#and man those three are serving something that i am feasting on

[katabay]

there's a million MK1 related things I want to draw, but to break the ice, a quick painting of smoke :)

[cupiditas-and-ao3]

Kinks-Your-Tober Day 6

Seems right up the monster fucker alley

“You reek of desperation, witch. What is it that makes a witch so desperate that she would apologize to the monster she created, but not desperate enough to offer a cure?” 

“I am not desperate,” Circe barked back at the beast that held her. 

Pride. Always pride. 

This close to Scylla’s face she could see the lashes that collected ocean spray like beaded diamonds, the eyes that looked like tide pools, the lips that had thinned and pulled away to bare her teeth. Circe wondered if Scylla knew there was a star of orange and pink in her eyes, like a starfish on the wall of a pool, next to a splash of anemone purple. Circe had never loved a fisherman. 

The beasts were licking at her feet, tasting the salt and blood and fear off of her, nicking her with their fangs sharpened with magic and time and death. She was painfully aware of how long Scylla’s nails were, thin needle claws that dug into her shoulder and spine where she’d wrapped them around. Of the scaled tentacles that served as legs behind her. Six monstrous heads at her waist, twelve legs of scaled tentacles, and one terrible and beautiful sea nymph at the center of it. 

“Then you have come to be devoured,” Scylla held her above one of the heads that began gnashing, that drolled and lunged for her feet. Circe tucked her feet up, pulled them as far as she could from those jaws of black death. 

Its teeth pulled at her calf and she screamed with the pain. 

“I come to bargain,” she cried. “Please.” 

Pride was always so foolish an endeavor. 

Scylla snapped her long fingers and the beast resumed growling sulkily on the cave floor, reaching for any beast or fish that happened too close to the edges of the cave. She heard the cries of a dolphin as it was snatched and torn. As another head joined in the carnage. As the splatter of innards and blubber and flesh decorated the walls and was washed away by a fierce wave. As the spine was snapped between two heads, now three heads, now swallowed in pieces by all six. 

Circe swallowed down bile. 

“Bargain, witch?” Scylla’s voice was just as cruel as the sounds of the feasting beasts. “You have nothing for me.” 

“I have something,” Circe said cryptically. 

She was buying time. 

Scylla waited. Waited for the explanation, for what the witch who cursed her could possibly have if she did not have a cure. When it did not come she barked impatiently and one of her beasts threw a chunk of raw flesh. The monster caught it with one hand and chewed, blood dripping down her pale seafoam green chin and matting in her kelp-like hair. Circe shuddered and looked away from the display as the grain of the muscle tore under Scylla’s nails. 

“What do you wish to bargain for, witch?” The barking voice was made sloppy with chewing and saliva and blood. 

“A man will sail past you,” Circe began. Scylla snorted. Spat a wad of gristle and blood onto the ground where it was eaten greedily. “He must live.” 

Scylla seemed to contemplate it. Seemed to be deciding. 

“You aim to take another man from me, after all?” 

Her voice was, for a brief moment, not the barking of a new howling pup. It was the lyrical song of a naiads, it was what she had once been. Circe was captivated. 

She had never loved a fisherman. 

“He is not yours to be taken from you,” she began and then that snarling was back. 

“He is my right! He will sail past me and I will devour him and everyone on his ship as is my right! As is my only right after you have made me this,” Circe was thrust so close to Scylla’s face that she could see nothing. Nothing but blurs of color that were the entire world of the ocean. Like opening her eyes underwater and looking up at the sky. 

“He is,” Circe admitted. She hated that she was shaking. Hated that she could hear the beasts lapping the blood from her still bleeding calf off the ground where it dripped. 

“Then you take him from me,” Scylla’s voice was a warning growl. 

“I bargain for his life, and the lives of his crew. His life is promised to another before he sails before you,” Circe chose her words so carefully. 

Scylla thought. Chewed it over like a sauce she’d dipped her bleeding chunk of meat in. She set Circe down in the circle of gore and beasts and ran her long urchin-like spines that served as nails through her hair. 

“So you are respecting the claim someone else lays to a man?” barking laughter rang between her words. “I suppose even a witch can change. What do you expect me to do? Let him sail as if I am not there?” 

A claw pulled Circe’s jaw so she was craning her neck to look in Scylla’s fearsome eyes instead of at the beasts circling her like constrictors. 

“I am not that kind,” Scylla growled. 

“Not to ignore them. To only attack once. Take what you are owed, but take it once. Whoever they escape with lives to see their next trial.” 

“And what do you give me in this bargain?” 

Scylla’s nail pierced Circe’s jaw. Blood trickled and the beasts lapped at it. 

“Myself. For any vengeance you can meet while they sail.” 

That stopped her. It stopped everyone. It stopped the gulls crying in a distance, it stopped the shriek of the wind and the crash of the wives, it stopped the barking and gnashing of the beasts, it stopped Circe’s heart. It stopped Scylla. She didn’t even blink, so frozen by the offer. 

“You think you are enough to trade for an entire ship?” 

Pride. Always pride. 

“I think your rage is enough.” 

A beast at her hip lunged, teeth wrapping around Circe’s midsection and slamming her into the wall. Ignoring that it slammed its own face into the wall. Ignoring that the rocks took a sacrifice of the beast’s blood. 

“What do you know of my rage?” Screamed through the entire sea. 

Even Zeus would have heard it. 

Even Hades. 

Even the Furies. 

“What do you know of ‘enough’?” Those nails ripped into Circe’s hair, pinning her to look at Scylla, pinning her to watch the rage and destruction and sorrow and death on the monstrous face. 

“Show me,” she taunted. 

Pride. Always pride. 

“Witch,” Scylla tore the dress from Circe in one motion, claws caught in the neckline ripping the fabric away easier than the flesh she had earlier torn. 

The teeth sank into Circe’s stomach, into her hips, into her thighs. A gaping maw that drew a waterfall of blood as the others fought over the puddle pooling under her feet. She couldn’t feel her legs. She’d heal. Even a minor goddess would heal. If she wasn’t swallowed whole. 

She was buying herself time. 

Scylla hadn’t agreed to the terms yet. But hadn’t she? 

“I was beautiful,” the almost lovely voice barked. “I was loved . I didn’t want Glaucus’ attention. I didn’t want your attention. But you gave it to me. I was happy ,” her voice broke like waves on the jagged rocks below. 

The scaled tentacles were twining around Circe’s arms now, spreading them apart like she was waiting for a spear to the chest or the embrace of a lover. And wasn’t she? 

“You couldn’t just fucking leave me alone,” Scylla hissed. “I just wanted to be left alone.” 

She couldn’t apologize. Couldn’t breathe. Blood was filling the bottom of her lungs, she felt it as easily as she felt her eyes blinking. And then the mouth was releasing her and more scaled tentacles were moving. They wrapped around her legs and spread them until she was spread eagle against the wall. The scales tore at her, the edges as razor sharp as the teeth, but they didn’t puncture deep into her organs. They didn’t sever nerves and sinew. They threatened.  

And she healed. It was slow, she could feel the nerves and muscle and veins reconnecting themselves. Scylla didn’t mean to kill her. Perhaps torture. 

The shreds of her dress, wine dark and blood stained, fell into the pool of her blood where the beasts snarling tore at it. Her skin replenished, knit back together over wounds still healing. Skin healed so quickly when it wanted to. 

“You think that the gods would allow me to heal if a hero decided I was to be slain?” Scylla hissed. Her face, the face that was once a nymph, was so terribly close. She smelled of the rotting things on the surface of the sea, sickly sweet and salt and brine. Circe wanted to gag. 

Scyla’s kiss did not make the urge dissipate. 

Her kiss was all teeth. Razors and needles in a mouth that had been built for sin before it had been corrupted for things far worse. Circe’s lips bled as her mouth opened. She didn’t know why or what she hoped to accomplish. But then her tongue tasted raw meat and her own blood and her lips screamed with pain. 

Tentacles were tearing the inside of her thighs with their scales, bruising her wrists with their constriction. New ones, there were so many more than the four used to restrain her, pressed heavy razor blade weight along her chest. A slice over a breast as one slid down her chest. A slash over her freshly healed hip. A dig into the curve of her soft stomach, the rolls where the meat and fat over her ribs turned to hills and valleys. 

Circe had dreamed about being in the nymph’s arms. It had haunted her since she’d used that gods’ damned potion. She imagined that ocean wave laughter as she held the nymph in her arms, she imagined the way she would bounce like waves, the way she would caress and brush and kiss and soothe. 

This was anything but that. 

This was rough. This was sharp. This was harsh cracks and barks of words meant to wound and touches meant to torture. It was anything but what Circe had dreamed of. 

And something in the back of her mind nagged that it was just what she deserved. She created this. She should suffer its consequences. 

The kiss broke with a wail of pain and fury and the tip of a tentacle, so sharply ridged and so painful, thrust into Circe’s core. She screamed. Of course she screamed. And she bled. But the blood only served to lubricate the tentacle’s way further inside of her channel, delving and twisting and diving. She screamed and sobbed as the tentacle twisted further into her, curling and stroking and pulling blood and pleasure from her depths. As much as it hurt, being filled felt good . Being punished felt good . Being in Scylla’s embrace felt good .

“You bargained, witch, do not give me anything less than what you offered. I want my vengeance,” the nymph growled, her teeth scraping the edges of Circe’s throat. “I want my rage.” 

So Circe screamed. She screamed and wailed and sobbed as she knew Scylla must have when she’d discovered the trick placed upon her. But she didn’t pull away. She thrust her breasts into the painful ridges of scales and into the punishing squeeze of sinewed tentacles. She clenched around the tentacle inside her, around the second when it joined, and she cried with relief and pain and embarrassment as she came around the intrusion. 

“Did you enjoy that, witch? Did you derive pleasure from the abomination you created?” Scylla scorned. Her tentacles dove again, holding Circe’s bleeding and ravaged pussy open for more exploration, more vengeance. Scylla’s tentacles curled and stroked, slicing at a spot that made Circe see stars. 

She’d never loved a fisherman. 

As Circe felt her body tensing, felt the touch of the world unraveling, Scylla pulled her tentacles from the spot deep within her core. And Circe whimpered. She begged with her motions, with the thrust of her hips, with the bounce of her breasts. She cried and begged and needed. And she looked down and saw a tentacle, different than the others, sliding up the bloodied edge of her thigh. 

This was not scaled. Was shorter than the others, had been hidden under Scylla’s twelve scaled tentacles. It was slimy, coated in a substance that soothed the wounds on Circe’s thigh as it explored. And when it slid inside of her sorely abused pusy she let out a moan that would rattle Olympus. 

It kept going, slicking over the wounds that the scales had torn inside of her, sliding at such a slow and measured pace that Circe almost wondered if it wasn’t deliberate. When she opened her eyes, eyes she hadn’t known she’d shut, Scylla’s head was thrown back. She was panting, her hands stroking over her own breasts and tentacles. The beasts were lying on their sides, panting and writing as if in masturbatory pleasure. And there was the single scale-less tentacle, pressing between her spread thighs from between what could have almost passed for Scylla’s mass of legs. It was thick, far thicker than anything Circe would have tried to take on her own. But after the stretch and abuse of the tentacles, this girth was nothing. Until it hit the wall of her cervix. 

Circe shrieked, eyes watering as the tip of the member hit the wall at the back of her pussy, the thin layer separating her womb from the channel that had already been pushed beyond the limits of the human capacity for pleasure. But the intrusion didn’t halt. Circe willed her eyes open, watched the writhing of Scylla’s tentacles and beasts intensify. Watched the monster’s hands running over herself. Listened to a whimpering moan echo through the cavern. And felt the push of the appendage deeper inside of her. 

“What-” she slurred, pain and exhaustion too much for her brain now. 

“Gonna use you good, witch. You offered me vengeance. You offered me rage. You offered me your body. And I am going,” she cut off abruptly with a trembling moan as the appendage pierced through to the narrower part of the channel, into Circe’s womb. “I am going to use it for. All. It. Is Worth. ” 

The appendage thrust and Circe heard someone screaming before she realized it was her. That her throat was raw and tortured. And then Scylla’s tongue, the slimy and blood tasting tongue, was licking behind her teeth, was choking her and making her gag. And then something moved inside of her. 

A bulge slid through the appendage - through the ovipositor, as Circe realized what it was - and into her hole. The bulge, the egg , was deposited deep into her womb. Where children embryos would have taken root and grown and matured into children had she ever been so inclined. But she hadn’t. And now Scylla was laying eggs inside of her. She moaned, gutteraly, as Scylla released her mouth and leaned back to watch. They watched together as the ovipositor thrust into Circe, as the bulge ran its course through Scylla, into Circe, and then into her stomach. The whining twitching beasts lapped at Circe’s thighs, at her clit, at her hole around the ovipositor, at her ass. 

And it felt good. It felt good to have all of the wet slithering tongues on her. To be prodded into. To be full. So deliciously full. And then when she thought that she was so full nothing that Scylla would stop, when her stomach was distended enough that she could no longer feel the member latched inside of her womb, she let out a final trembling orgasm and fell limp in Scylla’s hold. 

And then another egg slid into her. She screamed. She looked up. She looked into Scylla’s eyes which were once again so close to her. 

“You said I had you while they sailed. They haven’t even reached the cliff yet. You are still mine, witch.”

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Hey! i wanted to know about your thoughts about how Jon would be like post-resurrection with the time skip grrm originally considered?

So that really took hold of me for the first three books. When it became apparent that that had taken hold of me, I came up with the idea of the five-year gap. "Time is not passing here as I want it to pass, so I will jump forward five years in time." And I will come back to these characters when they're a little more grown up. And that is what I tried to do when I started writing Feast for Crows. So [the gap] would have come after A Storm of Swords and before Feast for Crows. But what I soon discovered — and I struggled with this for a year — [the gap] worked well with some characters like Arya — who at end the of Storm of Swords has taken off for Braavos. You can come back five years later, and she has had five years of training and all that. Or Bran, who was taken in by the Children of the Forest and the green ceremony, [so you could] come back to him five years later. That’s good. Works for him. Other characters, it didn’t work at all. I'm writing the Cersei chapters in King's Landing, and saying, "Well yeah, in five years, six different guys have served as Hand and there was this conspiracy four years ago, and this thing happened three years ago." And I'm presenting all of this in flashbacks, and that wasn't working. The other alternative was [that] nothing happened in those five years, which seemed anticlimactic. The Jon Snow stuff was even worse, because at the end of Storm he gets elected Lord Commander. I'm picking up there, and writing "Well five years ago, I was elected Lord Commander. Nothing much has happened since then, but now things are starting to happen again." I finally, after a year, said "I can't make this work."

George R. R. Martin — The Complete Unedited Interview

You know, this is something that I haven't really thought about. I only haven't thought about it because there's something we just don't know: when was George planning to kill Jon with the gap in place? A year or two into the skip? Later? Earlier, or even after the skip, when he's had a few years of rule under his belt? It's probably more likely that it was going to happen after the skip, so I think the end result would be the same as the current book!Jon.

We know that death changes a character to the point where in some ways, they're not that character anymore:

And as I got older and considered it more, it also seemed to me that death doesn’t make you more powerful. That’s, in some ways, me talking to Tolkien in the dialogue, saying, “Yeah, if someone comes back from being dead, especially if they suffer a violent, traumatic death, they’re not going to come back as nice as ever.”

George R. R. Martin on the One Game of Thrones Change He ‘Argued Against’

And we have this, from Varamyr Sixskins:

"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. "When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains." (Prologue, ADwD)

Jon's connection to Ghost takes the front seat in ADwD, so we have moments like this:

Jon expected hot mulled wine, and was surprised to find that it was soup, a thin broth that smelled of leeks and carrots but seemed to have no leeks or carrots in it. The smells are stronger in my wolf dreams, he reflected, and food tastes richer too. Ghost is more alive than I am. He left the empty cup upon the forge. (Jon II, ADwD)

--

He was walking beneath the shell of the Lord Commander's Tower, past the spot where Ygritte had died in his arms, when Ghost appeared beside him, his warm breath steaming in the cold. In the moonlight, his red eyes glowed like pools of fire. The taste of hot blood filled Jon's mouth, and he knew that Ghost had killed that night. No, he thought. I am a man, not a wolf. He rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand and spat. (Jon III, ADwD)

--

Jon smelled Tom Barleycorn before he saw him. Or was it Ghost who smelled him? Of late, Jon Snow sometimes felt as if he and the direwolf were one, even awake. The great white wolf appeared first, shaking off the snow. A few moments later Tom was there.

...

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. (Jon VII, ADwD)

So ultimately, I think the five year skip!Jon would have the same outcome as the Jon we have in the books: a little ruthless, a little different, and far more closer to Ghost.

[light-end-dragon]

Chapter 4

(Sound of the tavern door opening.)

Bartender: Welcome….

Men: Gyaaahha! 

Right as we opened the door, we were assaulted by the overloud guffawing from a group of men. I jumped at the unexpected sound, Bradley just wrinkling his nose.

Bradley: Ugh, look at this vulgar lot. Even Mithra has better manners than that.

Cain: True, he’d never make that much of a racket. Master Sage, don’t get separated from us.

Akira: O-okay….

Said group of men had taken up seats at the most central table in the bar, making it easy to see the source of the clamor. Their table was piled high with a lavish feast, like they were celebrating something.

However, the remains of their food was scattered everywhere, and several of them placed their muddy boots on the table. No matter how happy they seemed, just looking at it gave me an unpleasant feeling.

Akira: (If this were Shylock’s bar, he would’ve kicked them out already. I wonder why this bartender isn’t saying anything…) 

There were a number of other customers dotted along the wall, far away from the noise. They seemed to hate it too, but like the bartender, said nothing.

Bradley took a seat at the counter, leaning over it towards them.

Bradley: Yo, figured I’d stop by for a drink. Bring somethin’ good for me and this guy here, and juice for the squirt in the back.

Bartender: Most certainly. Are you travellers?

Bradley: Somethin’ along those lines. Pretty classy joint you got here, huh?

Bartender: …I am very sorry. I have already spoken to them several times, but as you can see…

The bartender’s posture crumbled, and I followed their gaze around the interior of the building. I could see things that were torn or broken all over, most likely because of this gang.

Cain: Man, these guys really are garbage….do they come here that often?

Bartender: Yes, they are my most unpleasant repeat customers. Granted, they probably only recently drifted down to these parts.

Bartender: I have no idea how they earn that amount of money, though. They’ll come here, raising a clamor for a few days, then disappear, and repeat the whole thing again.

Bartender: They themselves say they are mercenaries, but….theres no fighting here, not even conflicts between local lords. So I have no idea how on earth they’re earning anything. 

