy came along, you wouldn't complain.

“I think I'm done now,” said Collei as she handed you the sheet with a bashful smile.

“You don't need to be so nervous around me, Collei,” you said. “I'm not that much older than you.”

Her smile grew larger. “I'm just really glad I was able to find someone like you. Master Tighnari has been teaching me this whole time and it was taking a toll on him.”

“Really?” you said, raising a brow.

“Mmhmm. He has a lot of work as the lead forest watcher so I wanted to help him out by hiring a dedicated tutor,” she explained.

So this guy would go out of his way to help someone like Collei. Maybe he wasn't as bad as you initially thought, but you still had some reservations.

After completing the lesson for the day, you packed up your belongings and Collei thanked you for your work. She was even eager for your return tomorrow, bright-eyed and ready to learn.

You stretched and yawned as you exited the house, and at the edge of the trail, you saw Tighnari standing there as if he were waiting for the two of you to finish. 

You clutched your bag close to your chest as you walked towards the trail. You put some distance between yourself and Tighnari as you walked past him. Just as you thought you were about to successfully avoid him, he called out to you.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” he asked.

You took a breath. “What is it?” you said, turning to him. 

“There's something I want to clear up, if that's alright with you.” 

You loosen the grip on your bag slightly.

“It seems that my comment earlier has caused some… undesirable effects. It wasn't my intention to be rude to you like that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, raising a brow.

“You see, I'm quite sarcastic around your father. As my senior, he often pokes fun at me and I, in return, have my own way of responding to him. It's simply how we behave as coworkers.”

So that was what it was. You had thrown your own retorts to your father’s silly quips as well.

“I mistakenly assumed the two of you would have a similar temperament,” he continued, “which is why I behaved in that manner. When I realized there was a chance you might be more like Collei, I decided it would be best to clear this up with you. I didn't want to leave you with a bad impression of me. And so, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You relaxed your shoulders, and for the first time today, took a good look at him. An ear was slightly bent, showing that he was a bit ashamed of his assumptions of you, yet his eyes looked directly at you, sympathetic yet focused.

This was Tighnari. A straight shooter.

“Thank you,” you told him. “For clearing that up, I mean. Not just anyone would take the time to do that.”

“It's not a problem. It's the sensible solution. I'd do it for anyone,” he told you. He lifted his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “Anyway, are you heading home now? I hope it's not too far of a journey for you.”

“I'm actually headed to the city to meet up with some friends.”

“I see,” he said with a hand on his chin. “In that case, I'll leave you to it. I'm heading to Pardis Dhyai in a bit. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

You lifted your hand to give a subtle wave as he walked back to the house. Collei left the building after hearing his call, and she retold her day to him with a skip in her step as the two of them went to look for a fellow forest watcher.

You spun on your heel and made your way to the city. Your feet were clear of dirt and sand. Perhaps your dad was right. The guys here didn't seem so bad after all.

*****

I hope you liked it! I might add a part two some day, but for now, it'll remain as a one-shot. :) (You can also check out my other fics as well.)

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 82: Vivian's Peace

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: broken leg, mind control, lots o' stabbing

October 1925

Vivian's scream echoed through the safe house as Oliver, disoriented and hallucinating, tripped and fell down the stairs before she could catch him. She'd seen many gut-churning injuries in her time as a hunter, but it still didn't prepare her for how Oliver's leg was bent in an unnatural way. Blood trickled down his face, and his eyes were glassy, staring at nothing.

"Oliver!" She rushed to his side. "Oliver, can you hear me?"

"…Yes," he said weakly.

"All right. Don't try to move. I'm going to take you to a doctor."

So much for hunting her vampire quarry this evening -- but there was nothing that could be done about it unless she was okay with leaving Oliver to suffer and maybe even die.

"What happened to Oliver?" Emily had run over. "Oh my god, his leg…"

"It's broken. I'll need help loading him into the car so I can take him to the hospital. It isn't far."