The bartender shrugged while serving us our drinks, then left to go take orders from the guests near the walls.

Cain merely took his drink, and was uncharacteristically silent as he took a swig, staring in the mens’ direction.

Cain: …Master Sage. Tell me about those guys; how they look, how many, what they’re actin’ like.

Akira: Huh? Oh, um….there’s a man with a scar on his cheek…he’s the most self-important looking, so he’s probably the leader.

Akira: If we’re going by appearance alone, he looks older than Oz or Figaro. He’s pretty tall and muscular. 

 Akira: There’s two others there about the same age as him; one of them is really well-built too, and the other is kind of unkempt-looking.

Akira: There’s one more there that’s younger than those three. He has long bangs, and the other two seem to bully him a lot. He looks a bit scared of them as well.

Cain: Okay, I’m gettin’ the picture now…thanks.

Cain: Okay, I’m gonna head over and talk with those guys a lil bit. They sound like the kinda guys who would know about some pretty awful things. 

Akira: Huh?! Wait, no, it’s dangerous!

Bradley: Whatever, just get goin’. Don’t fuck it up, got it?

Akira: Huh?!!!

Cain: Of course, of course. I’ll leave the Sage to you; come in at a good time, kay?

Without batting an eye, he clapped me on the shoulder and then headed over. Still worried, I leaned over to whisper into Bradley’s ear.

Akira: Is-is this really okay? Cain is very strong, but he’d raise a huge clamor if he drew his sword now, and he can’t use magic…

Bradley: Haha…yer real full of questions t’day, Sage. This is jus’ like what happened back when we started livin’ at the manor. 

Bradley: Picture me, the great Bradley Bain, feared bandit of the North, a terror to kids in their dreams, jus’ sitting at the table, eatin’ my food. Then, Mr. Central knight comes in.

Bradley: An’ what d’ya think he did as soon as he laid eyes on me? 

Akira: I..don’t know. What..did he do?

Bradley: Came straight over, flung an arm ‘round my shoulders, an’ said, “Yo, what’re you eatin’ there? It seems pretty good.” 

Cain: -Yo, what’re you eatin’ there? Seems pretty good.

I then heard Cain’s friendly voice, repeating almost verbatim what Bradley just said. 

He didn’t put an arm over any of their shoulders, instead leaning towards them in a familiar manner.

The men, however, grew angry at some strange young man suddenly approaching them.

Unkempt Man: Huh? The fuck are you?

Leader-like Man: You got the nerve t’ act all friendly with us??

In the sudden chaotic atmosphere, the young man with long bangs startled, his shoulders tensing up. 

However Cain, widening his eyes with surprise, just brought both his hands up in surrender.

Cain: Ah-my bad, my bad! That was pretty damn rude of me to just say hi like that. I’m sorry for interrupting your meal.

Cain: It’s just..you guys look like regulars, and you got some really fancy stuff laid out on your table, so I figured you might know what the best thing to eat here is. 

Cain: It’s my first time around these parts, and this particular tavern. If it’s okay, I’d love to hear your recommendations.

The group of hoodlums all glanced at each other, then back at Cain, who was offering them a handshake with an honest expression.

Despite being taken aback by his behavior, they still shook his hand,  glancing warily at the knight.

They did not seem to notice that Cain’s left hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword the whole time.

Bradley just shrugged as he drained his glass, standing up and stretching after putting a sizeable amount of silver coins on the counter.

Bradley: Barkeep, keep an eye on this one, will ya? Sage, you keep lookin’ too. Come over when its good.

Bartender: Thank you very much for your generosity; please leave it to me, sir.

Akira: W-wait, when you say good…..

Without stopping, Bradley just took large strides over to where Cain now was.

(Sound of fabric being grabbed.)

He then grabbed Cain by the scruff on his neck, much like he would a misbehaving puppy.

Cain: Gck-

Bradley: Oi. Ain’t I always sayin’ to stop wanderin’ off on your own and botherin’ the hell outta strangers?

Cain: Sorry, sorry, I kinda got excited. 

Bradley: Ugh. …Well, suppose it’s my bad for my partner here, he’s always like this. He’s jus’ bein’ a brat, so don’t think he’s got any ill will.

Leader-like Man: …..I guess…..

Bradley: Listen, I ain’t good with apologies so have a lil somethin’ on us.

Bradley: Though while we’re here, might as well ask for any interestin’ tales ya got of these here parts.

Bradley: We’re in the middle of travellin’ right now; any bit o’ gossip’s a help.

(Sound of a chair being dragged over.)

Pulling a chair over, Bradley flopped down on it with a heavy weight. 

At some point he must’ve taken out his magic tool, because unlike Cain and his sword, it was set down nearby as if it were a dare. 

Perhaps unconsciously, the gang of men then watched how Cain was going to respond. 

(Sound of another chair being dragged over.)

He too just pulled up a seat while giving a pleasant smile, falling in line with Bradley like they really were travellers who trusted each other.

Cain: What he said. That’s kinda also why I was askin’ for recommendations; I’d love to hear what you know.

The cheerful smile, the overbearing attitude, the innocent, endearing nature, gifts to make yourself be admired; all of it was calculated. All of it, a part of their plan. 

[nijjhar]

Those who were sealed to serve God, the Pneumatic thinking logically wer... Those who were sealed to serve God, the Pneumatic thinking logically were Rewarded at Pentecost with the "Holy Spirit" that Jesus and John possessed making them Twin Brethren of Christ Jesus. https://youtu.be/l5JgCD0vprA The last Supper called Eucharist or entering into the Bridal Chamber is the Baptism of Jesus in the Holy Spirit. Holy Gospel of our Supernatural Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., delivered by the First Anointed Christ, which in Punjabi we call Satguru Jesus of the highest living God Elohim that dwells within His Temple of God created by the demiurge Potter, the Lord of the Nature Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc., the Greatest Artist of all and it is called Harmandir or “Emmanuel” according to Saint John 13,21-33.36-38. Reclining at the table with his twice-born Labourers and not the once-born disciples of the Rabbis, Jesus was deeply troubled and testified, «Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me». His twice-born Brethren looked at one another, at a loss as to whom he meant. They were not at loss but knew the Thief Judas Iscariot stealing money from the purse as today, these hireling Dog-Collared Priests in the Churches do as their salaries and expenses making the Church go bankrupt but they don’t care. That is why in Christ Jesus we have One Fold Mammon-Free Church of God headed by One Shepherd possessing the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God our Bridegroom Christ Jesus and we have a Fellowship of the Royal Priests rendering expositions of the Parables that the Hireling Priests cannot render. One of his Brethren, the one whom Jesus loved, was reclining at Jesus' side. So the once-born but truthful Simon Peter nodded to him to find out whom he meant. He leaned back against Jesus' chest and said to him, "Master, who it is?" Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I hand the morsel after I have dipped it." So he dipped the morsel and (took it and) handed it to Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot of the dominating most clever Judah tribe, the Princes of Darkness whilst in India, we have the people of the Khatri tribe Kings and Emperors of Darkness. After he took the morsel, Satan was confirmed in him. So Jesus said to him, "What you are going to do, do quickly." (Now) None of those reclining at the table realized why he said this to him. Some thought that since Judas kept the money bag, Jesus had told him, "Buy what we need for the feast," or to give something to the poor. They knew that Judas Iscariot is hand-in-hand with the Temple Priests. They were not stupid but these Messianic Jews corrupted the New Testament as well. So he took the morsel and left at once. And it was night. This was the man who was thrown out of the Wedding Banquette of the Son, Christ Jesus because Sadhus do not handle money. When Judas had left them, Jesus said, "Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him because there is no Mammon-loving Thief among them. (If God is glorified in him,) God will also glorify him in himself for God lives in His Mammon-Free Temple, and he will glorify him at once. My Brethren and not children, I will be with you only a little while longer. You will look for me, and as I told the Jews in the Temple, 'Where I go you greedy Priests cannot come,' so now I say it to you. Simon Peter said to him, "Master, where are you going?" Jesus answered (him), "Where I am going, you cannot join me for you are once-born and not follow as a blind persons do, me now, though you will JOIN ME later after getting your REWARD of the Holy Spirit from our Supernatural Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc." Peter said to him, "Master, why can't I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you." Jesus answered, "Will you lay down your life for me? Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow before you deny me three times." Holy spirit, common sense, shatters the fetters of the dead letters, the Holy Books. If we have One God, our Supernatural Father of our souls, then there should be one Faith. In Christianity, Jesus said One Fold called the Church of God headed by One Shepherd, our Bridegroom Christ Jesus/Christ = Satguru Nanak Dev Ji, the Second coming of Jesus. Luke 16v16; Law and Prophets were till John and thus, everyone makes a direct approach to God through His Word = Logo = SATGUR PARSAD. So, these hireling Dog-Collared Priests and Mullahs, cannot give your account to God as the Rabbis used to give at Passover....... Thus, Jesus was born and Jesus died on the Cross and rose on the Third Day and NOT CHRIST, THE TITLE. Greatest Blasphemers and Killers Blair and Bush https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qHdTpTXHvE&list=PL0C8AFaJhsWz7HtQEhV91eAKugUw73PW1 Blair and Bush’s blasphemies against the Holy Spirit https://youtu.be/0WBYOmpDuCs American Jews are today – http://www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/GrimReaper.htm My Books:- ONE GOD ONE FAITH:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/bookfin.pdf John's baptism:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/johnsig.pdf Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf

[fandom-puff]

A Lion’s Feast

Pairing: tywin lannister x younger!wife!reader

Requested by: anon ‘Could you write a modern au for tywin lannister x younger wife reader. Maybe they have a Lannister family dinner and its all just chaotic.’

Notes: I didn’t end up doing this as a modern AU, because I found it easier to work with everything in like... Westerosi time frame, but I hope this is okay.

Warnings: older man/younger woman, political/arranged marriage, Joffrey, use of words like slut/whore etc (cheers, Cers), reference to Jaime and Cersei’s incest, awkward family dinner

Gif creds to owner

“We will be dining in the Queen’s chambers tonight,”

You tensed up, staring straight ahead as you walked through the gardens of the Red Keep with your lord husband. “Am I… in trouble?” You asked softly. You were new to King’s Landing, shipped over from the Vale to marry the Lord of Casterly Rock, and you weren’t quite used to the way King Joffrey’s court worked.

“No. I’ve arranged for us to dine together as a family. You have not properly met my children and grandchildren. You are a Lannister by marriage, you are their mother-in-law, whether they like it or not, and it’s high time we acted like it,” his voice had a bitter edge to it; it hadn’t taken long for Queen Cersei to make her distaste clear. While no one in court would dare insult Tywin Lannister, the girl from the Vale was an easy target for gossip. You had been called every name under the sun, but the Queen’s favourite jibe was ‘whore’.

“Alright,” you murmured, lowering your eyes. You knew there would be no point in arguing. You had quickly learnt that when your husband put his mind to something, there was no turning back. As a few men of the court crossed your path, you felt Tywin’s hand come to rest on the small of your back, and it did not move until you were in the tower of the Hand. You smiled softly as you caught sight of the steaming tub of hot water, scented with sweet oils as you entered your bedroom. “You’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you, my Lord?” You asked, a small smirk gracing your lips. “You should’ve just told my handmaidens to do it in my chambers, to save the walk up all of those stairs,”

Tywin smiled ever-so-slightly. “You’re hardly ever in your own chambers downstairs, wife,” he reminded you.

“Only because you’re the only person I really know in this godforsaken keep, and even then I don’t know you that well. Besides, if I stayed in my own chambers, I’d get lost and end up in the maze of dragon skulls below the keep,”

Tywin smirked, giving you a little push by the small of your back. “Bathe. Wear red, and preferably rubies and gold,” he said sternly. You sighed, knowing Tywin wanted you to dress the part, to look like the Lady of Casterly Rock. You bathed and dried, perfuming your skin and hair before pulling on your smallclothes, calling in your handmaiden to tighten your bodice, then help lace up your dress. It was a deep red, with golden embroidery on the bodice and cuffs that glimmered when you moved, just covering your shoulders and showing the swell of your breasts, and you fastened a pendant around your neck- a golden lion with tiny rubies for its eyes, tongue and claws. You braided back the front of your hair, but let the rest fall down over your shoulders.

You emerged from the room into Tywin’s main office, your hands folded in front of you. He surveyed you briefly before nodding, offering his arm.

**

You sat in silence as you ate, eyes fixed on your plate. Tywin was sat to your left, Jaime to your right. Cersei and Joffrey occupied the heads of the table, and Tyrion sat across from you, in between Myrcella and Tommen.

“More wine, my Lady?” Tyrion said out of the blue, holding up the jug. He gave you a slight smile, knowing how you must feel to be the outcast, like a stranger with the people you were meant to call family.

“I... yes, please. Thank you, my Lord,” you said.

Tyrion smiled as he poured, before filling his own glass. “Just Tyrion will suffice. Let us leave formality at the door,” you smiled slightly and nodded.

“I agree,” said Jaime, earning himself a sharp look from Cersei, who was used to her twin almost always siding with her. “Wasn’t the whole point of this evening to introduce you to us? As a family,” Cersei scoffed into her goblet. “We won’t get very far with ‘my lords’ and ‘my ladies’, will we?”

Tywin nodded his approval at his sons’ attitude and you smiled, beginning to relax a little, though the presence of Cersei and Joffrey kept you on edge. “Tell me, Lady YN, how is the Vale at this time? Have the northerners got their grubby claws on it yet?” Joffrey suddenly asked.

You froze slightly. You were here to talk, yes, but not talk politics. “The Vale... your grace, is not quite like the Reach, or the Riverlands, or even like Winterfell or Casterly Rock,” you said carefully, fully aware of all of the eyes on you. You looked at Tywin, and when he gave you an approving nod, you turned back to the king and continued. “The majority of the Vale is mountain, with the valley you desire buried between them. Even Robb Stark’s best men couldn’t seize it. No one could. To take the Vale, one must take the Eyrie. To take the Eyrie... well... you just couldn’t,” you were happy sharing this fact, as it was known across Westeros that the Eyrie was impenetrable.

“There are other ways to the Eyrie, though. Marriage,” Cersei said. It was the first time she had spoken, and she had a conniving gleam in her eye.

“There is only one heir to the Vale. Jon Arryn was murd-died before he could have any more children. Only little Robert Arryn is the Lord of the Vale, and he’s just past his sixth name day I believe. Besides, his mother is... very protective of her boy. As I’m sure you can understand, your grace, as a mother yourself,” you said cooly. You didn’t know what possessed you to speak that way to the Queen, but something about speaking of your home, your true home filled you with confidence.

“Indeed. There is nothing quite like a mother’s love,” she responded, fixing you with a cold stare.

“I’m unfamiliar, having lost my mother when I was seven,” you said.

“Does the Eyrie really have a trap door that leads nowhere?” Tommen Baratheon suddenly asked, breaking the silence between you and his mother.

You smiled softly at the little boy. How could someone so innocent come from the loins of a beast like Cersei. You supposed some of the good nature came from his father- his true father, that is, Jaime Lannister. “Yes,” you said. “They call it the Moon Door. It’s a big trap door that opens into the sky. If the Lord of the Vale commands, prisoners can be thrown from it,” you stopped, realising quickly how gruesome that must sound to a little boy.

Tommen simply shrugged. “I suppose that must be less messy,” he said, returning his focus to his food. Soon Tommen and Myrcella were bundled off to bed, and Myrcella told you rather sweetly that she liked the way you did your hair.

Once the children were gone, it left only you and Tywin, his three children and the King. Tywin suggested you move away from the dining table to sit and drink wine. Joffrey excused himself, utterly disinterested with continuing on with the evening. You felt a little lighter after he left, although you could feel Cersei staring daggers at you.

“It must feel strange,” Jaime said. “Coming down here from the Vale. I imagine it’s all rather confusing, and daunting,”

“You can say that again,” you said. “I thought I’d just get bundled off to Casterly Rock, never seen or spoken to,”

Tywin laughed slightly. “Come now, wife, we do have some level of decency in this family,” he said. You smiled shyly, looking at your lap. He was often a little more... relaxed after a few glasses of wine.

“Ha!” Cersei said, having also drunk a fair bit. She had been holding her tongue all night, and it seemed now it had loosened. “Once he puts an heir in your belly, you’ll be shipped off to Casterly Rock. And if it’s a girl, you’ll be spared a visit or two, until you give us a son. That’s all you’re here for, that’s all you’re good for,”

You sat up a little straighter, responding before Tywin could. “I am aware of the general concept of political marriages. Your father gets a wife and an heir, my family gets money, or protection or something of the sort. The Seven know, you Lannisters have gold pouring out of your ears,”

“I believe the phrase is that we ‘shit gold,’” Tyrion supplied with a smirk, making you chuckle.

“You think this is a game,” Cersei hissed. “I’ve seen you, prancing around court, dressed in red and gold, following father around like a lost dog! Fluttering about like a common slut,”

“Cersei-” Jaime said lowly.

“No! No! Can’t you see, she has her claws in father the same way Margaery has her claws in Joffrey! And you want me to accept that whore as my mother,”

It was silent. Cersei panted, now standing up. Jaime and Tyrion looked between her and Tywin. Tywin remained stoic, although his eyes revealed the way he seethed. But it was you who spoke first.

“I don’t expect you to accept me as your mother. I am not your mother. Nor will I ever try to be, or call myself that,” you said quietly, contrasting the Queen’s outburst. “I will, however, do my best to serve my husband, to provide him with the heir that is expected of me, the same way you provided King Robert with his heirs,”

Cersei snorted. “I’m sure you do a fine job of serving, you brazen little who-”

“Enough, Cersei!” Tywin finally said, standing up. “Whether you like it or not, I have married YN. She will give me an heir, or two, or more. And she will remain the lady of Casterly rock, no matter how much you protest,”

“She’s not fit to be lady of Casterly rock. She can barely curtsey,” she spat. “You have heirs, father,” she said, almost pleasing. “What need have you for a little whore,”

“I have a son who swore an oath, another who has more interest in wine and whoring, and a daughter who is not nearly as clever and tactical as she thinks she is. Casterly rock will not be left to either of you when I’m gone. It will be left to mine and YN’s son,”

“It could be! It could be left to one of my children,” Cersei hissed.

“One of your children? I wouldn’t put a bastard on the seat of Casterly Rock,” Tywin said cooly. Cersei opened her mouth to argue but Tywin held up his hand. “Give it up, Cersei. You told me yourself, my legacy is a lie. You have had your chance to build the Lannister name. Now it is time for YN and I to rebuild what you have trampled into the ground with your lies and your... acts,” he said with disgust. “And if I so much as hear the words whore or slut to describe my wife, I will resign as hand, withdraw my knights and my gold, as well as that of the Vale and leave you to pick up the pieces of this kingdom that I have been holding together. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from the Tyrells. Come YN,” he said, turning away from his daughter and resting his hand on your waist, guiding you out of the Queens chambers and back to the tower of the hand, not giving you a chance to curtsey to the Queen.

As the door slammed shut, Tyrion drained the rest of his wine and clapped his hands as he stood. “Well. That went well,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen

[twistedtranslations]

Kalim Al Asim - Master Chef

You can unlock this story by getting Kalim’s SR Master Chef

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

A little while before the cooking preparations start-

Kalim: Chef! Please take care of me!

Trey: Well, aren’t you excited?

Ghost chef: He certainly is. Were you perhaps looking forward to the Master Chef program?

Kalim: Yeah! I’ve always been told that “I’m not allowed to use kitchen knives or stoves because they’re dangerous”. That’s why I pretty much never cooked before. But they gave me the okay because a professional is instructing me today! So I’m super excited to try some real cooking!

Ghost chef: S-So, they forbid you to touch knives and stoves? You must’ve grown up in quite an overprotective household. Nevertheless, I am elated that you were looking forward to this program so much! I am eager to teach you. Let me list the meals we’re going to make today.

Kalim: We’re going to make biryani, right?

Ghost chef: Yes. Biryani is a seasoned rice with meat and all kinds of ingredients and spices. We steam curry and rice together, alternated on top of each other in layers. Originally it was a dish of the royal court, and is served a lot at festivals~

Kalim: That’s great! Seems like a perfect dish to welcome guests with.

Trey: Hey Kalim. I have one question… You’re always hosting the banquets. Have you never worked behind the scenes? If you never did, I understand why you wouldn’t know how to cook on purpose but…

Kalim: Now that you say it, Jamil always takes care of the preparations, not me. But this time I know that it’s the host's job to cook the meals to entertain the guests at the banquet. Seeing a chunk of meat roast in front of you, cutting stuff up… I really wanted to try it myself!

Trey: I see. So that’s why you took up Master Chef.

Kalim: Yeah. I can entertain more guests by learning more ways to delight them. By the way, you’re in charge of making the sweets at Heartslabyul’s tea parties, aren’t you? You seem like an expert at receptions, so if you have any secrets, please tell me.

Trey: I don’t think you should use our Unbirthday parties as reference. It’s basically just a gathering of people of our own. It’s different from your parties with guests from all over. And even if you were to use it as a reference… Don’t you want to try making sweets for divided preferences?

Kalim: Huh! So you do it like that. I just want to make everyone eat whatever I like… But yeah, there probably are some people who don’t like peculiar tasting herbs. I realized that next time I hold a feast, I should have a menu that everyone loves and not only ornate dishes. I just want to please as many people as I can!

Ghost chef: Indeed, the guests’s wishes are most important for hospitality. I too stand in the kitchen every day to see the smiles of our students. But enough chattering. It’s about time to cook!

Kitchen

Ghost chef: Kalim, there are enough ingredients to make this recipe three times. In the unlikely event that you fail, we’ll be fine. Relax and enjoy the process.

Kalim: Gotcha! I’ll do my best!

Ghost chef: First, we should cut the ingredients. I’ll have you cut the ginger, garlic, onions and tomatoes. Let’s start with the tomato. Put the flat side on the chopping board. That makes it easier to cut.

Kalim: The flat side… Like this?

Ghost chef: Yes! Now you take the knife with your dominant hand. Hold the tomato down with your other hand so it won’t move when cutting. Put the knife in front of you and press down the middle, while moving back and forth to cut it. Try to use big movements instead of force.

Kalim: Softly with big movements… Wow, I cut the tomato in half!

Ghost chef: Yes, well done! Continue cutting it like that.

Ghost chef: Okay, we finished cutting everything. Next up is…

Kalim: Hm? Hey, chef. There are still some uncut ingredients on the table, can’t we use them?

Ghost chef: Those were just spares in case you failed. You can add ingredients to your preference if you want to?

Kalim: Really? I’m going to use everything!

Ghost chef: E-Everything!? That’s about three times more than the recipe calls for. If you do that our next step might become problematic… Are you sure?

Kalim: Yeah. The more ingredients, the more our guests can eat to their heart's content. Okay, I’m cutting the rest!

Ghost chef: We have now finished cutting up all the spares. Next up is a vital part of biryani’s flavor… the curry! First, heat oil in a saucepan. Stir-fry the green cardamom, clove and cinnamon.

Kalim: Gotcha. ...Ah, wait! You know, I think it’d be splendid if we add more spices, considering we also added more ingredients.

Ghost chef: Right. If you added three times the ingredients, we should also add three times the spices…

Kalim: Great! Okay I’m adding all the spices!

Ghost chef: What?

/Pouring noise

Ghost chef: (H-HE POURED IN ALL THE SPICES~~!)

Kalim: Hahaha! I’m sure this will turn out great with all these ingredients and spices! Let’s continue cooking!

Chapter 2

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

Ruggie: Lalalalala~ Man, bein’ chosen as judge is so great for my food expenses. I’m so looking forward to it. I can already smell the aromas from the kitchen… BLERGH!! T-This intense smell… are those spices!? What the heck happened there!?

Kalim: Hey, Ruggie! So you’re the judge. That’s great! I got some biryani to serve.

Ruggie: No… I have to judge Kalim’s food…

Kalim: Here you go, bon appétit.

Ruggie: Bon appétit, he says… wait, why is there a mountain spilling off this large plate!? How many servings are there!?

Kalim: Uh, I used all the spare ingredients… I wonder how many servings there are? Anyway, it was a huge pot!

Ruggie: O-Okay. (Just as I expected, this seems spicy…) But not eating it would be a waste… I just gotta dig in!

/Chomp

Ruggie: HHHHHHHOOOOOT!! This is too spicy! Is this a punishment!?

Kalim: A-Ah? I wanted you to eat your fill, so I put in a lot of ingredients but did I overdo it? … Ruggie! You’re dripping in sweat after only one bite of the biryani! Hm… and Trey even told me that thinking about the preferences of the guests is important in hospitality. If you don’t like biryani I should just serve another…

Ruggie: ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! Eatin’ what’s served is my creed. Even if I take it home, I’ll finish it! I’m very happy that there are so many ingredients… I’ll be fine, I’ll eat it!

Kalim: H-Hey. This is the first time you made such a cornered expression!? To think I made such an inedible thing for you to persist like that… Sorry, Ruggie! I’m not used to cooking…

Ghost chef: Oh, calm down, you two! It’s fine to remake it instead of being pessimistic.

Kalim: If it weren’t that spicy you should be able to enjoy it right!?

Ruggie: Now that’s a wonderful idea!

Kalim: Okay, let me make something that you won’t regret! But how should I remake it?

Ghost chef: Right, how about this?

/Placing cutlery down

Ruggie: Hmpf… I’m so full! I’m satisfied! And the way you wrapped the spicy biryani in an omelet like omurice, and how you stewed it in coconut milk. That got me. Kalim, your do-overs were all amazing.

Kalim: Great! What a relief.

Ruggie: By the way, can I take the leftovers home?

Kalim: Of course!

Ruggie: Shshshs. I won’t have to worry about food for a few days with these!

Kalim: … While the biryani was a failure, I still learned a lot of skills and satisfied Ruggie. Thank you, chef!

Ghost chef: You’re welcome. Kalim, you honestly have a lot of potential. I want you to continue challenging your cooking.

Kalim: Really? I’ll do my best to learn many more recipes to please my guests!

Ruggie: Wait there, I think you should taste it as well...

[marvel-and-mischief]

Tulips

Part of my Floriography Series

A/N: This is a two-parter, Part 1 (titled Tulips) will be a gender neutral reader and Part 2 (titled White Carnation & Violets) will be a female reader with smut.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x GN!Reader Words: 1500 Warnings: inexperienced reader, food/fish descriptions, this is the second fic I have Oberyn feeding you fruit (you’re welcome), they are in a room surrounded by naked people but descriptions aren’t too graphic Synopsis: Oberyn hosts a charitable feast for all of Sunspear. You happen to attend, catching the eye of the Prince.

Tulips: charity

💐

The magnificent castle of Sunspear had been transformed into an open free for all at the request of Dorne’s favorite son, Prince Oberyn. For three days and three nights the poorest, the richest, and everybody in between were welcome to eat, dance and be merry to their hearts’ content. 

The corridors and public rooms were lit with burning lamps hung down from the ceilings, sweet smelling candles lined the windowsills to mask the smell of sweat and sex, musicians played fun, upbeat songs for dancing and slow, sensual sounds later into the night. 

By the third and final night the castle was still thriving with full bellies and even fuller hearts, and though Oberyn had been having a good time, tonight he decided to take a step back, remain in the shadows and observe his people.

Oberyn entered the feasting hall late into the night, when most people were too drunk or preoccupied with company to notice his presence. He leaned over the shoulder of a man writhing in the lap of another man, scooped a handful of mixed nuts and berries from a bowl on the table and moved away before he could be tempted to join in. Maybe later, he thought, nibbling on his sweet treats. 

He noticed Ellaria in his seat at the head of the table, sharing it with a beautiful woman who was kissing her neck and running her hands through Ellaria’s long, dark hair, just as Oberyn liked to. Her lover for the night was soft and curvy and enthusiastic in her want for the other woman. Oberyn would have nodded his approval to his paramour if she had bothered to look up.  

“A goblet, my Prince?” came a voice from behind him. Oberyn slowly swivelled on one foot to see a female servant balancing a golden tray with a goblet of wine on top. 

“You shouldn’t be serving,” Oberyn chastised, taking the wine nonetheless and motioning with it to the surrounding people, most of whom were making out with each other.

“It’s not my thing,” the woman said, tucking the tray underneath her arm. She looked like she wanted to leave but wouldn’t dare without permission. Oberyn thought he’d tease her a little more.

“Love isn’t your thing?” Oberyn watched as her eyes widened in thought, feet shuffling uncomfortably.

“Of course I believe in love, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” she whispered, “I prefer my love to be private that’s all.”

Oberyn nodded, a smirk on his lips as he took a sip of wine, swirling the liquid around on his tongue before swallowing suggestively. A light blush appeared on the servant’s cheeks as she followed the movement down his throat.

“Fair enough, little one,” Oberyn sighed, content in his mischief, “but I demand you put that tray down and enjoy this final night, you are the only one not joining in.”

“I’m not the only one,” she shrugged, eyeing a figure sitting on a plump stool in a darkened corner of the room.

Oberyn followed her gaze to see you, legs crossed with a plate of food in your lap. You were paying no attention to anyone but the pile of fish and bread you were tucking into. A curious smile appeared on Oberyn’s face and he immediately dismissed the servant in favor of leaning against a wall in the shadows to watch you. 

You never once looked up as Oberyn watched you pick away the bones from the fish to set aside on the plate, licking your fingers and thumbs of the slightly salted flakes that clung to them. Oberyn found that it thrilled him to see you enjoying what his wealth could offer you; he put that food in your belly. There was something about providing something to someone and seeing them take pleasure in it that sent a burst of pride through his body and puffed out his chest. Maybe he should put on more feasts in the future.

You finished your food and stretched in your seat, back arching like a content feline, and let out a sigh that went unnoticed by the distracted occupants of the room. It was only then that you saw him, far enough away that you hadn’t been aware of him paying attention to you but close enough that he laughed at your quiet gasp of shock. 

“My Prince,” you whispered in awe, and slight embarrassment. You quickly dropped the plate to the floor so you could stand and give a small bow in greeting, but Oberyn moved at a leisurely pace to guide you back to sit on the stool. He wanted you to relax, to go back to the person you were when you didn’t know he was watching you, uncaring of keeping up appearances, the real you.

“Have you eaten enough? There is plenty more if you are hungry,” Oberyn offered kindly. You looked over to the plentiful dishes of various foods on display at the large feasting table, but you declined with a small shake of your head.

“I have had my fill, thank you my Prince,” you smiled politely but kept eye contact, becoming braver the longer you held a conversation with him. 

“Please, call me Oberyn tonight. Have you been here before? I regret, I haven’t seen you,” Oberyn fixed you with a look of scrutiny, trying to place your features. He had been rather busy the first two days of feasting, indulging in both wine and lovers, so he could be forgiven for not seeing you until now.

 “My father is the head gardener, I sometimes accompany him to the castle.”

Oberyn nodded thoughtfully, leaning down to take your hand in his. 

“I regret this is the first time I am seeing you properly,” you watched as he played with your hand, running his soft fingers along yours and along the lines of your palm. You felt your body relax at his ministrations, the feeling having a calming effect on your beating heart. During the lull in conversation you took the time to map out his facial features, the long nose, the perfect line of hair that ran along his jaw, eyes that seemed dark and piercing from afar were actually soft and round up close. The Oberyn before you was a stark contract to the stories of the Viper you had heard about on the lips of strangers, but confirmed everything your father had told you about his employer; Oberyn was warmth and kindness to those that deserved it. 

“Perhaps I can get to know you better somewhere private?”

You stared up at Oberyn, suddenly tongue tied at his suggestion. It’s not that you didn’t want to, but you never had. And now here was an actual Prince propositioning you and you didn’t know what to do. You gazed around at the people in the room in various states of undress, in various stages of making love. You weren’t ignorant of the goings on but you were always too shy to join in lest your inexperience was something to be laughed at or ridiculed. 

Oberyn took your lack of response as a sign of nervousness and kneeled down in front of you, your hand still held in his. You locked eyes with him and cleared your throat to speak, but he beat you to it.

“You can say no, I am not in the business of pressuring anyone to do anything they do not wish to,” Oberyn assured you gently, as though talking to a flittering bird that could fly away at any moment. 

“I fear you would not be satisfied with me,” you admitted cautiously, deciding to focus your attention on your joined hands. 

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Oberyn smirked. A shock of silver caught his eye, a bowl of fruit on a table to his side and it gave him an idea. He reached over and picked out a plump strawberry, spinning it deftly by the stalk before showing it to you. 

You looked at the fruit as he presented it to you, a mixture of confusion and curiosity as he slowly brought it to your mouth. You knew then what he was doing and opened your mouth to take it in, carefully biting into the middle. The juice spurted out, most of it going into your mouth but some of it dripped down your chin. Oberyn hurried forward and traced the juice along your skin before bringing it to his mouth to suck it off his finger, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. 

You felt a smile creep onto your lips. You liked this feeling, of being seduced and wanted. Oberyn wasn’t another leery man who wanted pleasure and didn’t care about yours, like those that had flirted with you in the past. This felt exciting and fun and you wanted more.

“Can we go somewhere private now?”

Oberyn grinned at your sudden boldness, threw the rest of the strawberry to the floor and jumped into a standing position, offering you a hand to take.

And take it you did. 

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @computeringturtle​ @anu-simps​ @bts17army​ 

[lardguz]

The Aegis's Master Plan

I'm posting this story from the mobile app because I can't access my laptop until later today, but! I've been chipping away at this stupid story for months now, I started it way before the last story I posted. I kind of wrote myself into a corner by getting both Mal//os and J//in at sizes I had never really written before and then... Kept going. So it took me a really, really long time and lots of writers block to finally figure out how to finish it. But, I did! I think. I can't remember if I ever like, wrapped the story properly because the file is so goddamn big. ^^;

Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy two very homoerotic antagonists stuffing each others faces!

The Monoceros. A huge mechanical marvel of a warship, unlike any other that the nations of Alrest used for their transport. This metal beast of a ship didn’t rely on Titans to move, instead roaming the Cloud Sea unfettered by any lifeform. Within the black metal armor of the craft lay the secret base of the Blade terrorist group, New Torna. The leader of the ragtag group, the Flesh Eater named Jin, was currently preoccupied with matters other than freeing Blades and Core Crystals from those who would abuse them.

 

The long-haired man stood in the Monoceros’s kitchen, cooking up a storm. Three serving carts piled high already with his culinary crafts, he was working on loading up the fourth and final cart with the last of the dishes he had planned for the evening. This much food was usually only prepared for huge feasts for royalty, or small armies, but Jin had only one dining partner this evening. Said dining partner was currently heckling him from outside in the mess hall.

 

“Hey, Jin! How much longer is dinner gonna take, anyways?! You’d think 500 years of perfecting your technique would make you cook faster than the average human child, hah!” called the loud, brash voice of Malos, the Aegis himself, and Jin’s second-in-command in leading New Torna.

The white-haired Blade groaned as he plated some Gormotti Sashimi, and called back in an even tone that didn’t betray his frustration with his partner. “I’m almost done, Malos, would you please be patient? You requested a lot more food than I am generally used to preparing at once.”

“Well, what can I say?,” the sarcastic voice bellowed back, “Regaining my full Aegis powers made me really damned hungry. And you do not want to be on my bad side when I’m hungry, so HURRY IT UP.”

Jin sighed and resigned himself to his position, when a brilliant idea struck. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pouch. The quiet man had stolen this appetite-enhancement powder out of the barracks of the Ardainain warship he had stormed on his own a while back. Some private must have stashed it away to help gain muscle mass in training exercises. Maybe I could use this to get back at Malos for all the shit he’s constantly putting me through… thought Jin. Without missing a beat, he opened the pouch and began sprinkling its contents liberally over every single dish he had prepared for the evening. His cunning plan now in motion, Jin began wheeling the massive feast out to the dining hall, where Malos sat waiting for him.

 

 The darkly-armored Blade sat reclined in his wooden chair, his boots kicked up on the banquet table. He sneered as Jin began putting all the beautiful dishes he’d spent all day cooking on the table. “So this is the best food Alrest has to offer, huh? Certainly doesn’t look like much, Jin. You sure this will please an Aegis like me?” Jin nodded, respectfully and impassive, refusing to reveal his intentions with his expression. Malos chuckled, and pulled a plate of Ruska Dumplings toward himself. “Guess I’ll just have to see for myself, then!” Grasping a dumpling in his armored hand, he popped it into his mouth, chewing contemplatively. His eyes opened slowly, and he spoke around the dumpling. “Hey, that’s not half bad. I think I’ll eat the rest of these if you don’t mind, Jin.”

 

“No, go ahead, Malos. Feel free to enjoy until you’re satisfied.” Jin responded softly, as he began moving some more of the plates within reach of the hungry Aegis. He observed silently as Malos demolished the plate of dumplings and immediately moved onto the next dish, a plate of grilled salmon with herbs, without even making any of his usual sarcastic comments. That powder really shut him up, Jin silently mused, when he noticed something else. It seemed like his appetite wasn’t the only thing the powder was effecting. The Aegis’s once-strong and muscular body seemed to be growing softer before Jin’s very eyes. As Malos polished off the salmon and moved onto a plate of Cinnopon Rolls, some of the armor plating his body snapped off and clattered to the floor, allowing his partner to get a better look at his growth.