Emily looked pale as she helped Vivian pick Oliver up. He looked pained as they accidentally jostled his leg, but he didn't cry out, seemingly lost in a place far away. His eyelids were drooping, and Vivian knew that he was still under the effect of the sleeping draught she had given him.

She thought she was doing him a favor. He was panicking about the possibility of his vampire master being killed, even though most of the enthrallment should have been cleared from his mind. The vampire had such a strong grip on the unfortunate man, and he was clearly going to be a hindrance in his own salvation. It seemed like a mercy to put him to sleep until the morning, when hopefully the vampire who tormented him had been returned to hell and he could think clearly once again. She had never expected this.

The two women struggled to get a semi-unconscious Oliver into the car. He was pale and shivering now.

This was all her fault. She shouldn't have been a coward, terrified of enthrallment, a fate far worse than death. She should have killed Alexander when she had the chance. She'd been so intensely gripped by panic when she felt his spell starting to breach her defenses -- if this was how she reacted to Alexander, how could she ever hope to destroy his vile sire and avenge her mother?

And now, he would be hunting her. Oliver was bleeding, and that would make him easier to track. What if Alexander picked up the trail, and it led him straight to the safe house? What if he brought the Maestro with him? She wasn't remotely prepared to try and kill both of them at once, especially not with the former thralls' lives on the line.

"Emily, listen to me," she said, pulling a wad of cash from her wallet. "You need to run."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Just trust me. Take this money, go to the train station on the corner of 7th, and get a ticket going anywhere, enough to put some distance between you and vampires. Gather up the rest of the thralls and take them along too."

"What about Bobby?" Emily asked.

"Try to get him out, but if you can't, lock the doors and leave him. Hopefully I'll be able to get back soon and get him myself." It was an awful thing to consider, but she wasn't willing to tell Emily and the other thralls to sacrifice themselves to save someone so far gone he might never return.

"But what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take Oliver to the hospital, and then I'm going to hunt vampires." It was the only thing she could do. Oliver made a low noise of distress, and Vivian knew she couldn't wait any longer. She waved goodbye to to a frantic Emily and drove off.

"I need to go," murmured Oliver, half-asleep. "It's the only way. I need to go."

Perhaps taking Oliver had been a mistake. He was so deeply ensorcelled that her magic couldn't fully dispel it. She would have just tossed him back at the vampire to make her escape if it hadn't been for Emily's request to help him.

Vivian looked over at Oliver, his face screwed up in pain even as the sleeping draught kept him mostly asleep. A hopeless case -- she could see that now. Even if Alexander died, he was the sort that would be selling himself back to a vampire within three months, no doubt. The way he defended that monster sickened her. He'd rather see her condemned to a lifetime of mindless servitude than to have her slaughter the creature that'd kept him captive. Even if it wasn't his fault, even if it was just the spell that had been placed on him, she could hardly stand to hear it.

Then again, Oliver had given her by far the most information she'd had on the Maestro. That made his rescue worth it.

Unfortunately, if the Maestro were actually on her trail, she was not prepared to fight him yet. Her rune's effectiveness had faded before she could finish the job with Alexander, and the Maestro was no doubt stronger than that. She needed better safeguards if she wanted to stand a chance.

The car sputtered to a stop in front of the hospital. Thankfully, Vivian was strong enough to carry Oliver, who was in no shape to walk on his own. He groaned as she took him through the double doors and into the dingy lobby. Vivian was very well acquainted with this hospital, as it was the only one in the city open throughout the night.

The night nurse behind the desk put down her magazine. "What happened to him?"

"He accidentally fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg. He also hit his head and may have other injuries."

She nodded and stood. "We'll get him into a bed right away. There are no doctors on staff right now, but one of the nurses can examine the fracture, set the bone, and give him something to ease the pain. There will be a doctor to see him in the morning."

"That'll do." Vivian followed the nurse into a hall, where patients lay on thin white mattresses. They were mostly asleep or half-awake, but a few stared at them with wide eyes as they passed. The nurse gestured to an open bed, and Vivian lay Oliver down on it, trying to be careful with his battered leg.