 

The first thing Jin noticed was that Malos’s stomach was much, much larger than it was before. The soft, flabby mass was resting comfortably on his thighs, the stretchy bodysuit he wore under his armor not doing anything to hold it back. His thighs were also softening considerably, and Jin couldn’t resist pinching the plush fat that now coated them, nodding approvingly as his fingers sunk in about two inches deep. The Aegis’s ass, once well-toned and round, was now squarish in shape, the cheeks losing their form and squishing into the back of the dining chair, threatening to droop off the edges along with his fat thighs if he kept up the rate he was devouring his solo feast. His arms were also getting bigger and softer, and his formerly toned pecs were now budding into a magnificent pair of breasts, resting comfortably atop his growing gut. His Core Crystal was nestled comfortably between each moob, and Jin wondered how visible it would be in a few hours. Malos’s face, which not long ago was rather sharp and intimidating, now undeniably had a certain rounded softness to it, his cheeks puffing out just a little bit, and a double chin peeking out any time he chewed on his food. Jin began massaging his boyfriend’s shoulders softly, feeling the fat between his fingers and getting an unexpected thrill of delight from it. He realized this was no longer about payback, but wanting to get his partner as big as he possibly could, and knowing he was an Aegis, that was probably a pretty high ceiling to reach.

 

Jin leaned forward to whisper in Malos’s ear from where he stood behind the growing Blade. “Are you enjoying the meal, Malos?” he asked softly. Malos laughed around a mouthful of roasted poultry. “Hah! What, can’t you tell? This food is suiting my needs just fine, Jin. Why, d’you want some too?”

Jin hesitated. “Oh, no, I’m fine. I made this all especially for you, remember?”

Malos nodded, taking another massive bite of the drumstick in front of his face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I feel like you really earned this, ya know?” The Aegis chuckled darkly as he made his move.

 

With alarming speed for one as fat as he was, Malos spun around in his chair and grabbed both Jin’s wrists, forcing him to the floor. Jin let out a yell of surprise that was cut short as Malos landed on top of him, his massive weight pinning him and knocking the wind out of his lungs. Malos smirked deviously. “You really thought I didn’t notice the food was off?! You idiot, I’m the Master Blade, of course I noticed you messed with my food! Which means…” Malos reached for a plate of Lovemerry Cake, grabbing a fistful of the sweet confection and shoving it into Jin’s open mouth. “You’re gonna be enjoying this lovely meal with me, Jin! It’s just not fair for you to not get to taste your own delightful cooking too, after all! If I’m gonna be a total fatass, I’m taking you down with me, asshole.” After shoving the entire cake, handful by handful, into Jin’s desperately resisting mouth, Malos hoisted his bulk off of his boyfriend, delighted to see a slight bulge of a new tummy growing on the Flesh Eater’s abdomen. Jin shakily rose from the floor and automatically made his way towards the other end of the banquet table, pulling the nearest plates close to him and immediately digging in without comment. Malos snorted and sat back down in his seat, the wood creaking under his already sizable ass. “I’m not letting you upstage me in this one, though, Jin. You’re never gonna outgrow an Aegis.”

 

The two men feasted in silence, the only sounds the scraping of silverware on plates, the loud smacking of lips, and frantic chewing as the appetite enhancing powder caused their stomachs to scream for more and more food. Jin was mostly gaining weight in his lower half, his titanic thigh rolls and enormous ass cheeks seemingly swallowing his wooden dining chair whole, their flab overflowing and dangling over its edges easily. His gut, which was still large but not nearly as big as his beanbag-sized cheeks, oozed over his tree trunk thick thighs, seeping between them and forcing them further and further apart. The white-haired Blade’s clothes were ripping at the seams all over his growing form, as he stared across the table at his partner. Malos was a Blade of his word, to be sure, and was not letting Jin catch up to his growth at all. The massive man had surpassed a double chin and had moved to triple, his cheeks starting to droop into fat-laden jowls that ruined his once-menacing expressions. His neck was lost under a ring of fat that looked like a small tire around his face. Malos must have fully burst out of his bodysuit a while ago, his mountainous bulk no longer able to be contained within its confines. His breasts sagged down either side of his triple-decker gut, each one larger than any female Blade’s boobs in existence. His arms were covered with jiggling fat that drooped off his biceps, slapping heavily against his numerous side rolls and his moobs every time he brought food up to his fat mouth. His gut was split into three rolls, which cascaded down his front and pooled in his wide lap. The dark Aegis’s flabby gut was definitely his largest asset, even the topmost roll large enough for a Tirkin to sleep on comfortably after only a few hours of feasting. The middle and bottom rolls split where his belly button once was, the fat from the middle roll folding over it and making a crevasse that would only get larger and deeper the more he ate. His meaty love handles stuck out to the sides of his massive belly, the side rolls they formed impeding him from placing his pillowy arms straight down at his sides, forcing them to rest at an angle in the brief moments he wasn’t stuffing food into his greedy maw. While his lower half wasn’t nearly as large as Jin’s would be when he eventually caught up to his current weight, Malos’s lard-laden ass and dimpled thighs still overflowed out of the tiny wooden chair he was in. He actually registered in his mind that his enormous asscheeks were almost definitely stuck in said chair, which was creaking and groaning constantly under his prodigious behind. He suddenly had an idea to keep the chair inevitably breaking under him from being an issue and heaved himself onto his feet.

 

Malos waddled his way out of the mess hall, leaving Jin behind to continue eating on his own. The round Aegis had to shuffle his massive thighs past each other with each step, the inner rolls rubbing against each other no matter how far apart he kept his legs. The lowest roll of his stomach slapped against his knees as he wandered around the halls of the Monoceros, looking for any of the other Torna members. Unfortunately for Malos, the first one he found was the one he least wanted to see right now.

 

Mikhail, the blonde skirt-chasing scoundrel of their group, was leaning against a terminal, punching something in on the keyboard. Hearing the huffing breaths coming from a bit of a ways down the hall, he turned toward the noise's source and saw Malos’s morbidly obese form and couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement. “Whoaaaah, Malos?! What happened to you? You look like you must’ve ate an entire Ardun by yourself!” Malos groaned. “Mikhail, please. For once in your life, shut the fuck up.”

Mikhail looked playfully hurt by this statement, and cried back in response, “Boss, I’m hurt! I was just saying you look even bigger than last time I saw you! Why are you being so mean to m—GAAAH!!” The blonde man didn’t get to finish his sentence as Malos made his move, pushing his entire body against Mikhail’s and using his massive gut to pin the smaller man to the wall. He leaned his blubbery face in close to Mikhail’s and snarled, “I told you. To shut. The fuck. Up. Got it?” Mik nodded, his cheeks flushing bright pink as he felt Malos’s body enveloping his own. “Good. Now here’s what I need you to do. Go grab two benches from the storage room. The ones meant to sit four people. Bring them to the mess hall as fast as possible, or so help me, I will crush you like the worm you are, got it?”

 

By the time Malos managed to waddle his way back to the mess hall, the benches had already been brought in, and Jin was planted firmly in his. To Malos’s disgust, he realized that Jin had surpassed him in size while he was gone. The white-haired Blade’s enormous, shapeless ass was already starting to get close to overflowing the bench he was sat upon, with the fat of his massive thighs making his legs look roughly the size of a particularly old Puzzlewood tree from Gormott. Malos moved as fast as his overburdened legs could take him to his bench and began stuffing food into his face at double speed, chewing frantically to make sure his boyfriend didn’t end up larger than him. They kept feasting long into the night, even after the benches shattered beneath their respective bulks, leaving them to shift their nearly-immobile bodies onto the table so they could continue reaching the food with their fattened hands. Being Blades, and incredibly powerful ones at that, they retained movement in their arms for much longer than most, long past when they both were immobilized by their own corpulence. Their multitude of chins and neck rolls blended seamlessly into each other, their drooping jowls wobbling and smacking loudly every time they chewed, and their cheeks so fat that they started to impede their vision slightly. Their massive moobs pressed into their neck rolls, giving the impression that their faces were sinking slowly into their own fat. The only thing hindering their powerful Blade arms from accessing food readily was the fact that their fattened hands were starting to sink into their fat as well, their flabby pillows of arm fat starting to absorb them at the wrists. Their legs had already done the same to their feet, the dimpled lard of their calves already collapsing over their ankles about an hour ago, preventing either of them from being able to even waddle ever again. Even if their feet were visible, though, they wouldn’t be able to touch the ground. Even Malos’s comparably small ass was still a veritable mountain of adipose, lifting him off the ground by about half a foot already, each cheek the size of a couch and steadily spreading out under him. His massive gut spread even further, its numerous rolls spreading out underneath him as he strained his overencumbered arms to try and reach the dishes that were closer towards the middle of the banquet table. Jin’s gut was nowhere near as huge as Malos’s, but his massive ass cheeks pushed him about a foot and a half off the ground, making it just as difficult for his fat-covered arms to reach the tantalizing feast near the center of the table. Both Blades soon surrendered, wobbling futilely as they fell back, unable to move anymore due to the lard encasing their once-powerful bodies.

 

Malos was wheezing for breath, the strain of leaning forward even too much for him now. His boyfriend was in a similar state, face flushed crimson as he huffed to regain his composure. The Aegis breathlessly spoke to Jin from where they both sat with the table and its forbidden meal between them. “H-hey, Jin. I think… haah… we might need… huff… to ask some of th-the others… haah… for h—urp, help… finishing this.”

Jin tried to nod in agreement, but with his face and neck caked in fat the way they were, all he could manage was wobbling his face fat instead. “Yeah, th-that sounds… huff… like our b-best… haah, haah… option, Malos. Should I… hnngh… call for them?”

Malos only belched in response, which Jin decided to take as a “yes”, and he sent out a mental signal to Mikhail and Akhos to come to the banquet hall at once. As soon as they both arrived, to quell any sass or small talk from the two particularly condescending Flesh Eaters, Malos cast a quick Monado Enchant on them and gave them their new instructions: to feed himself and Jin the rest of the many plates of food on the table in silence. Akhos immediately moved to grab plates and began climbing his way up to where Jin’s face was being slowly buried in between his breasts and back rolls, while Mikhail did the same for Malos’s mountainous form.

 

The two men continued to grow and grow the more they were fed, their hands now long ago absorbed into their arms’ fat rolls. Malos’s titanic stomach overtook the table, crushing it underneath its enormous weight. Thankfully Mikhail and Akhos had already moved the remaining plates onto the guts of their two leaders, which had long since become large enough to be used as a table anyways. Jin, with five crab skewers in his fat mouth at once, realized that he could feel his rear pressing against something, but since his face was so sunken into his own fat, he couldn’t even begin to move his head to see. Even if he could turn his head, all he would have seen was his boulder-sized ass cheeks and his cascading rolls of back fat that led down to them. His gut, while smaller than his partner’s, was still enormous, and was slowly getting pushed under Malos’s much larger and more expansive stomach rolls. The Aegis currently was having an entire four-tiered cake shoved into his mouth piece by piece and loving every second, reveling in feeling every inch of his flab creeping further and further across the room. He felt more powerful than he had ever felt in his life as the Aegis.

 

After hours and hours of feeding and eating, finally, the two Torna leaders were finished with their feast, and sat in the aftermath of their massive gain. The only thing Jin could see past his flabby cheeks that took up most of his vision was the ceiling directly above him, as everything else he could see was his own soft pale flesh. His miniscule face was nestled deeply between a valley of his massive jowls, his flabby back rolls, and his cascading chins and neck fat. His breasts sat atop his enormous gut, each one larger than the table that he originally placed the feast on was before it was crushed under his and Malos’s combined weight. The rings of fat next to his breasts that were once his arms contained no signs of once being able to wield a katana expertly, now uselessly huge with his fingers and hands swallowed up beneath the rolls of adipose covering them. His gut was mostly eclipsed by Malos’s enormous stomach rolls, but Jin’s ass and thighs were his biggest asset by far, both of which were so massively obese that they spread across the room and pressed firmly against the metal walls and ceiling of the Monoceros’s mess hall, threatening to crush them under the weight of his titanic ass fat if he ate any more food.

 

Malos was in a similar state, though he had definitely surpassed Jin in sheer size. Not that it really made a difference when both Blades were huge enough to fill the entire mess hall between them. Malos’s blob of a body towered over Jin’s, his wobbling mountain of a gut covering almost every inch of his side of the room and squishing up against Jin’s comparably-smaller stomach rolls, waves of pillowy flab spreading all over. The Aegis’s core crystal was nestled between his two boulder-sized moobs, still perfectly present despite the sea of soft fat around it. Malos’s face, however, was much less visible, the once-sharp and intimidating features now buried between enormous flabby jowls, rippling chins and neck rolls, and hefty rolls of back fat that already threatened to crash over onto his face. The black haired man wiggled his fingers from where he could feel them buried under the incredible amounts of lard that coated his arms, chuckling deeply as he realized he could still move them despite his hands being absorbed into his arm fat hours ago. Suddenly, his core began glowing with a purple light that enveloped the fat rolls that were once his arms, which then flowed over to his partner, Jin, covering his entire corpulent form with a glow of dark energy.

Jin groaned as his body started wobbling, every fold and roll rippling and slapping against each other loudly. Suddenly, the light dissipated, and the white haired Blade felt… strange. He almost felt lighter, despite being thousands of pounds overweight now. He squinted his icy blue eyes, trying to peer past his overfed cheeks to look at his boyfriend, Malos. He could make out the pale blob that was now the Aegis’s body across from him, and he heard deep, almost maniacal laugher coming from the mound of flab, which sent the entire expanse of fat wobbling all over.  Malos spoke, his voice deepened significantly by all the fat caking his neck, and his words slurred from his incredibly flabby cheeks and pudgy lips making talking all the more difficult.

“Sho… Jhin… Hah doesh ih—hnnnnhhhh—feeuhl… tuh hahve—nnnnghhh—th’ pohwehsh… ohf an Aegish…?” Malos had to pause frequently to wheeze between words, the weight of his body making speaking and breathing at the same time a difficulty. Jin grunted in confusion. What did he mean, the powers of an Aegis? Malos laughed again, his drooping breasts wobbling like pendulums with each booming sound. “Youh… hahven'… fihgurhed ih—haaaaah… haaaahhh…-- ouht? Shtahnd… uhp… Jhin… an’ cohme… tuh meh…” The Aegis stopped talking, opting instead to gasp for breath, exhausted from exerting himself by just talking for a few seconds. Jin sat there in shock, wondering how the hell Malos expected him to stand up at his size. But then he remember that he did feel lighter somehow after Malos did whatever it was he just did, so the Blade attempted to move his presumed-useless legs.

 

Jin was surprised to find that his legs did in fact move, and he was easily able to shift his room-wide bulk into a standing position somehow. The resulting movement of his enormous rear end slapped both hills of lard into the wall of the dining hall, making the entire room echo with the sound of their bulk clapping against the cold metal. Jin hesitantly began shuffling his bloblike body towards his boyfriend’s immobile form, inching his carriage-sized legs past each other painfully slowly, the entire expanse of his body rippling with every slight move he made. His stomach, leg rolls, and ass cheeks all dragged along the floor, making the journey all the more difficult even with the strength of an Aegis making it possible for him to move at his incredible size. Eventually, Jin stood at the base of Mount Malos. He heard his boyfriend’s voice, smug as ever even with the weight affecting his speech, echoing from above him. “Haaaaah… ekshellehnt… Naoh… Ah—hnnnngh—neehd youh… tuh… clihmb uhp—hhhhhnnn—tuh mah… mouff…” Jin grunted in confirmation, moving his fat-swaddled arm rolls experimentally. They responded to his movements despite being disgustingly overfed, his hands still buried under their rolls, but it was enough for Jin to be able to climb the massive, wobbling expanse of Malos’s stomach rolls. It made for very slippery going, with one not-insignificantly smaller blob of a man climbing another one. Jin’s oversized arms and legs sank deep into Malos’s soft belly, the leader of New Torna feeling like he was going to fall into a crevasse of body folds and never be found again. Their fatty bodies slapped against each other loudly as Jin slowly ascended, every inch of their bodies shifting endlessly with waves of movement. Finally, Jin found his blob of a body perched atop Malos’s chest, gazing into his boyfriend’s cold gray eyes, surrounded by the sea of fat covering his entire face. Malos grinned, his eyes almost disappearing behind the creases of fat that formed when he did so. “Sho… naishe—haaaah—tuh shee yuh… agaihn… shekshy—hnnnngh—Reahdy tuh… fihnush thish?” The Aegis said, looking almost ecstatic that his plan had progressed this far, whatever it was. Jin nodded, or did as close to a nod as he could manage at his size. Malos explained through wheezing breaths that the true power of an Aegis granted him the ability to make whatever he wanted reality. He had given Jin some of that power to help make him bigger than any Titan or even the World Tree itself, so that he could fulfill his desire to destroy Alrest by crushing it beneath his own continental sized body. Jin agreed, lifting his sagging arm rolls and conjuring a flow of food to enter Malos’s waiting mouth. The Aegis moaned in satisfaction, readily gulping down anything that came near his greedy maw.

 

Rex and his companions were visiting his hometown of Fonsett Village to recuperate after their last encounter with New Torna. The Driver of the other Aegis, Mythra, sat on the overlook that he and his friends from the village had jumped off of into the Cloud Sea an uncountable number of times, watching the sun set as it bathed the clouds in a golden glow. Rex heard footsteps in the grass behind him and turned to see who was approaching. His eyes met those of the Gormotti Driver, Nia, who he’d been traveling with since the very beginning of his journey. The brown-haired boy grinned at her and patted the grass next to him. “Oh, hey there, Nia! C’mon, come sit and watch the sunset with me! Fonsett has the best sunsets you’ve ever seen!”

Nia scoffed, rolling her yellow eyes, her cat ears twitching with amusement at the boy’s enthusiasm. “I swear, Rex, yet such a kid sometimes! But, sure, why not? Sunsets ain’t really a thing I ever got tae enjoy much in my life.” She sat down next to him, crossing her legs beneath her and placing her hands on her knees.

Rex looked over at her, examining the look of quiet concern on the girl’s face as she stared at the clouds below. He piped up gently. “Nia, is something the matter? You look like somethin’s botherin’ you.” She closed her eyes and smiled wryly before responding. “Aye, nothin’ gets past ye, does it, Rex? I was thinkin’ about Malos and Jin.”

Rex tilted his head a little in confusion. “Jin and Malos? Why? Are you worried about ‘em or something? Do you miss ‘em?”

“Miss ‘em?! Pfft!” Nia snorted, “Of course I don’t miss ‘em, they were a right couple’a tossers. I was jus’ thinkin’ that somethin’ don’t seem right. I feel like they might be up tae nae good. I just feel somethin’… off in the air I guess? Somethin’… big?”

Rex clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times before replying. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing earlier. I feel something off in the air, too. Like the flow of ether energy in the air is… growing? Or maybe shrinking? I dunno. But maybe you might be right, and it’s something to do with them.”

Nia was about to theorize some more when she stopped, her ears perking as she looked off on the horizon. “Oi, Rex, d’ye see that there off in the distance?” She pointed to a large shape flying high above the Cloud Sea. Rex looked, squinting to see it better as it was so far away. “Is that… The Monoceros?!” He exclaimed in shock. Nia nodded. “Aye, that’s what I thought, too. Doesn’t it look a little off tae ye, though?”

Rex peered at the battle ship of New Torna and realized it looked… misshapen. The metal hull seemed to be bulging weirdly in places, and it also seemed like its flight path was sinking slowly, like something was weighing it down from within. “That’s odd. Why’s it look like that, do you reckon, Nia?” The girl shrugged. Rex looked back and noticed, now that it was a little closer, that some of the metal plating of the hill was coming apart at the seams, and something pale and soft was oozing out of the gaps. One panel fell off entirely, and in its place burst out a wobbling pillow of soft material, almost like a bubble of some kind. The two young Drivers looked at each other in confusing and worry as they watched the Monoceros fall apart piece by piece as it sunk closer and closer to the clouds below, revealing more and more of the strange, pale mass contained within the ship. “That definitely wasn’t there when I was still with Torna…” Nia murmured, “What the ‘Ell is goin’ on…”

 

Suddenly, the air was split with the shriek of breaking metal, as the entire remains of the Monoceros burst open, sending two indistinct shapes, one at least twenty times larger than the other, plummeting into the Cloud Sea. The smaller blob-shaped object landed on top of the much larger one with a resounding meaty slap, sending rippling shockwaves all over its form. The enormous wobbling mass floated suspended in the clouds, while Nia and Rex tried to figure out what it was. That was when they realized the shape was growing larger at an alarming rate. Rex looked at Nia, his eyes panicked. “Uh, Nia? We should probably evacuate everyone in Fonsett to safety. Whatever that thing is, it’s getting bigger by the second!” Nia nodded and the two ran off to the village to gather everyone together.

 

Jin sat on top of his boyfriend’s uncountable chins and neck rolls, thrilling in the feeling of his own massive expanse of rolls sinking into the even softer and ever-growing fat of the Aegis himself. One wouldn’t even be able to tell the acres of soft, pale flab were a Blade unless they got very, very close. Malos was completely unrecognizable, any semblance of a humanoid form long buried beneath tons upon tons of adipose. His gigantic mountain of stomach rolls spread for miles and miles across the Cloud Sea, blanketing the thick, puffy clouds with even thicker, softer, heavier fat rolls. Malos’s monumentally sized ass cheeks, each one now bigger than any inhabitable Titan, stretched out behind him for almost as far as his incredible gut did. The mounds of adipose that were once his legs were ringed with soft, dimpled fat rolls, completely unrecognizable as anything that once resembled a leg. His piles of pudgy love handles had reached the hundreds now, looking like a stack of floppy pancakes leading up to his enormous chest. Malos’s breasts were astonishingly huge, large enough to crush the entirety of Alba Cavanich under just one of them easily, each one weighing at least over ten tons. His face was barely visible anymore, between the boulder-sized jowls drooping down the sides of his face and impeding his vision greatly, his rings of hundreds of flabby, wobbling chins and neck rolls, and the cascade of back fat that was crashing down on his face from above. The Aegis’s mouth was constantly occupied with an endless deluge of fattening foods conjured up by Jin’s new powers, Malos’s mouth constantly stretched to its limits by the sheer amount of dishes crammed between his overfed cheeks,. He had no time to talk anymore, not when he was eating constantly to grow larger and larger and eventually crush all of Alrest beneath his massive blob of a body, but then again, why would he ever want to waste time talking? Becoming the largest Blade in all of Alrest was truly a calling worthy of the Master Blade himself.

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

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“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed?  A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine Being Sirius’s Daughter (Part Four)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

-The last day of Summer break you asked Remus if it was okay that you went to Hogwarts, which he at first wasn’t sure if he wanted to agree to, but he could see in your eyes that you weren’t going to let it go.

-When you arrived he thought you were going to go straight to Dumbledore’s office, so imagine his surprise when he saw you start towards the dungeons. He decided to go to Dumbledore’s office, knowing that he was not wanted where you were going.

-You lightly knocked on Snape’s office door, to which his nasally, groaning tone leaked through the wooden door, “Come in.”

-When he saw it was you, he looked disappointed, “Miss Black, I was unaware the moon would be full tonight.”

“It’s not, I just wanted to come talk.”

“About? If it is regards to the grade the Weasley boys received last term, it is too late to change.”

“No, it is about him.” Snape looked away, he never imagined the daughter of one of his bullies would ever come to discuss the Potter boy with him.

“My father tells me that you used to be close with my Aunt Lily, that was until she started dating Uncle Prong.” You stated, not revealing the real reason, since you were sure that Snape regretted calling Lily a mudblood, “Harry is starting school tomorrow.”

“I am aware.” Snape hissed

“Are you okay?” You asked, as he lifted his head towards you again, “I mean this is the son of the woman you love.”

“Yes, and you are the child of the man who killed them. Now your spineless father might not have been the one holding the wand that stopped Lily’s heart, but he might as well have.” He hissed, advancing towards you, “You want to know why I have never liked you Miss Black, it isn’t because of how your father treated me, or how I was the test subject for your uncle Prong, or that I lost your aunt Lily. Oh no foolish girl it is because you act just like your father, reckless, pompous, ignorant... I am shocked your friends haven’t figured out you will probably turn on them just as fast as your father did. I can’t stand the sight of you because when I look at you, I see the man who turned on the Potter’s, who told the Dark Lord exactly where they were to kill them.” Snape was in your face now, his hook nose close to yours as he hissed, “Now get out.”

-You left immediately, tears brimming your eyes as you hurried towards Dumbledore’s office. When you got there Remus looked towards you immediately, and saw the sorrow in your eyes. His long legs carried him quickly towards you, before engulfing you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. Your voice barely auditable as you muttered, “I would like to drop Potions.”

-Later that night you went to Hagrid’s, figuring he wouldn’t be there, cause it was dinner time for a certain three headed dog that Hagrid had been hiding in the forest for several years. You loved Fluffy, and normally when Hagrid would go to feed him you would tag along. So when you opened the door to see Hagrid standing at the fire you couldn’t help but raise some questions.

-He told you the bare minimum, he wasn’t able to reveal much to you, at the request of Dumbledore. But he told you that Fluffy was guarding something for Dumbledore, and that no matter what, you couldn’t bring up the fact that you knew about Fluffy, or the music. You agreed.

-The day you were supposed to get on the train, you woke up early and made Remus breakfast. Eggs Benedict, sausage, bacon, and strawberries lined the kitchen table as you pours some orange juice into the clear glass cups, the pot of coffee brewing. You knew that today was going to be hard, since Remus never liked saying goodbye to you, but today was going to be extra difficult, for both of you.

-While you cooked you had no idea how you would react to seeing the boy you were supposed to grow up with. The last time you had seen Harry was Halloween in 1981, when you were two. You also wondered how Remus would react, I mean this was the boy that should have also been calling him Uncle Mooney, the son of his best friends who were violently taken from the world too young. You couldn’t imagine the pain he would feel.

-When he awoke, and trudged into the kitchen he yawned, “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Excited to start your third year?” He joked as you turned your head slightly, “Course I am.”

“Do you remember what classes you chose?” He joked, already knowing that when you filled out the list you made sure to pick classes that you knew the Weasley would take.

“Yes Uncle Mooney.” You smiled, before taking his empty plate and serving up the freshly cooked breakfast.

-You both ate in silence, before Remus cleared his throat, “Have you heard from your dad in a while?”

“Not since June.” You muttered, “You?”

“No, he hasn’t written me in a while Love.”

-When you were finished you loaded the dishes into the sink, ready to clean them, however Remus stopped you, “I’ll do those later my Love, do you have your trunk packed?”

“Course I do, triple checked it last night.” You smiled as you looked towards him, ready to face the world.

“Good, better grab it then, would hate for you to be late, cause than who will entertain the boys?”

“Lee can handle it, I promise.”

“sure he can.”

- When you and Remus arrived on the platform you immediately looked around for Lee, Fred, and George, however you saw none of them. You turned towards Remus, ready to tell him you would stay with him and wait, but when you turned you saw he was scanning the platform as well. You knew it wasn’t for your friends however.

-When you finally caught sight of the Twins they had just run through the barrier, and went racing towards you, the two leaving their carts to hug you. However before you could say a word you saw a face you hadn’t seen in almost 10 years. His hair was shaggy, and a dark, chocolate brown, his skin was fair, his body was engulfed in clothes clearly too large for him, which caused him to look as though he was lean and tall. He was looking around the platform in wonder, a snow owl sitting atop his trunk, as his broken frames hung from his nose. You could see the shimmer of his green eyes, your Aunt’s eyes, but if it wasn’t for those eyes you would have sworn you were looking at the face of your Uncle Prongs.

-Your eyes immediately watered, but that didn’t stop you from turning to look at your Uncle Mooney, his own eyes transfixed on him, as a tear freely fell down his face. You broke away from the twins without a word, and hugged Remus, who was looking at Harry Potter as though he was an old friend.

-When Remus got to the car, he shut the door, and immediately broke down. The tears flowing like a river as he beat the steering wheel and screamed. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Harry didn’t get to have his parents, it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t grow up with you, it wasn’t fair that he was dressed in hand-me-down clothes and his glasses were broken, it wasn’t fair that he looked like he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in 10 years, It wasn’t fair that Dumbledore didn’t just give Harry to him like he had you. It wasn’t fair that he lost his best friends, it wasn’t fair that his best friend killed them, it wasn’t fair… None of it was fair. As Remus screamed into the empty void of the car his tears were falling faster and faster at the thought of how unfair life had been for both Harry Potter and [Y/N] Black. 

-When he finally drove home, he dragged his feet into the eerily quiet cabin, the room was dark, and cold. He slowly advanced towards the armchair and sunk into it, and let his thoughts consume him.

-When you boarded the train you couldn’t find Lee, so you and Fred snagged an empty booth while George went to find him. As soon as the door was closed though Fred looked at you, “Why do you look spooked?”

“Huh?” You looked towards him

“Well you took one look at that kid who went through the barrier with us, and your whole demeanor changed, and now you just look sad.”

“Remember when Uncle Remus was telling us stories last summer about my dad, and Uncle James?”

“Yeah, they both were bloody brilliant.” Fred smiled as you looked into his eyes, noticing as well the smallest smudge of dirt on his nose, “Well that was my Uncle Jame’s son. We haven’t seen him since he was 1, and honestly I doubt he even remembers us. Seeing him was like looking at my Uncle James again.”

-Later when George returned he sat down in amazement, “Lee is hanging out with the cool kids, but you’re never gonna guess what Ronny just told me?”

“What?” Fred replied, but you already had a feeling what the news was gonna be.

“That kid that ran into the barrier after us, that’s Harry Potter, the Harry Potter.”

“Wicked.” Fred smiled, however his eyes then grew large as he looked towards you, your head turned towards the window.

-When you were all getting off, Fred and George looked over at Lee and stuck their tongues out at him, causing you to smile slightly.

-At the feast Lee slid into the spot next to George, which of course led to a series of teasing, “Oh look who decided to join the big boys again?” George teased

“Who are you again, Levi, Jason, Kevin?” Fred taunted

“Oh what Lee, did the girls turn you down?” You asked with a smile as Lee rolled his eyes, expecting nothing less then that from the group of you.

“Haha very funny guys, and for your information [Y/N], Angelina actually agreed to go to Hogsmade with me on our first trip.”

-The boys immediately started to chatter about the prospect of Lee making moves on Angelina, but your attention was pulled away by the doors of the great hall swinging open. As always a hoard of 11 year olds filed into the great hall, McGonagall leading them towards the hat that would decide their house. As the pack pasted your eyes were searching for one little boy, but instead you found Ron, who wasted no time waving at you and the boys as he passed. Waving back though you saw the boy beside him, and watched as he continued to walk away, as you did, you caught the eyes of Snape, his own eyes glued to the boy whose face would remind him of yet another one of his childhood tormentors.

-As they called the children one by one you couldn’t help but chuckle at Fred and George’s banter, “Imagine if Ronnie gets put in Slytherin, Mum would have a heart attack.”

“I don’t think he would ever be cut out for Slytherin, honestly with how much he eats, he will probably be a Hufflepuff, that way he is closer to the kitchen.”

-Before you could add your two cents into the topic, you heard his name, “Ronald Weasley.”

You watched the small ginger boy approaching the stool, and as he went to sit down you shot him a reassuring smile, knowing there was only house where the Weasley Family belonged. The hat didn’t even touch his ginger hairs before it screamed out, “Gryffindor!”, causing your whole friend group to erupt into cheers, as George and Lee scooted over to make room for the newest lion.

-After a few more minutes you heard his name, a hush overtook the hall as some whispered, “The Harry Potter?”

-As he approached the stool, Dumbledore’s eyes found yours, your frame leaning forward as you waited for the hat to speak, praying he would go anywhere but Slytherin. You had no idea that Dumbledore was even watching how you reacted, knowing that you wanted nothing more then for him to be in Gryffindor, that way you could finally get to know the boy whom was supposed to practically be your cousin.

-Fred’s hand slipped to your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, he was the only one who knew how much the hat’s words would affect you. He was praying that he got gryffindor, that way it was easier for you to befriend him.

-When the hat screamed out Gryffindor, you and the boys all rose to your feet, along with the rest of the table, and cheered. Your cheer was by far the loudest. The small boy made his way towards you, and plopped right next to you, across from Ron, and the guys leaning around you to clap him on the shoulder.

-Once the sorting was over, and the food had appeared you all began introducing yourselves to the first years. George of course lead the introductions, “So this is Lee, the charmer who has the loudest voice, I’m George, The handsome twin, this is Fred, the slightly less handsome twin, and that’s [Y/N], she is basically our mum.”

“Mum would be pissed if she heard that.” Ron replied, as he stuffed his mouth with mashed potatoes, causing you to smile, “No Ronnie, she would absolutely agree.”

-You couldn’t help but look at Harry out of the corner of your eye as you all chattered at the feast table.

-That night when Percy took all the first years to the common room, you stayed at the table with the boys, just chatting and catching up. That was until Professor Dumbledore appeared behind George and Lee, his eyes on you as you looked up from Lee’s story and made eye contact with the headmaster. “Miss Black, a word?”

“Course headmaster.” You replied, quickly swinging out of the table before watching him go back down the aisle towards the facility table, your motions matching his in the opposite aisle until you both met at the end, without even a look he made his way towards the hidden chamber hidden underneath the Great Hall, the floor littered in the many treasures of Hogwarts, fully carpeted, the fire roaring as McGonagall slowly rose from the chair placed infront of the fire.

“Minerva, Albus, what if the meaning of this?” You asked, eyebrow arched as Dumbledore took a soft breath, “Your uncle informed me your first year that you were in corespondences with your father.”

“Firstly, the people I am in contact with is no importance to you, and secondly, why are you choosing now to make this a topic of conversation?”

-He was quiet for a second, his long finger going to his half moon spectacles to push them farther up his crooked nose, before he turned his head to look at McGonagall. However just by the expression on both of their faces you knew.

“You think I am going to tell him about Harry...” you whispered.

“We are just concerned for the boy [Y/N]. You have seen the state of the boy, and I have seen his family, they are horrid muggles. We don’t want him to deal with a harder life then he already has, and many death eaters would love to...” McGonagall started, however you were quick to cut her off.

“Then you shouldn’t have ever let him go to them, you should have sent him straight to us, Remus was one of the Potter’s best friends, and in the event of my father being wrongly accused...”

“James and Lily stated they didn’t want to send him to Mooney!” Dumbledore’s voice was raised as your eyes grew in frustration, “They specifically stated if something were to happen to them, if Harry was in need of rehoming... he was to go to either your father, or his Aunt Petunia. Seeing how your father was unable to care for him, we respected the Potter’s wishes and sent him to live with Lily’s sister.”

“Yet he was good enough to raise me?” You snapped.

“It was what your father would have wan...”

“What my father wanted.” You interrupted him with a chuckle, “What my father wanted was to raise his own daughter, for someone to defend him when he was framed for murdering his friends, yet None of you saved him from Azkaban. So do not tell me about what my father wanted Albus.”

-A pause lingered in the air after your words slipped from your lips, your blood boiling as you hissed, “I didn’t plan on telling my father a word anyway, so if you will excuse me, I would like to go back to my common room?”

“You are dismissed Miss Black.” Dumbledore’s voice was soft as you stormed from the hidden room and into the Great Hall, not even stopping to talk to the boys, who all turned to see you leave when they saw Fred perk up.

-When the grand doors slammed behind you, Lee mumbled, “What do you think they said to piss her off so badly?”

-He got no reply, because as soon as the door slammed both Weasley boys were up, and hurrying towards the door themselves, hoping you hadn’t gotten too far.

-They saw you on the stairs, you were almost to the Fat Lady when George called out, “[Y/N]!” This caused you to stop your ascension up the stairs, your hand gripping the railing as they also stopped, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just.... I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit, we know when you’re lying [Y/N].” Fred replied as you gave a dry chuckle, “Nothing gets past you two does it?”

“Nope, we figured after all this time you would have figured that out by now.” George replied, as you slowly turned, your eyes red and glassy as the tears threatened to fall, causing George and Fred to Easter no time bolting up the stairs, and almost tackling you onto the steps as they hugged you.

-They sat in the common room with you, they got the small table you all always sat at and pulled out the Wizard Chess board. George looked at you and smiled, “Ready to lose Black?”

“In your dreams Georgie.” You forced a smile, as Fred looked between the two of you, a smile on his face as you moved your pawn to D4.

-Each twin took a turn playing you, and acted baffled when you won. However you knew they were letting you win, cause when it came to games the Weasley Twin sometimes went for blood.

-After you played both twins once, you looked at them, “So now you and George are gonna destroy each other.”