"Are you his wife or his sister?" the nurse asked.

"Nothing like that. I hardly know him. He was… in need of a room, and staying at my house temporarily."

"I see. Does he have any family we could contact?"

"No. In fact, if anyone comes by claiming to be his family, you should turn them away." It wouldn't do much good if Alexander came calling, as he'd have this nurse's mind in his grasp in seconds, but she might as well try.

Vivian and the nurse returned to the lobby, and the nurse waved a piece of paper at Vivian. "Could you at least fill out the intake form? We'll need his name and --"

"His name's Oliver. I don't know his last name or anything else about him. And I need to get going." This unexpected emergency had burned a critical part of her night, and she needed to get back on track if she had any hope of finding Alexander before he found her. With Oliver's blood in the air, she was at even more of a disadvantage.

She'd done what she could for Oliver. With the way his leg looked, he might never walk properly again, but that was the doctors' problem. The best thing she could do for him now would be to dispose of his vampiric master.

Vivian got back in the car and slumped in the driver's seat. She took out her knife and carved the familiar rune, something she might need to do several times tonight in case she were ambushed. Where was Alexander most likely to be? If he caught the scent of Oliver's blood -- and depending on how keen his senses were, he might be able to do so from miles away -- then he'd be either here at the hospital or at the safe house. Hopefully the thralls had evacuated for the train station by now.

With any luck, she'd be able to catch her quarry prowling near the safe house. As she drove, she considered her strategy. She knew now that she couldn't rely on the rune for long, not when Alexander began to sing, so she would have to make it quick. She had an incapacitation spell, but it probably wouldn't be enough to stop his voice, and --

Vivian screamed as a pedestrian appeared in the road in front of her, swerving the car and driving it halfway onto the sidewalk. She'd been so absorbed in thought that she hadn't even seen the woman in time. Heart pounding, she opened the door and went to the poor soul she'd nearly hit. It was a young woman in a floral sundress, with an innocent and sweet face, a visage that would have fooled anyone but a seasoned hunter. As it was, Vivian realized her mistake before she'd taken even a few steps.

"Don't move," said the woman, her voice carrying an air of authority. Vivian's rune burned as it absorbed the command, and she could tell immediately that this vampire was extraordinarily powerful. With Alexander lurking out there, this was the worst time possible for her to run into another vampire.

And it would be much, much worse if it wasn't a coincidence at all, if the two vampires were working together.

Vivian pulled her silver knife with one hand and a strength draught with another. The possibility that she was working with Alexander meant that her usual trick, pretending to be enthralled to get the vampire to let their guard down, wouldn't work, and that meant she had to rely on physical prowess to quickly end it. The vampire was at least a foot shorter than Vivian, a bit plump with no muscle, and if she were a human, she'd be no match for Vivian. With vampires, though, their appearance was a poor indicator of their abilities.

"Oh, dear, is that any way to treat me after you nearly ran me over?" said the vampire, honey sweet. "Why don't you just lay down that weapon and relax, and we can have a nice chat."

Vivian didn't bother to respond, as there was no point. Anything this vampire said was intended for the sole purpose of trapping her mind. She downed the strength potion in one gulp, trying not to gag on its rotten meat smell, and charged.

The vampire seemed to be taken off guard by the force of Vivian's blow, staggering backwards and losing her footing. Vivian didn't hesitate, jumping on top of her and pinning one arm, aiming her silver knife straight at her heart.

"Stop!" she cried out, and although her rune absorbed the magic, it was enough to make her hesitate for just one second, enough time for the vampire to toss her off and stand up again. Vivian leapt to her feet and was about to try again when she heard an echoing song from nearby. Alexander. He was here too.

"I don't want to hurt you," said the vampire, weaving her spell. "You'll feel much better if you calm down and stop fighting."