“Bullshit, I want a rematch.” George barked, playfully pushing Fred from the seat as you smiled, Fred dramatically fell out of the chair and pretended to scoff at his brother as he took the observer’s spot.

-After round 2 against Fred, the younger Weasley, and Harry had joined the table, each standing on a side of George as you easily took Fred’s king. “You are getting sloppy.” Ron voiced.

“You think you can do better Ronald?” Fred asked, eyebrow raised, “You try.”

“Is that okay?” Ron asked you, a blush spreading across his cheeks as you grinned, “Course Ronnie, Fred, Move.”

-Ron won against you, a grin on his face as his knight claimed victory against your king. “You definitely cheated.” You joked

-Ron looked at Harry, “Harry, you wanna try? I promise playing against [Y/N] is easy.”

“I haven’t a clue how to play.” He whispered, as you joked, “It’s okay, I’ll go easy on you.”

-When Harry took the seat across from you, you turned the board around, making it so that he was allowed to make the first move. “You just gotta tell them where you want them to go.”

-The whole time you played, you were giving tips to him, along with the three ginger boys, however whenever Harry had a question, he asked you.

-Harry won the first game, to which he smiled wide, “I won?”

“Looks that way, now one of them have to try to beat you.” You smiled, looking to Fred, “Wanna try knocking him out Freddie?”

“Alright, but I’m not gonna go easy on him just cause he is a first time player.” Fred replied as you switched spots. However Harry looked over to you, “think you could... maybe...”

-He didn’t even have to finish the question, your feet guiding you to the small space between his seat and the wall, your arms crossed as you watched, offering help to him whenever he asked.

-He won against all of the Weasleys, the last one he played was George, who replied, “You know it is no far that it was 2 against 1.”

“And he’s never played before, we did the same thing when Charlie taught Ginny how to play when she was 5.”Ron replied, as George crossed his arms, “Yes but Charlie didn’t have our strategies memorized like [Y/N].”

“You’re just pouting because a first timer beat you, don’t worry Georgie, your ego will bounce back.” You smiled.

-After Harry beat George, the two younger boys excused themselves to their corridors, while George stretched and muttered something about going to his trunk quickly to get the prank journal. When he left the table Fred looked at you, “So your dad was best friends with the Potters?”

“Yeah, he was.” You whispered, “They basically were family to my dad, like I called his parents my grandparents. Uncle Remus told me that James was the first person other than his mum to see me, and that when I was a baby I adored him, I would cry whenever him or Aunt Lily left the room. I still have pictures too from their wedding in my room, not a day goes by that I don’t think about them.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” His hand stretched towards your hand, as it slowly cupped around yours.

“I figured it wasn’t important.” You lied. Truth was you didn’t want him to put it together, you were scared that you would lose all of them if they knew your dad was in Azkaban, for betraying the Potter’s.

-Fred’s hand didn’t leave yours, even when George returned to discuss all the pranks they had plotted without you. It felt comfortable, and while you and Fred thought nothing of it, George definitely noticed.

-When you all finally went your separate ways to go to bed, George bumped his twin on the shoulder, “So are we gonna talk about that?”

“About what?”

“About what, this boy tells me about what, as though him and [Y/N] haven’t been holding hands for over an hour.” George muttered, as Fred smiled, “Honestly George, it’s not a big deal.”

“Fred, just ask her to Hogsmeades already.” He instructed, “That way I can stop watching you try to suppress your feelings towards her.”

-When the boys went to Potions that morning, they were so excited that their first class was with you. However their smiles fell when you weren’t there at your normal table. The next class they had was Care of Magical Creatures, and when they saw you there, George was the first to state, “You missed Potions?”

“Sorry, I must have forgotten to tell you, I... Ummm dropped potions. I have a private tutoring lesson now for it with Dumbledore.” You replied.

-Both boys went up to McGonagall later that day, and asked if she could ask Dumbledore if they could join you. When she asked, his smile grew, “Of course they can join.”

-Dumbledore apologized for his outburst when you went to his office for the potion lesson, to which you stated, “All is forgiven.”

-Your father still hadn’t written you.... which was concerning. However it didn’t stop you from writing to him daily.

-You wrote to Remus about what Albus said to you, to which he replied by writing Albus a long letter explaining that if he ever did that again, he would be going to Hogwarts directly to correct the interaction.

-A week after classes started, Fred walked up beside you, “Hey [Y/N]?”

“Yes Freddie?”

“You know how we are going to be going to Hogsmeade at the end of the month?”

“You mean we aren’t sneaking into Hogsmeade for once in the dead of night and going legitimately now, when everything is open?” You replied with a grin, as you reflected on all the times you used the Marauders Map to sneak into the village, hoping Charlie, and Percy never saw you.

“Yeah, well I was wondering if you would wanna go with me?”

“I thought we were all going together? I mean Lee is going with Angelina, but I assumed you, George and I were...”

“Nevermind, it was a stupid question...” he stated, “I mean I should have just assumed you were going with us.”

-George and Lee were so proud of Fred for asking you on proper date finally, however when they saw how upset he looked they questioned his appearance, “She ummm didn’t realize I was asking her on a date.” Fred replied, causing both boys to fall silent.

-Dumbledore loved having the three of you, and found that soon his favorite part of the day was your class. Some days it felt as though you all exchanged stories more than learned anything.

-You spent at least one night a week at Hagrid’s hut discussing life over tea. It was here that he told you about his plan to make Harry a scrapbook of pictures of his family. You gladly agreed to help.

-Your first school trip to Hogsmeade was a ball, you three started off at Three Broomsticks, and drank three large mugs of butter beer each. Fred was insistent on paying for yours, and once you finally agreed George joked, “You paying for mine too?”

-You then looked at Fred with a grin, “It’s only fair.”

-After The Three Broomsticks you three ventured to Honeydukes, where you all gawked at the endless rows of sweets.

-Before you left you bought 5 cauldron cakes, along with 10 chocolate frogs and a tin of Sugared Butterfly Wings.

-You ended the trip at Zonko’s, where Fred and George gawked over everything in the store. Both boys touching everything and turning it in their hands, as they observed the products. While they were doing that you had managed to wander away slightly, and bought two nose biting tea cups. Placing them into your bag you walked back over to the boys, who were debating quite loudly who to prank with the dungbombs.

-Upon getting back to Hogwarts you gave two of the five cauldron cakes to Ron and Harry, then you tossed the tin to Harry, and looked at Ron, “Now don’t go eating these all in one night.” You instructed before reaching into your bag and pulling out the ten chocolate frogs. The boys both look at you with sheer joy, and thanked you for the gifts.

-You also gave the twins their cauldron cakes, and the tea cups, both looked at the off white porcelain and muttered, “Wicked.”

-That night Fred sat next to you at dinner, and as soon as Lee sat down you asked, “Soooooo, how’d it go with Angelina?”

“She didnt show, she was supposed to meet me at the tea shop. So I just came back here.”

“Why didn’t you come find us, we told you we would be at the Three Broomsticks before we separated?” George asked

“I didn’t want to drag you guys down. How was it though?” He asked, his frown turning up a bit as George went into a monologue about the trip, leaving you and Fred to just listen as you slowly devoured the food on your plates.

-That night when you were turning in for the night you looked towards Angelina’s four poster, “So why did you do it?”

“Do what?” She asked confused

“Agree to go on a date with Lee Jordan, but instead you stood him up? Let me guess, you and Katie thought it would be a better idea to go to the hair salon and get your hair done?”

“Last I checked what I did was none of your business [Y/N].”

“It is when you hurt my best friend’s feelings, so this is how it is going to go, you are going to apologize to him before your first class, you are going to be honest with him about your feelings and than you are going to make it up to him by actually going with all of us next time. And if you don’t, I’ll hex your broom, and make your hair change colors, do I make myself clear?” Your tone was menacing, and you knew Angelina was aware that you were the brightest witch of your year.

-She agreed to the terms, and that morning at breakfast Lee sat down smiling, “So Angelina apologized, and you’re never gonna guess why she stood me up?”

“Why?” Fred asked, before shoving a fork full of eggs into his mouth.

“Turns out she was on a date with Oliver.”

-When the boys told you that Harry was on the Quidditch team you were ecstatic.

-However that first game you were nervous for him, and nearly lost your mind when he crashed onto the pitch. However as soon as he spit up the snitch you cheered the loudest.

-When the broom started to jerk around in the air, you were trying to see who could have been muttering a hex on it, as you muttered a counter curse. That’s when you saw Snape mouthing something, but you knew Snape’s behaviors well enough to know he would never try to charm Harry’s broom.

-The next trip to Hogsmeade Angelina joined, as promised, and actually had a lot of fun. After when you were all walking back you bummed her arm lightly, “Thanks for that by the way.”

“No problem, maybe Oliver will want to come to the next one, then we can have a double date kinda.”

“How?”

“You and Fred....”

“Fred and I aren’t dating.” You stated softly, “We’re just friends.”

“This coming from the girl who shared a butter beer with him, and who he gave his jacket to when you said you were cold.” She laughed, “I don’t know about you, but that seems an awful lot like you two are dating.”

-That night you and Harry actually stayed up late talking, you never brought up anything about your lives crossing, but you just talked. It was a common occurrence.

-Yes he twins were jealous of Harry at one point, but that was just because after every quidditch match you would go congratulate him first. However when you would go congratulate them you would wrap them both into tight hugs, and suggest going to Three Broomsticks to celebrate with Fire Whiskey.

-On the night of Halloween when you were all sent back to the common rooms you were frantically looking around for Ron and Harry, your heart racing as each second ticked by. When you finally saw the two dirty boys and the mousy brown haired mess of curls you went rushing over to Harry and engulfed him in a hug, “Don’t scare me like that again you two.”

-After that day, Hermoine joined your group, which you liked, because you knew how beneficial it was for the Twins and Lee to have a girl in their friend group.

-She loved getting to know you, because you challenged her intelligence daily.

-Fred never brought up you both going to Hogsmeade together again.

-One night while you were helping Fred with his transfiguration homework, you both feel asleep on the love seat. Harry woke you both up the next morning before going to his first class.

-As always you finished the term with the top grades in your class, and for once the Twins got higher than a A in potions.

-You drew names for secret Santa that year, however one of you kept drawing your own names, so finally after drawing names 20 times, you finally got your person, who happened to be George.

-The twins begged you to stay at Hogwarts that year, knowing that you couldn’t invite him to have Christmas at your house. As much as you wanted to stay though you told him you had to go home. You needed to see your Uncle, and get pictures for Hagrid’s secret project.

-You sat alone on the train ride back, and watched the countryside whiz by.

-Remus was so excited when he saw you get off the train, and you wasted no time running up to him to give him a hug.

-Over the holiday, you had made arrangements to stay at Hogwarts with Hagrid for the full moon. You were not allowed to go to the actual castle because you didn’t want the boys finding out why you were there.

-On the car ride home, you were informing him of Hagrid’s plan, and he quickly agreed to donate a few photographs to the cause.

-As soon as you got home you started going through the old photo box, Remus was insistent however that no pictures of the other Marauders or the first Order would be included. However he thought it was fine that you included a photo from James and Lily’s wedding, where they were holding you while dancing.

- Remus had told Hagrid you would both be attending Christmas dinner at his house, meaning you were going to be at Hogwarts. You also knew that Harry and Ron might stop in, since Hagrid and Harry had gotten so close.

-As soon as you got to Hagrid’s, you saw all the boys playing in the snow through the window. Hagrid poured your tea and stated, “They all came to wish me a merry Christmas, figured I let them play in the snow with Fang for a bit. I must say though, those two twins haven’t been the same since you left [Y/N].”

“I figured they would have been overjoyed that there was no parental figure there anymore to harp on them.” You joked before sitting down next to your father, and sipping your tea.

-Hagrid got teary eyed looking over the pictures you and Remus had picked out. However he tried to cover it, “it feels like only yesterday you were little like this [Y/N], now look at you, all grown up, getting the highest marks of the grade.”

-He got you a biker jacket for Christmas, it was all black, and had little studs in it. “Your father had one just like it when he was here, I figured it was only fair you had one too.”

-Remus got you a cassette player, and a few of the classics. When you opened it your mouth gaped open, “I love it.”

“I figured you would, it was something your father brought back with him one summer after staying with Uncle James, he took it everywhere with him and blared all this muggle music.” Remus smiled, as you popped in a tape and pressed play, as Queen started blasting out of the speaker.

-“There’s one more present for ya too, Dumbledore delivered it this morning. I guess Molly sent all the boys presents here, along with one for you.” Hagrid pulled the familiar brown wrapped present out from under his little tree beside the couch. A cute little golden bow was stuck on the top of it. As you unwrapped it you expected to see just the sweater, however on top of it laid a enevelope, with your name beautifully written across the front. As you carefully opened it, you couldn’t help but listen to Remus’s laughter as he watched Harry playing with the Weasleys in the snow, “It appears as though one of your boys just tackled Harry into the snow.”

-You knew that just seeing Harry from afar was going to give Remus so much joy. You turned and whispered, “Of course he would.”

-Inside the enevelope was a card, on the front you noticed it had hand drawn flowers littered all over, with your name once again printed on the front in the same handwriting. Inside the letter small specks of glitter started to float out, and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw her message, “Hope your Christmas is magical.”

-Your sweater that year was a dark forest green and the letter was in a light grey, as though you were a Slytherin. You slipped it on immediately.

-You had stayed late at the hut, sipping tea and laughing. Occasionally you had peaked out the window to watch the boys but as soon as the sun started to set they had all retreated to the castle, and Fang came back to the hut. As soon as Fang saw you, he leapt onto the couch and rested his head on your lap, his eyes immediately shutting as you pet him. Soon he was fast asleep.

-However in less than an hour there was a knocking on the door, which Hagrid answered, expecting that the other professors had come to join you all for dinner, however when he opened it, he was greeted by two tall, slightly muscular, ginger boys with red cheeks, and huge smiles. “Where is she?” They both stated at the same time.

“Where’s who?” Hagrid was blocking the doorway, so neither saw you turn on the couch to look back at the back of Hagrid’s frame.

“[Y/N].” They both stated, before pushing past him and into the hut. As soon as they saw you looking at them, they both lifted their arms and cheered loud enough to wake up Fang, before running around either side of the couch and engulfing you in a hug. Remus chuckling as Hagrid whispered, “Howd they know?”

“Call it best friend intuition.” Remus replied, knowing fully well that they probably saw your name on the map.

-You also knew that’s how they knew you were here.

-You all moved to the floor, Fang curled up in his bed as you were seated between the two gingers, each of you joking amongst yourselves as Remus watched. As soon as you saw Hagrid put the apron on though you were standing up, and hurrying over to help, grabbing your own apron to throw on as you helped him extract the food from the oven and stove. the boys had also gotten up to help but Remus stopped them, “Don’t even try boys, they have a system on doing this.”

-After dinner you and the boys went outside to play in the falling snow, both boys wasting no time throwing snow at you, before tackling you into the cold. As soon as the snowball fight started both boys picked you up at some point, and threw you over their shoulder as they ran through the snow. Laughter filling the air as you all raced around in the dark snowfall, hurling small bulger sized balls of snow and ice at one another.

-As you all played in the snow, Remus and Hagrid sat inside the hut and talked, at some point Hagrid looked at Remus, “Thank you by the way.”

“For what?”

“The pictures, I know that these were probably hard for you to part with.”

-After two hours outside the Weasley Twins and you were laying in the snow, watching the snow float onto your faces, your bodies slowly sinking into the frozen water flakes. Remus opened the door and looked out into the darkness, watching the snow softly land on the three of you before calling out, “It’s time to go home Love.”

-This caused you to quickly sit up, the boys slowly mimicking your action as you looked to either of them, “Well boys, it’s been entertaining.”

“Do you think Remus will let you stay?” George whispered as you looked towards him, you smile falling slightly as you replied, “Sadly no boys, but don’t worry, I’ll be back before know it.”

-Hugging the boys goodbye was harder then you expected, and before heading into the hut you watched both of them ascend up the stairway towards the castle. Once inside you and Remus quickly used the floo powder system to return to the cabin. 

-Two days later you returned to the hut, and spent the night with Hagrid and Fang. Those days you were there Fred and George never opened the map, so they had no idea you had returned the castle.

-While you were there you and Hagrid made a handful of bake goods, and over a dozen cups of tea.

-When you got on the train, it was really strange not sitting with Fred and George, however Lee saved you a seat in the booth with him, Angelina, Katie, Oliver and Lavender Brown.

-When you got to the platform, you heard your name loudly exclaimed, turning you saw the red headed, younger twin race towards you, arms wide open as you opened your own, and collided with you. His tighting squeeze engulfing you as Lee chuckled, “Goodness I wish you greeted me like that George.”

“I absolutely do, you just never notice when I do.” George replied, as you rolled your eyes.

“Speaking of your better half, where is he?” You rebuttaled

“Back at the common room, he claimed that he didn’t feel well.” His fingers made the quotation hand gestures when he said didn’t feel well.

-When you were in the common room you saw Harry in his H sweater, and couldn’t help but smile, “So you are part of the tradition now too?”

- That night You, and the three boys sat around the fireplace, the soft glow of the flames highlighting Fred and George’s faces as you and Lee sat facing them, each of you held boxes on your lap as you each joked and discussed your holidays. Finally it was Lee who spoke up, “Well I’ll go first, I got Fred.”

-As he handed the box to Fred you couldn’t help but chuckle, since Lee had already told you what he had put in the box. Fred’s eyes shifted between the two of you as he slowly started tearing the paper, “It’s not a dungbomb that’s about to go off is it?”

“No, besides if it were, why would we all be sitting around you?” Lee answered.

-Inside was a self help book on maintaining healthy, romantic relationships, he read it and looked horrified, and then asked, “Do you think I’m gonna be a shitty boyfriend?”

“No mate, just figured you would just need all the help you can get.”

-You went next, “Well I got George. However I have to apologize in advance, cause I didn’t get you a relationship self help book, but if you need to I am sure Fred will let you burrow his.”

-When George opened his box, he revealed a maroon and golden scarf, with a matching hat. On top of the hat was a small pompon. He looked to you as you replied, “Your mum taught me how to knit last summer.”

-He immediately put it on.

-Fred went next, and tossed the box to Lee, “Merry Christmas mate.”

Inside the box was a tiny cube, which was painted a metallic orange color. There was no opening to it, or any other indications of what it actually was. However Fred was beaming with pride as Lee turned it in his hands, and finally he asked, “What is it?”

“A prototype, George and I cooked it up while you were gone. It is the first prototype of a product we would like to create for our joke shop, and there will be a secret trigger word which will cause it to multiple and release a foul smelling gas.”