Sleep, said the song in her mind. Give up and rest. You're exhausted. Close your tired eyes and go to sleep.

The rune was searing itself into her arm, its power draining too quickly with the enthralling spells of two vampires prodding at her mind. She had to take one out quickly, and judging from the fight last night, Alexander was the weaker of the two. She feigned as if she were lunging at the other vampire again, and as soon as she braced herself for the impact, she turned and leapt in the direction of the song.

"Oh, no, you don't." The other vampire grabbed her arms from behind, restraining her. "I told you, you need to calm down and stop fighting."

Alexander stepped out of the shadows, his song more insistent. Surrender. Obey. Sleep.

"No, let go of me!" Vivian managed to free the hand with the silver knife, only to have it caught by Alexander. Her potion gave her the strength to shake him off, trying to plunge the knife into his chest, when the other vampire dragged her backwards, causing her to swipe at the air.

"None of that. You don't need to fight," whispered the sweet voice in her ear. "You don't need to think. You just need to surrender."

Go to sleep. Shut your eyes. Surrender. Open your mind and listen.

The brand on her arm was flickering, and now Vivian was truly scared. She was at a severe disadvantage now that she'd failed to take either vampire down quickly, and if her protections faltered, it would be impossible to resist their spell. She kicked backwards at the vampire holding her, managing to sweep out one leg and sending them both toppling onto the road.

"So feisty!" she said, laughing. "Oh, you're going to be a fun one. All you have to do is surrender, and then we can play together."

Alexander wrenched the silver knife from her grasp, cutting himself in the process and tossing the knife half a block away. Even as he clenched at the wound on his hand, his singing didn't falter.

But Vivian's brand did. She could feel her muscles relaxing against her will, her mind clouding.

The other vampire pulled her close, speaking seductively in her ear. "Good girl. Just submit to me. Submit and surrender yourself."

Surrender yourself, Alexander's song echoed. Sleep and obey.

She pushed against the insidious commands with all her might. This was it. She had one last chance. The other vampire had made the fatal mistake of allowing Vivian to be close, believing her to be enthralled. She would only have one shot at this.

As quick as she could, she pulled her second knife from her belt and thrust it towards the vampire's heart.

"Lily!"

Time seemed to slow. Alexander shoved the vampire aside, the silver knife catching him in his upper arm. He cried out, clutching the burning wound, as Vivian reeled.

Lily. The expert in human subjugation, the name on every other thrall's lips when they were asked who had hypnotized them. The vampire who'd captured and enthralled every hunter who'd gone after her. The vampire that scared Vivian more than any others save the Maestro. She was here, ready to silence Vivian's mind forever.

"Oh, no, you don't, you rotten little brat!" said Lily, grabbing Vivian around the chest. Vivian's hand was still free enough to plunge the knife into her side, earning an agonized shriek. Lily collapsed onto the road, the gash steaming where the silver had burned her.

The triumph was short-lived, however, because Alexander grabbed her from behind and sang a pure, clear note in her ear, one which stopped any thoughts in their tracks. Vivian pulled away, but he was singing of sleep, sleep, sleep -- and her defenses were faltering. She swayed uncertainly on her feet, lifting up the knife to defend herself, even as thick drowsiness enveloped her mind and body.

When she swung the knife at Alexander, it was clumsy and slow, not like the blow she'd used against Lily. He caught it easily, disarming her of her second knife and grabbing both of her wrists.

The brand on Vivian's arm went numb, shedding the last of its protection, and with that, Vivian felt herself sinking into a fatal stupor. She'd never felt this way before -- like she was going to lose.

So this really was it. This was her end, captured and forced into servitude. It was just like she'd told Oliver would happen, if she lost.

And this was the vampire Oliver thought she could reason with! He'd brought a specialist in human enslavement as his backup. All vampires were the same deep down, just as she'd thought.

Surrender, he sang. Submit to me and obey.

"Oliver… thought you… were better than this…" she said.

"What?" That startled the vampire out of his perilous song, giving Vivian a moment to try and collect herself.

"Focus, Lex," said Lily from where she was curled on the floor. "She's trying to get a rise out of you."

Alexander resumed his song before Vivian could truly catch her breath. Go to sleep, go to sleep and surrender, let your mind sleep and open to my words.

"That's it, go to sleep," Lily coaxed. "No more fighting. Off to dreamland."

Vivian had never been this exhausted before, so utterly spent that no matter how hard she fought against it, she couldn't stop her head from nodding forward and heavy eyes from closing. Alexander caught her as she pitched forward, holding her gently and stroking her hair. He smelled of soap.

And Vivian's tired mind finally gave up.

It was like a rubber band finally snapping under tension. As soon as she lost the battle against enthrallment, she fell deep and hard into enchanted slumber, immediately dropping down into the hypnosis she'd fought so hard against. Alexander continued to sing to her, his voice dark and sure, and Vivian opened to it, allowing the song to pour into her defenseless mind.

"There, now, you are truly under my control."

"Yes, sir," she said, without a second thought. That was what thralls said, and she was a thrall now.

"Very good. You will tell me the truth."

"I will tell you the truth, sir."

"Lex, be careful. She might be trying to trick you again," said Lily.

"If it's a trick, it's a damn good one."

"Not a trick, sir," she murmured. "I'm under your spell." It felt so right, in the strangest way. She knew what thralls did, what they acted like, and so she knew exactly what she was supposed to do. She'd never felt so at peace, forgetting what had made her so frightened.

"Where is Oliver?" he asked.

"In the hospital, sir."

"The hospital!"

"He broke his leg falling down the stairs, sir."

"Damn," Alexander swore. "Which hospital?"

"Mercy, sir."

"I know where that is," said Lily. "I had to take a thrall there once."

"I have to go to him," said Alexander. "But I can't just leave you, and we'll need to make sure the hunter doesn't wake."

"A broken leg isn't fatal. Oliver will be just fine in the hospital, with human doctors to treat him. You can go to him tomorrow night."

"But my sire --"

"Will do what he pleases regardless of what you do. But I can't get home by myself like this, Lex, especially not with the risk that the hunter might wake up."

"You're right. I hate to leave him there in pain, but -- you're right." Alexander hummed a tune of obedience and docility, sinking Vivian further. "I can't carry you and tend to the hunter all at once, though. You'll need to heal up enough to walk. You need fresh blood."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Lily. "Her blood smells amazing. It's just the thing."

"And drinking from her will help subdue her as well. Here, let me bring her close."

Vivian felt herself being set down on the road. She was dimly aware that the vampires were going to drink from her. She'd never had a vampire's fangs on her neck before, except in her nightmares.

Alexander's song changed. Let her feed, give your blood, be still and quiet.

Vivian couldn't move, could hardly even breathe, as her shirt was pulled aside and her body arranged to make her neck more convenient for Lily to access.

"Good girl," said the sweet voice in her ear. "This won't hurt at all. This is going to feel wonderful, and then you'll know what your true purpose was all along."

Still and quiet. Feel no pain.

The cold fangs settled onto her vulnerable neck for just a moment before biting down, and Vivian was lost, so utterly lost.

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She'll be fine, probably. Next week: One of Alexander's worst days.

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[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ tell me that you love me ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ annabeth chase x reader ୨୧ Spending christmas with your fellow demigods vs spending christmas with a bunch of mortals you don't really know. The choice is obvious but when your girlfriend invites you to spend christmas with her family, your not one to say no to her. a/n: (1.03k words) merry christmas and happy holidays 🩷

Picking at the seams of your sleeve wasn't the most productive thing you could be doing. Realistically you knew the longer you stood here the later you would be. A part of you wondered if anyone would mind if you didn't show up at all. Annabeth would, she was the one who wanted you there after all.