“Fred accidentally set it off though when he was wrapping it though so sadly it won’t work, but it took Flich a whole week to get the stink out of the common room.” George added as you looked at the product in Lee’s hand.

“What if instead it was a wind up toy, that way you couldn’t accidentally set it off.” You suggested, as both Fred and George looked at you, the wheels in their head spinning as they processed your suggestion.

-Finally George spoke, “You’re a genius Black.”

-George looked at his lap, “So I got you a present, but Mum hasn’t sent it yet.”

Your eyebrow raised, “Do I get to know what it is?”

“No, it’s a surprise, but I am really sorry it isn’t here yet.”

“It’s fine Georgie, just means now I’m not gonna talk to you till it comes.” You joked.

“You can’t be serious.” He whined, as you looked to Fred, “Freddie, why isn’t George here?”

“He’s in the hospital wing, gave himself a black eye from slipping in the court yard.”

“Come on guys this isn’t funny.” George whined, revealing much to his unamusement that all of his friends had also joined in on the joke.

-For a week whenever you were all together you would make up different sonarios as to why George wasn’t hanging out with you all. Whenever he spoke you would also joke that George was using telepathy to speak to you all. However when you were not all together, you would interact with George. You apologized as well for starting the joke.

-The day the present came, George slammed it on the table in front of your group, “Here it is.”

“Bloody hell George, where have you been all week, we were worried sick.” You sighed as you looked at the ginger.

“Well it all started when I was trying to prank you guys, but Snape saw me before I could pull it off, and he locked me in detention for a week in the dungeon, and had me organized his ingredients and potion cabinets.”

“That sounds awful.” Lee exclaimed as you pointed towards the box, “So what’s this?”

“That is your present Miss Black, which I request you open at your earliest convenience.”

“Well I better open it after I finish my 5 parchment paper, and save the world, and...” you joked as you snatched the box from him.

“Don’t forget you also have to babysit Fang, and you told Harry you would play quidditch with him.” Fred interrupted.

“You also said you would do mine and Freddie’s parchments as well.” Lee added

-When you opened it you were treated with a red velvet box, and turned it in your hand, “What’s this George?”

“Open it to see.” He instructed, before looking to Fred with a smile.

-Inside was a hand painted, white oval. Within the oval was a small, colorblocked painting of a dragon. The outside of the oval was decorated with braided red and white string. As you looked at it, George stated, “Mum picked it up in Romania for me, they call it a Martisor, and they gift it during the Martisor holiday, which they celebrate on the first day of spring. The red and white strings on top are supposed to symbolize that you will have a joyous year.”

“Where did you get this?” You whispered

“Mum picked it up for me in Romania when they were visiting Charlie, that’s why it took so long to get here.” He beamed as you looked at him, “Thanks Georgie.”

Part Five



[noctis-noctua]

I, Kaeya Alberich, Take Thee

Pairing: Kaeya x Fem. Reader

Count: 1976

Description: Kaeya knows that be does not deserve anything he desires. There is nothing he can do to make you his, but so badly does he wish there was.

Content: Unrequited love, angst, bittersweet ending, marriage.

Warnings: Slight spoiler for Kaeya's backstory but an addition of (non-canon!) Prince Kaeya.

In another universe, maybe I am not cursed so by the Gods. Kaeya resists the urge to nibble on the tail-end of his quill. It was unbecoming for a man of his stature to succumb to unsanitary habits. Plus, this particular pen hailed from a crow’s feather, hunted by the hands of a childhood friend. The intricate quill had not been put to use for a substantial amount of time, but it fits into Kaeya’s hand as if it came to shape its spine based on the curvature of his own grasp. He could get used to signing off documents and organizing civil affairs if it meant succumbing to such mundane sensations. The morning sun dripping onto his mahogany desks and floors, a faint scratch of keratin against ivory paper filling the empty space… It has been a long time since he’s made the decision to take over petty bureau duties. Today is a special day. Kaeya needs to focus on the satisfying echoes of paper and pen, on the sunlight heating his back, or he might just go insane.

    The clamor of bells tugs Kaeya from his mechanical performance. Each ring is a song of desperation, a performance begging for his attention. Come out and celebrate! Indulge in the pain. He is not a man that falls prey to anger, but he cannot help that frustrated itch in his stomach as he hears the iron reverberating. Please just be quiet, Kaeya thinks. Let me forget. The hesitant croak of his door alerts Kaeya to the presence of the Acting Grand Master. She dons an outfit unique from her usual uniform - a cream-colored dress, embroidered by floral lace, a single azure ribbon tying at the waist. So even the straight-edged Jean has taken time off today? 

    “Kaeya, you can’t make these excuses forever.” He knows from how Jean closes the door with unperturbed silence that this is not a conversation regarding hilichurl nests or Fatui diplomats. He can tell from the way Jean drops the mature title of ‘Sir’ in favor of his childhood nickname, that it is a conversation Jean feels must be approached with gentleness as if Kaeya is a stray cat that claws at feeding hands. The Grand Master releases a heaved exhale because both of them dread this discussion as much as the other. There is an inherent wrong in seeing Kaeya distressed. He may not be shedding tears in solitude or resigning himself to the dormitories, but he is hiding, and that is enough for Jean to observe that he is not functioning as normal.

    “Please, come for a little while. I know it’s not… something you want to see, but he’s your brother. Offer a small congratulations at the least.” Her heels tap on the polished hardwood.

    “I was planning on coming by later this evening.  Tell them I’m sorry for not being able to attend the main event. How could I? Just look at all this paperwork.” Kaeya’s signature chuckle follows, putting up a front of careless flirtation. It is not uncommon for Jean to rope the Cavalry Captain into his desk chair. Lord knows he’d never do it otherwise… yet now he claims servitude to the dulling labor. How ironic. 

    “I’ll tell them of your apologies… but both of us know that paperwork isn’t the reason you can’t make it.” Jean turns around, blonde hair trailing in the breeze left behind before Kaeya can quip up a rebuttal. She’s right. Jean is always right. The papers piling on his desk are from the drawers of his subordinates, filed away to be completed in another five months' time. There is no reason they had to be done today. He is hiding. He is a coward and a pathetic one at that. The thought alone provokes Kaeya to tug on his studded gloves and push out his chair. His sights are set on leaving because to be seen as a frail child is to fail at the sole thing he succeeds at. Being the chivalrous Cavalry Captain renowned for his beauty and failsafe charm is the one thing he cannot lose because he cannot let Mondstadt see how fragile he is behind the visage. 

    Mondstadt’s avenues are bustling. Oak tables identical to the ones across local taverns have been dressed in linen tablecloths and topped with miniature feasts. Children run between tables, tugging at each other’s shirts in a feisty game of tag as festive music tempts the adults to a dance. The tell-tale strums of Mondstadt’s No. 1 Bard’s lyre lead the crowds to the statue of Barbatos. Behind it, trails of petals line the paths leading to the limestone Cathedral. Couples, singles, and families alike make haste to enter through the carved doors. No one wants to miss this. Kaeya tugs on the collar of his fur coat, gazing at the entry before him. He can hear the music of an organ, romantic and rich, ricocheting from inside. 

    He steps into the Cathedral. The ceremony has yet to start and the pews continue to fill. Citizens scoot as close as possible to allow for more onlookers to take a seat. He finds a spot next to Huffman and a few other Knights, squished on the outer edge. It is three benches from the front. Too close for Kaeya to be comfortable. The croaking benches have long since met their capacity by now. Not a soul is missing, Kaeya reckons. Diluc Ragnvindr, the wine Tycoon, Mondstadt’s famous magnate, is marrying after all. It is no small occasion. Diluc’s brazen hair is a torch amidst fog, its perk hue garnering the eyes of all in the Cathedral. He is dressed in a suave black suit. It boasts minuscule gold embellishments followed by a hefty crimson cape draped on his shoulders. Even dressed in the furs and fabrics of royalty, one could sense a distinct awkwardness from him. If you’re going to marry her, at least look confident, brother. 

    It hurts. He cannot lie to himself - not that Kaeya was trying to in the first place. There is a pain associated with seeing the woman he loves marrying the brother that no longer desires to even speak to him. Now, Kaeya regrets standing up from his busy work. These thoughts won’t stop their festering, and it punches a hole through his stomach. Kaeya is all-too-aware that tonight, you will climb into Diluc’s sheets. He’d treat you kindly, of course. He grew up with Diluc and has seen his rigorous nobility tutors shape him into the gentleman he is today. There is no doubt that you will live a lavish life of luxury. A life Kaeya could never afford to give you. 

    In Khaenri’ah, Kaeya’s title of ‘Prince’ holds as much merit as it does in Teyvat. His people are dead or suffering. His city has crumbled into dust and shards of a forgotten legacy. Kaeya himself serves one purpose, and that is to bring glory back to the Eclipse Dynasty. It is in these times that Kaeya regrets being born royalty to a lost nation. In the solace of his chambers, Kaeya would stare at the painted ceiling and ponder. If I were born someone else entirely, would you give me a chance? But who is he kidding? Kaeya knows he’s handsome. It’s stupid and unreasonable to be so self-deprecating. He isn’t the one marrying you because he wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr. He wasn’t from a line of Mondstadtian heroes; he was from the ashes of sinners and embers of civilization. He was Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, caught between familial loyalty and a stinging betrayal. Of course he wasn’t marrying you. 

    The Cathedral doors groan as the nuns heave them open. Light floods in and frames the feminine body of the lady of Mondstadt. In your hands, a bouquet of calla lilies. On your body, a silken robe of pearls and diamonds. It flows at your back, fluttering in the blessed gales of Barbatos’. Kaeya swore that as a Khaenri’ahn, he would never see the Gates of Celestia. But this… this, he thinks, might be the closest glimpse he gets. No one dares to speak. She is beautiful. She has always been beautiful. Time slows as Kaeya lets himself take in the sight of you pledging your livelihood to his brother, and his brother’s livelihood to you. 

     Then, as if he is an innocent child once again, Kaeya closes his eyes as you two kiss. Clapping and cheers fill the atmosphere. 

    “To the Ragnvindr’s! Oley!”

    “Say, Kaeya, do you ever wanna get married?” The girl questions from Kaeya’s backside. 

    “Maybe. Then I can show off in front of my lovely wife! That would be cool, wouldn’t it, Diluc?” Kaeya jests, elbowing his step-brother’s chest. Diluc rolls his eyes, ever the prodigy. 

    “We’re still young. There’s no use thinking about such things. Shouldn’t you focus on training?” He grumbles. Kaeya knows that he will never have a lucky wife. He will never have a healthy family, or a thriving home, or a genuine relationship. Those are nothing more than dreams to Kaeya.

    The girl grabs Kaeya’s arm and begins running into the fields of grapes and firs. There is a childlike giggle dispersing for all in the neighborhood to hear, fading out as they lose sight of the manor. Reaching the edge of the cliffside, they halt. It overlooks a sapphire river below, fit for one of Master Crepus’ paintings. Diluc had been abandoned long ago. 

    “Hey, Kaeya, the water kind of looks like your hair.” The girl remarks, nuzzling closer to him. He feels his heart thrashing in its cage, begging him not to react, begging him not to ruin the fate of his country. To the girl, he smells of linen, lampgrass, and sweat, much as a kid his age should. Silence settles onto their shoulders, both of them catching breaths that had been stolen in the wind. “I didn’t ask before because I thought Diluc would get mad, but… Kaeya, how about we get married when we grow up?” How silly, Kaeya thinks. I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to. 

    “Hmm, okay. So you’ll be my lucky wife then?” Kaeya plummets down onto the grass and grins. It tickles the back of his neck and stains his blouse a verdant green. He dreams of dreaming, because that is all Khaenri’ahns like him can do. He dreams of coming home to your embrace or trudging back from battle hand-in-hand. Either one is okay. Anything with you is okay. 

    “Of course, stupid. That’s what marriage is. So you’ll be my lucky husband!” Lucky husband. It fills his heart with an immature pride too chaste for a traitor of his caliber. 

    “Deal!” 

    “Deal.” 

    They are naive children making impossible promises, but a part of Kaeya has never unlatched from those delicate whispers. Khaenri’ahns dream of dreaming, but just this once, Kaeya wished he could dream of you.

    “So, Sir Kaeya, are you going to marry soon? Youth is fleeting! Get a wife while you’re young.” One of the Knights suggests, sliding him a suggestive beam. Kaeya let’s himself open his eyes. He processes the blinding light from colored panes of glass spilling over him, the jovial expressions of the citizens he has sworn to protect, and you grasping onto Diluc’s arm, a longing of adoration phasing across your features. Happy. You are happy. He turns towards the knight, cracking a smile.

    “Don’t be silly - I’m already married, Huffman.” He lets the novice soldier ogle at him for a few seconds. “I’m joking. Lighten up.” Huffman releases a hearty chortle, commenting on his Captain’s sense of humor and putting a hand to his chest. He laughs along, but Kaeya knows there is no joke. 

Don’t be silly. I’m already married. It was a deal, after all.

[doodleferp]

The Red Yarn

previous | next

The young Sir Hellsing is told how Alucard and Allison met and married and questions the legitimacy of the No-Life King’s memory.

This takes place in 1990. Integra is 12/13 years old and a relative amount of time has passed since she released the couple from the dungeons.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of abuse, mentions of violence

Once upon a time, there was a king. This king did not rule over a kingdom -- but rather, he ruled a species. He was the king of vampires.

For the longest time, the king had no-one to call his own. All of his human loved ones grew old and died, and the minds of his servants were skewed and warped to serve only him. He had no-one to call his own. And he liked it that way. There was nobody who could tell him no, nobody who could keep him from feasting on the blood of women and children. If he wanted something, he could take it. And nobody could stop him.

One dark night, the vampire king was stalking through a small town, in search of his next meal. As he indiscriminately left bodies in his wake, he heard a commotion in an alleyway -- a witch trying to kill a passerby and take their limbs for an enchantment. Seizing his chance, the vampire king attacked the witch, ripping her limbs from her body amidst her pleas for mercy. When he had finished sucking down the witch’s tainted blood, suddenly he saw something. Or rather...someone.

A peasant girl, no older than thirty years of age. She was cut and bruised, no doubt from the witch’s attack. And oozing from her wounds was the sweetest blood he’d ever smelled. The king felt a warmth in his heart that he could barely remember feeling before. He could not bear to strike the peasant girl dead. Almost instantly after he laid eyes on her, he felt like his weary heart was whole again. The vampire king knew what he had to do. Without a second thought, he picked up the poor girl and took her back to his castle.

“This sounds an awful lot like a bedtime story.”

Alucard smiled. “Well, you are getting ready for bed, my master,” he said. “I simply thought it appropriate to frame it as such.”

“That’s not the point,” Integra said. She was sitting across from him, in her pajamas and bundled up in the thick fluffy comforter. “I asked you to tell me how you met your wife. I did not ask you to tell a fairy tale.”

“No, you didn’t.” Alucard crossed his legs. “But this is much less tedious, don’t you think?”

Integra opened her mouth to retort, but stopped herself. Then she leaned back on her pillow, pulling the comforter above her neck. “Very well, then. Continue.”

Alucard chuckled. He cleared his throat, and began anew,

Inside the castle of darkness, the peasant girl’s wounds were dressed and her safety was assured. She was waited on hand and foot by the king’s three servants. Though she did not come from status, the king of vampires treated her like nothing less than a princess. As time went on, they grew to appreciate one another’s company. Appreciation turned to fondness. Late-night conversations became secret whispers meant only for the other’s ears. The distance between their hands soon became nothing. And their fondness turned into love.

But alas, the vampire king was not satisfied. He did not want a princess. Every night, he would beg her to marry him -- to become more than just a mere human; become a being of light and darkness. The queen of vampires.

But though she loved him dearly, the peasant girl was afraid. Her family was bound by fear to a horrid creature. One that made even the vampire king sick to his stomach.

“Oh, wonderful,” Integra rolled her eyes. “A monster.”

“Not a monster,” Alucard said, his eyes darkening. “A demon.”

The peasant girl was terrified of what the demon would do to her family when he learned that she was going to leave. He would use threatening promises to control them, and keep them rooted in the spots he deemed best suited for them. And he had no kindness to spare for anyone. Least of all the girl herself. She knew not why, but the demon seemed to hate her more than anyone else. When he heard of her engagement, the demon was enraged. He would not lose control over his pawns, he said. He was going to put a stop to this.

But he did not reckon with those the peasant girl had to defend her. The moment the vile demon set foot in his home, intent on stealing the girl back to its lair, the vampire king attacked. He made his stand in the moon’s light and vowed he would allow no harm to come to his beloved. He sent the demon away, his cowardly tail tucked between his legs.

With the demon slain, the girl and her family were free. She and her vampire king were finally able to marry without fear of reprisal. And within months, they were wed, with a small gathering present to view them join their lives together. That night, amidst the dim candlelight of their bedchamber, the vampire king lay his queen down in their bed. He lavished her with all of the pent-up desire he had held back for so long.

Then, after many kisses and whispers of encouragement; the king of vampires sank his fangs into the flesh of his new wife. And she had the sweetest blood he had ever tasted.

“The end.” Alucard looked over at the young girl, who had somehow fallen asleep during the ending of the story. He chuckled to himself and got up off the bed before going over to Integra and pulling the comforter over her neck. “Good night,” he said softly. “Miss Hellsing.”

The vampire turned away from the sleeping girl and headed for the bedroom door. His wife stood outside, having been watching them through the whole ordeal. “That was quite a tale,” she said.

Her husband shrugged. “My master wanted a story. Who am I to deny her request?”

“I supposed that’s only fair,” she said. “And by the way, I thought I was the one who became infatuated with you first.”

“I can take a few creative liberties, can’t I?”

Allison chuckled. “Well, if you backhanding my father counts as slaying an evil demon, I suppose it’s not entirely inaccurate.”

“He was about to strike someone. I just had to beat him to it,” Alucard said with a bemused smile. He went to his wife. “Besides, it’s so cliché these days for the woman to be the one who falls in love. When did it become unfathomable for a man to fall head over heels?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t fall in love with me,” his wife assured him. “I’m just saying it took a little longer.”

Alucard slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him and resting his head atop hers. “That’s true,” he said, stroking the small of her back. “But it didn’t take long for me to realize it.”

Allison closed her eyes, listening to his softened heartbeat. “So,” she asked. “How does the story end?”

“With each passing year, the king and queen would only grow closer. The queen’s human relatives came and went; but she did not despair for long. For she knew that no matter what, her husband would always be by her side. And they are married to this day, living their unlives in nearly a hundred years of wedded bliss. Together, as they promised.”