She'd made progress with her dad during the last war. Now going so far as to spending the seasonal breaks with him and his family. It'd been quite a while since then, a whole other war had been and gone. But this year was different, this holiday was different. She'd once again been invited to come home for the Christmas holiday, even if it was a bit ironic for her to be celebrating. It was still a good time to get the family all together.

However, when she asked you what your plans for the festive season were. She promptly asked you to join her and her family for christmas. It wasn't the most outrageous thing, people ask their significant ones to family get togethers all the time. It's just you'd never met them before not to mention she'd have to tell them she was in fact dating someone before said day. But she'd promised it wasn't that big of a deal. Just another day you two would get to spend with each other.

But now you stood anxiously fiddling with your hand across the street from her family home. What if they hate you and they take it out on her? Or worse you make a complete fool out of yourself. Your mind spun quick and fast of every possible outcome of error. A small part of you knew you were being ridiculous but the longer you kept thinking the smaller the voice of reason became.

The thought of Annabeth sitting by herself waiting for you helped you return to reality. You'd briefly mentioned your worries of messing up such an important day for her. Reliving the memory of her warm smile and kind grey eyes you felt the floor move underneath you. Walking closer towards the brown wooden door.

The sound of the doorbell rang through the home and its lighthearted joy eased you. The door widened and a grinning annabeth stood, she was wearing an otherwise horrid festive sweater but on her it seemed to brighten her eyes. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail with what looked like tinsel, a few blonde strands falling out around her face.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming" she whispered as you took off your shoes and placed them neatly next to hers.

"I wouldn't leave you alone on christmas, what kind of girlfriend would i be then?" You reached out to grab her hand, the nerves somewhat vanishing behind the light that was her.

She hummed in agreement before pushing you towards the living room where the rest of her family was scattered around. There was an archway leading off to the kitchen where a woman was rushing things in and out of the oven all while talking to an elderly woman who sat at the kitchen bench.

There were two double doors leading out to the backyard, closed for warmth but you could make out two younger boys running around with a shaggy dog.

The living room had a large tv and big couches with enough room for more than the people inside. You could see a man sitting on an otherwise empty couch, you knew from what annabeth had told you that that was her father.

Of the people standing they seemed to be either his or his wife's parents and siblings. One man stood talking to three others, seemingly keeping them thoroughly entertained; he looked much like Annabeth's father so probably his brother.

It was almost overwhelming the aura of the place. A weight of warmth and chatter was foreign to you. Sure camp half blood had holidays but nothing like this. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe somewhere between the warmth of a hug and the fading feeling of a cold touch.

Annabeth squeezed your hand. You must've stood there a little too long. She guided you toward the couch her father was sat at. Two seat empty just for the pair of you.

"Ah, so you must be the one Annie has told me about" The man had a warm tone but you could see the way he analyzed you for any threat. You always thought Annabeth's calculating stare was inherited by her mother but as you sat on her father's couch less than a meter from him you realize it was a copy of his.

"Yes sir, that would be me. It's a pleasure to meet you... sir" You fumbled towards the end, silently kicking yourself for not having practiced being respectful to Mr D before you left.

Waiting anxiously for his reply, all he did was shake his head with a smile.

"No need to call me that, makes me feel a hundred" He chuckled more to himself than to anyone "Besides your here for christmas that makes you family"

You felt your mind melt a bit but you managed to thank him profusely before he got up to 'make sure the twins aren't killing each other'. You turned to Annabeth who was leaning back into the couch with a carefree air around her.

"Did you hear what he just said?" You leaned back to whisper to her. All she did was arch her eyebrow questioningly at you.

"He called me family" You elaborated.

She patted you knee and you followed her lead and rested your legs over her lap and she sat with her head facing you.

"So? You are. I told you I loved you, what else would that make you?" She said it so easily it made your heart stagger.

"I dunno, well informed friend perhaps" She laughed her head hitting the couch softly.

You knew she'd gotten you a present she'd been talking about all month. But hearing her unfiltered laugh knowing that the reason for her smile was something you said was the best present anyone had ever given you.