He took her hand in his, his thumb stroking her wedding ring. “Together, forever, and even after that.”

His wife smiled up at him. “I like that ending.”

Alucard returned her smile. “So do I.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Who says, in this day and age, that stories don’t need happy endings?”

[hotpinkrathian]

Christmas Party

(Kyalin)

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Please..."

"Kya..."

"Lin it'll be fun." Kya promised.

"Games with the families are never fun. Do you want me to count how many times Su broke my nose playing pie in the face?"

"It wasn't that many."

"Four is a lot of times to break your nose, Kya."

"You got me there. But Lin, imagine, a big Christmas, on the island. Everyone is... happy,"

"Until we fight."

"And there's sweets at all hours of the day." Lin didn't look impressed.

"We can start drinking at 11."

"In the morning?" Kya nodded, causing Lin to raise an eyebrow.

"Go on," Lin said. Kya pursed her lips, placing a hand on Lin's waist, circling around the earth bender.

"And when everyone goes to bed, waiting for the morning, we go back to my room and celebrate like adults." Kya whispered the last line in Lin's ear, and Lin was blushing profoundly.

"Alright," Lin caved, "but I'm not babysitting for your brother." Kya stretched a hand out.

"Deal."

"Lin! Kya! So glad the two of you could make it!" Pema greeted. The temple was already buzzing with activity. Lin put her coat on the filled hanger next to the door observing the chaos behind Pema.

"Thank you for having us, Pema," Kya smiled, embracing her sister in law. Lin wasn't paying attention when she, too, was pulled into a hug. She raised an arm awkwardly around Pema, looking to Kya for help, instead just getting laughed at. When Pema pulled away, distracted by the sound of a clay pot crashing to floor, Kya sidled up to Lin.

"That was cute," Kya said.

"There wasn't even a warning. What did I do to deserve that?" Kya nudged her with an arm.

"You'll get used to it."

"Thats what scares me." Kya chuckled, walking over to Bumi who slammed a shot glass onto the table. Lin followed, impressed by Bumi's gusto, although, at this rate he'd be out by dinner.

"Bumi!" Kya called, "did you start without me?"

"Took to long, Kya, I'm already four ahead of you."

"That didn't help you last year, it certainly won't this year." Lin had vague memories of their sibling drinking contest. Tenzin only ever participated once, he lost so badly and was sick for a week after, he never did it again. Kya picked up a shot, lifting it to meet her brother's.

"To tradition!" She said.

"Tradition? To drinking!" Bumj corrected as they took the shot. Bumu turned to Bum-ju who squeaked behind him.

"See Lin," Kya started, "the secret to having a good pace, is waterbending." Kya explained, "manipulate a little alcohol out of the shot, replace it with water, and bam. Suddenly five shots feels like two."

"Thats cheating."

"We never set the rules, or if we did, we don't remember them. If he can find a way to manipulate his alcohol with airbending then he is free to so." Lin scoffed.

"Lets get something to drink, hmm?" Kya said, guiding them to the table in the living room the Avatar was dotting around.

"Beifong, Kya!" Korra said, raising her glass.

"Not too much of that," Lin said and Korra nodded.

"Absolutely Chief, I am relatively new to the world of alcohol I will absolutely pace myself." Lin side eyed her, as Kkrra grinned and shuffled over to Asami.

"Here," Kya said, passing Lin a drink.

"What is it?"

"Not sure, ran out of the first one so I mixed it with the next bottle." Lin looked at her skeptically, Kya just shrugged. Sje took a sip of the concoction, ignoring the bitter taste it left in her mouth. Kya must've seen it on her face, because she lifted an eyebrow, pressing a hand to Lin's jaw.

"Too bitter?" She asked.

"It's... fine, I guess. It'll do the job." Kya grinned, leaning close to Lin's ear.

"Later I'll do my job, and don't worry, what I have to offer is very sweet." Lin blushed as Kya took a nip at her ear, before swinging her long white ponytail in her face, and walking over to Pema. Lin watched her go, unsure of what she was supposed to do after that.

"Lin, its good to see you." A voice said from behind her. She turned to see Tenzin, standing there with a small grin to his lips. Lin nodded, extending her hand. He took it and they shook, Lin grinning.

"You too, airhead." He rubbed the back of his neck while he replied.

"Haven't heard that one in a while."

"I thought it was the perfect time to bring it back." He chuckled.

"So, how are things with you?" He asked. "I feel like we haven't talked much with all thats been going on with the refugee camps." Lin looked to Kya who met her eye, wasting no time in downing the shot in her hand, making sure to run her tongue all around the glass of the cup. Lin gulped returning her gaze to Tenzin, hoping her blush wasn't too noticeable.

"They've been good. I've been taking breaks." She said.

"Good, good. I'm glad, you deserve a break, Lin. Should you take it."

"Heh, you aren't getting rid of me that easy." He placed an arm on her shoulder,

"Of course not," he replied.

"Dinner is served!" Pema called out. Bolin and Korra tossed them selves over the sofa, racing for the first plate of the meal. Lin waited for everyone to settle before getting a plate of her own, sitting across from Kya at the large table that had been brought in by Asami to seat everyone.

"Should we say something?" Asami asked, before eating anything.

"Like what?" Korra asked, halting her fork full of meat inches from her mouth.

"I don't know. I guess I just..." the girl trailed off and Lin frowned. Of course, it was her first Christmas without her father.

Korra put her fork down, placing a hand on Asami's knee to comfort her.

"Go ahead," Korra said, "we'll wait." Everyone nodded, and Asami took a deep breath.

"Thank the spirits," Asami started, "for giving us the chance to have this season together. And for this great big family I inherited. I miss you dad," she finished. Everyone dipped their head. Asami cleared her throat, and with that, the feast began. It didn't take long for Lin to engage Senna in conversation, the Avatar's mother absolutely adored all of the Korra stories Lin had to share.

"She was arrested the first day she got here," Lin explained, "someone didn't get the memo that destroying things is against the law." Senna laughed, and Korra shrugged from down the table. Lin lifted her glass, she wasn't one for wine, but it fit the occasion. Before she could place it to her lips, however, she was kicked in the shin. She furrowed her brows, trying to look under the table. She landed her eyes on Kya, who sat across from her, staring intently at the metalbender. Kya but her bottom seductively, her leg brushing against Lin's under the table. Lin gave her a half-hearted warning look, and the waterbender winked.

   Lin volunteered for the game, solely to escape Kya's teasing for just a bit. The waterbender had been throwing her glances all night, and Lin wasn't sure how much more of it she could take before she pushed her against a bathroom wall and well... the rest is up to her imagination.

"Wait what do I have to do?" Korra asked for the third time.

"You... again! Just, drink the shots," Asami said, "I'll handle the rest." Lin watched as Bumi expertly poured three shots each,  before re taking his seat.

"Kya!" He called. Fabulous. "These count as part of the race." He declared.

"Seems like cheating to me," Kya said, placing a hand on her hip.

"Hey, a shot is a shot. Watch me of you feel so inclined." No please no-

"I will." Kya made an example of herself as she sat down, pulling her chair loudly to the table, right next to Lin. Lin didn't meet her eye, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Kya's hand found its way to her thigh, her thin fingers sliding in between Lin's legs...

"Lets drink, shall we?" Lin said, downing her first one, starting the round. The game was simple, take a shot, flip through a deck of cards until you flipped an ace, first to three flipped aces, wins.

She began flipping her cards, well aware of Kya's hand gripping her thigh, her fingers hovering over the material of her pants.

"Go Bumi!" Kya cheered as her brother flipped his first ace. He downed his second just as Lin flipped her first ace. Korra was still flipping, her clumsy fingers getting a lot of help from Asami.

"Faster, Lin.' Kya said, almost mockingly. Lin gulped, feeling herself blush.

"Faster, Lin, Faster!" Lin ran a tongue over her lips. Focus.  She flipped her second ace, reaching for her final shot. She took it like it was the only thing keeping her alive. At that moment, Kya decided to really squeeze her thigh, and Lin spat the shot out in suprise. She covered her mouth with a hand and looked to Kya, who was evidently playing dumb.

"Too much for you, Chief?" Kya asked. "I know you hate those coconut ones."

"Done!" Bumi shouted, slamming his glass on the table and standing up in triumph.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself, Bum'" Kya said.

"Hah! This old man just beat Chief Beifong and the Avatat in a drinking game. I think you're lacking Kya." He smirked, gripping the edge of his coat. Kya's eyes narrowed, and Lin watched as the waterbender stood up, taking the can next to Asami. She held it horizontally in her hands, thinking it over, before cracking into it with her nails and drinking out of the torn aluminum. Lin watched, oddly turned on by the action. Kya kept her eyes on her brother who's jaw was agape. Kya threw the can on the floor wipednher mouth with her arm, also hot, and sat back down.

"Thats got to be... what, like three more shots? I think your lacking Bumi." Bumi crossed his arms, storming away. Korra looked thoroughly impressed as Kya's newfound talent, getting the healer to promise to teach her. When the kids left, the two of them were left at the table in silence. Lin cleared her throat, hoping Kya would say something.

"I must've impressed you, you have nothing to say." Kya grinned, taking the cards and returning them to their boxes.

"I didn't know you could chug like that." Kya scoffed, stacking the boxes of cards in the center of the pile.

"Yes you did," the waterbender finalized. Before Lin could say anything more, Pema interrupted, lifting a leaf over their heads.

"What are you doing?' Lin asked.

"Its a mistletoe, Lin." Pema explained. Lin looked to Pema in confusion.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Lin asked, crossing her arms gruffly.

"Oh Lin, don't be so grumpy, you kiss whoever is under the mistletoe." Lin looked to Kya, who was undressing her with her eyes. This again?

"Alright, alright, fine." Lin leaned in for a quick kiss, taken aback when Kya gripped her face, holding her lips hostage under the mistletoe. Kya's tongue breached her mouth and Lin almost hummed at the soft groan Kya released. Kya pulled away, licking her lips modestly as the crowd cheered and whistled. Lin pressed her fingers to her lips. Pema looked mildly insulted she likely hadn't meant for the two of them to make out out under the mistletoe. To be fair, Lin hadn't expected it either. Lin looked down at the floor with a blush, while Kya sat there, smirking at the results of her handy work. Someone whistled, likely Bolin and Lin was urged to stand up. With a dip of her head she retreated to the washroom, closing the door behind her.

As she expected, it wasn't long before a soft knock rapped on the door. Lin opened it, stepping aside to let Kya though.

"Did I embaress you?" Kya asked, looking to Lin. Lin scoffed.

"Yeah, but I think I'll be fine." Kya's lips stretched into a grin. Lin pursed her lips, leaning against the sink when Kya pressed her chest against hers.

"Ready to get out of here?" The waterbender asked. Lin nodded,

"I've been ready the whole night." Kya laughed.

"I know you have." Kya took Lin by the hand, the two of them snuck passed those who remained at the party and up the narrow stairs of the Air temple, celebrating by themselves for the rest of the night.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 25: Smoke - Javier Pena

Pairing: Javier Pena x F!Reader 

Warning: Fingering, Oral (f receiving), Angst 

This prompt was requested by @yespolkadotkitty for her birthday!! Happy Birthday my dear! I woke up early to finish this so it would be on your actual birthday. 

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @josepedropascal

November Writing Challenge Masterlist (Only 5 days left!) 

It was late on the 25th of November. The light from the television reflected across your face as you sat there nursing your second whiskey of the night. You lay down against the grey cushions on the worn couch and prop the pillow behind your head, closing your eyes. 

A knock sounds quietly at the door and you open your eyes groaning. You stand up slowly and walk to the door, grabbing your gun from your holster before peeking through the hole and seeing the familiar frame of Javier Pena. 

You unlatch the door and pull it open leaning against the frame with your arms crossed. “Javier, it’s late...what are you doing here?” 

It had been weeks since he had last graced you with a visit. Too busy hunting down Escobar, and fucking his informants to spend time elsewhere. 

“I…” he struggles, “I wanted to see you...it's been awhile and…” 

“You what? Missed me? Is that really the bull shit you're going to try to tell me?” you scoff turning away from him, leaving the door open for him to follow you inside. You make your way into the kitchen and flip on the light. Pulling down another glass and filling it with whiskey.

“Mariposa…” he begs coming up behind you, trapping you against the counter, his hands flat on either side of you. 

“Did you come here for a quick fuck Javier?” you ask, turning to face him. Your lips only inches from his own. 

“Fuck...no...I…”he stammers over his words before he releases one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. 

“What do you want then?” 

It had been like this for months. When you first got a job as personal secretary to Colonel Carrillo you thought you would get a stable income, maybe a couple dates with some officers, and some satisfaction serving your country but instead you met Javier Pena. 

He came in like a hurricane, disrupting every part of your life. Worming his way into your bed, and your heart before ultimately leaving nothing but devastation in his wake. 

You thought maybe you would be different but when the next time you saw him in the office eager with information he had gained the night before from one of his many informants you felt sick. 

But Javier Pena was like the cocaine he was so determined to destroy. Once you had one hit, you came begging back for more. Over the last few months you fought, pushed, and pulled away from him as much as you could but it never lasted. You just couldn’t get enough. 

“I’m not one of your whores, Javi,” you whisper. His eyes snap open and widen his mouth lowers and he gets this questioning look on his face. 

“Mariposa, I know that...fuck you are so much more…” 

You scoff before pushing out of his trap, retreating to the back bedroom. Stripping your clothes as you walk until your left in nothing but your underclothes. He’s followed you and is looking at you with a feral look in his eyes. 

“Then why do you always treat me like them? Just get it over with Javier. Fuck me and leave me! It’s what you're best at...” The words are bitter on your tongue and the bottled up emotions begin to hiss as the pressure is released and you strip off your remaining clothes standing bare before him. 

He gapes at you before walking the remaining distance, placing his hands delicately on your hips and drawing you closer, he whispers, “do you know why I call you my mariposa?” 

You shake your head no as your eyes begin to brim with unshed tears. 

“Because in the office your this little caterpillar all wrapped up and restrained. But, when I come here and talk to you...when I fuck you, you spread those beautiful wings and I am...lost.” 

He begins to shed his own layers and you reach forward to unbutton his shirt slowly. Your anger melting away with the Columbian heat. When he stands bare before you he runs his hands over the curves of your body. “I didn’t come here tonight just to fuck you…” 

You look up into his eyes questioning, “what did you come here for Javier?” 

He sighs before pulling you toward the bed and pulling the covers back, laying down with your cocooned in his arms. “I just need to hold onto something real for awhile. Everything out there is fake...the woman, the work we do. But, when I’m here I just feel like I can breath.” 

You feel his body relax and soften as he eases you even further into his arms. Holding you like a child would hold onto a precious toy. He kisses your neck and nips lightly, his hands running slowly over your stomach and breasts. You sigh and let him continue his exploration when his hand drifts lower finding your bundle of nerves. 

He rolls the tips of his fingers slowly over your clit and you turn your head to muffle your groan into the pillow. He keeps up his slow relentless place before his fingers slip lower and rub through your lips, slick with wanting him. Before he slides in two fingers to the hilt. You gasp and arched your back against his chest, his mustache rubs against the sensitive skin as his lips dance across your exposed shoulder. 

“Cum for me my sweet mariposa, show me how you fly,” he begs in your ear and you feel him lick the shell before you are cumming on his fingers. He never stops thrusting working you through the orgasm before you are a panting mess against his front. You roll over onto your back as he slowly withdraws his fingers. 

When you make eye contact with him he lifts them to his mouth and sucks them clean. Making you moan as you watch him lick your juices from his fingers. You reach towards his cock but he grabs your wrist before you can reach. “No,” he tells you firmly, “I just want to pleasure you tonight my beautiful Mariposa.” 

He kisses your lips and you can taste yourself on his tongue before he kisses his way down your body. Placing your legs over his shoulders before diving with his tongue into your pussy. You arch off the bed and he lifts one hand to hold you down, the other holding open your thighs. His tongue working you back up to a high again before you are cresting over the edge and cumming into his mouth. He works his tongue in a wide stroke licking up every drop before placing kisses against your thighs. 

You pant and struggle to catch your breath when you catch his eyes. The question there. You nod and he delves back in feasting like a man starved. He makes you cum three times before you are sobbing from overstimulation and exhaustion. 

He pulls away and walks into your bathroom, returning with a washcloth soaked in warm water and cleans up the sticky mess he made of you. Tossing it onto the floor before gathering you back into his arms and holding you tight. You drift off to sleep to the calming heartbeat in your ear. 

Later when you wake up he is no longer in the bed. You look around and notice him standing by the window smoking. His jeans unbuttoned. You just watch him as the smoke curls into the air and out with the cool breeze of the evening. If he notices you're awake he says nothing until he finishes the cigarette and turns back to the bed. 

His body tenses as he sees your eyes on him. He approaches the bed like a hunter who doesn’t want to frighten his prey. He sits cautiously on the edge of the bed, running a shaky hand over your hair and down to cup your cheek. 

“I’m not good at saying what I feel, mariposa.” 

You say nothing, understanding that he struggles with emotions. 

“But you are more than just fucking to me...you’ve been more than that for awhile. I...I haven’t…” he swallows deeply, “I haven’t been with anyone else.” 

The weight of his words sink deep into you and you sit up clutching the sheet to your chest. “What?” you whisper. 

“I have been so fucking scared for months...that Escobar and his sicarios are going to find out about you...I can’t loss you. Your more than a good fuck, you’re...you’re everything.” 

“Javi…” you’re lost for words, “...I...I’ve been in love with you for months…” 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I will not allow you to be another one of my mistakes, you can’t love me. Tonight...tonight was my last night coming here. I won’t...I can’t…” he runs his hands through his hair before placing them over his face. 

You pull his hands slowly away from his face and lift his chin to look into your eyes, “What about what I want?” you whisper, “why do you get to decide for me? For once in your life can’t you just let yourself…” you collect your thoughts, “love me…” you whisper. 

“What?” he begs scooting closer until your eye level with him, the sheet pooling around your waist. 

You take a deep breath, releasing it slowly… “love me Javier...because I know I fucking love you...all of you...the broken, messy parts all of it. I’m choosing you, and that’s not something you can take from me. I can only ask...no...beg for you to choose me too.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you feel the fragments of your heart splinter a little more. He stands and comes around the other side of the bed. Pulling back the covers and sliding in, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and he lifts one hand under your chin to lift your eyes to his. Your heart stops and you struggle to draw air into your lungs. His eyes warm and so filled with… 

“Ok,” he whispers before claiming your lips with his own. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but, for this moment in time you loved Javier Pena and he...he loved you. 

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”