#ate some mild spice

[albywritesfiction]

So if Ædan can last more than a few seconds l, hopefully his brother-with all his physical prowess- can go all night. 👀👀👀

SPARRING, of course! 😂😂

Hello Anon!

(kinda spicy again if you get it 😂)

🤣 Of course, of course, Ædric can spar with MC until they're both a mess 🤭

[bookish-bogwitch]

Third Floor Thursday

Thank you for folks who tagged me yesterday. I'm behind on reading WIPpets but excited to catch up.

Instead of WIP Wednesday, I'm observing [Cloisters] Third Floor Thursday and serving up some Basil Pitch's Diary bonus content. Below the cut for mega spoilers for BPD chapter 9 and mild spice.

Sure, Baz did plenty of damage to himself and Simon in chapter 9, but what about the trail of male wreckage he left at the gay bar? What about all those non-Simons who failed to take Baz's mind of his troubles? You might be wondering...

Rejects of Skin Horse: Where Are They Now?

That night was only Lee’s second time out after top surgery. He loved how his new clothes fit him until Baz’s insult brought the old imposter syndrome rushing back. He almost left the club. But Lee’s night turned around when he met a cute guy who laughed at Lee’s jokes, asked Lee to give him stubble rash, and ate Lee out in the toilets. (It was Niall.) 

Mustached Blond with the Wedding Band Tan had just moved into his own flat after a ten-year marriage to his best friend. He’d been anguished over “breaking up his family over nothing”--thanks for that, Blond’s mum--but the kids were blossoming with happier parents. His ex had cheerled his coming out and savaged anyone who asked how Blond could be gay when he’d never been with a man. 

At Skin Horse Blond had assumed the tall, gorgeous man in the embroidered shirt was in his mid twenties--he was so poised--and more experienced than Blond, because everyone was. After Baz’s rejection, City Boy danced with Blond and slipped him the tongue. That first queer kiss did so little for Blond that he wondered if his mother was right and almost broke down right there. But then The Husbands took Blond home, found his prostate, and let him sleep in the middle.

City Boy was from the future, on a mission to terminate the boy who would one day lead the uprising against gay cyborgs like City Boy. He didn’t expect to find his target at Skin Horse, but everybody needs a night off.

As for Reg and Mike? Their story begins in If You Just Smile by @facewithoutheart (680, T). ____

Tagging only people I know have read this chapter ( <3 you btw):

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @monbons @whogaveyoupermission

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @goblindad-emoshit @rimeswithpurple @emeryhall @comesitintheclover

@mooncello

[peppermintquartz]

So that spicy Thai food post. I've told this story before but I'm telling it again. One day, a couple years back, I woke up craving spicy foods. I'd always liked a little bit of heat but suddenly I woke up with a craving basically for ghost peppers. No idea why, but I needed the most insane heat imaginable immediately. Well, I went for it, and nothing was ever enough. Buffalo habanaro wings - not spicy enough. Pringles extra hot - not spicy enough. Takis - still not spicy enough. Eventually I just went to the local Thai restaurant and ordered a Pad Thai. They asked me my level. I said 10. The lady looked at me like I was nuts and told me to hold on. A moment later she returned with the manager, a kind lady who is looking at me with a very stern look of 'Miss you are WHITE' and telling me that she grew up in Thailand and can only handle a 7. I'm like, no, I want a 10, mess me up. So she agreed but told me they wouldn't remake it if it was too spicy, that one was on me. I got it, ate the whole plate, and when the manager came out and asked how it was, I said "could be spicier." She legit looked at me like I was insane. Anyway, I went home and 3 days later, my parents showed up with a 'prank' gift. A jar of ghost pepper nacho cheese dip. I shoved a chip in it and HEAVEN! FINALLY IT WAS SPICY ENOUGH. I ended up eating half the jar in a week before, one day, I woke up again, and didn't want spice anymore. I thought, that was weird, and went to eat some extra hot pringles but, NOPE, the desire for spice wasn't just gone, so was the ability to HANDLE it. From that day on, I was white person MILD. If I want a pad thai now, I'm getting a 2 at most. It's HORRID. I can't even eat medium salsa now. Anyway, that's the story of the "Summer of Spice" and how I used up the remainder of my lifetime spice allotment in one season like someone shooting off all their fireworks at once.

GIRL were you possibly temporarily possessed by Spices Georg

[coffeebrownn]

i might recompile my winterfield headcanons that i've written in twitter but here's a new one (food edition(??)):

ethan is pescatarian, before re7 he eats chicken but never other types of meat, chris manages to reintroduce him to eat chicken again for his military training but ethan became sick.

because of ethan's new diet, ethan went in and tried different types of fish for variety, but at the end he sticks to his favorite week night fish meat is the typical salmon or tilapia, for him grouper fish is the best for soup meals

ethan does't eat raw sashimi or any raw meat due to re7 incident.

ethan doesn't like shellfish too much due to the texture, some are okay like abalone.

chris prefer seasoning that punch your taste buds, something very strong like Garam Masala, Cajun, Shacha sauce (Chinese BBQ), while ethan preferences is pretty mild, so around the circle of Herbes de Provence.

i'm not saying that ethan can't handle the spices or the heat, he just prefer simpler taste and the natural taste of the main ingredient (salmon, etc).

acidity for food, like lemon and vinegar are exceptions, ethan describes it "brings the whole dish back alive!"

from my previous headcanon, i've mentioned how chris is very big into safety (guns, cars, etc), this includes him being cautious with picking meat suppliers and checking labels on where they got their meat from ((again, it's because of the RPD incident, even though he is not there to experience it singlehandedly, he saw his close ones living in that situation, same thing with his parents dying due to a car incident)) it's more so long term over short term, sure he'll try an exotic meat like squirrel/snake from a trusted restaurant/supplier but he's not going to eat that meat everyday

chris' priority isn't about enviromental sustainability (sadly), really just for health wise for him and his close ones (IF they ask, ethan and rebecca agreed, claire doesn't care, jill and leon is indifferent with these sets of informations)

as for chris, he eats whatever meat, he prefers lean meat due to his training, so chicken is very important for him. other meat such as beef and pork is more so a treat for chris. he WILL try exotic meat.

but again, I think both are okay eating the same meal over and over again, and genuinely not picky, Chris doesn't pay too much attention if the meal that he'd ate is the same with the previous meal, he only cares of it's healthy or not (claire and him grew up eating leftovers after leftovers, claire sometimes complained about it). Ethan has a different reason, i think of him to have phases cater around his interest and that phases last in 6-8 month or so.

most of the main dish were picked by ethan, most of the time it's made using dutch oven, so something along the lines of cassrole or stews were often dinner meals for them. with a side of light salad or carbs like stale bread.

Chris isn't the "health police", he's really just a very cautious man. OHH the irony since he smokes the most in the group.

He still sneaks in some chocolate and sweet treats too.. ethan finds it adorable to see that chris is a sweet tooth like him 😭 soemtimes ethan will ask chris if they can get ice cream and you can see the man struggling to say no 🥺

chris sometimes substitue his cigarette with licorice lozenges. he doesn't like patches, but he will take one if he's in a very long flight.

chris HAS to sleep in plane flights, if not he'll grew restless due to him not smoking. he'll wake up to eat or take a piss and that's it.

[marthawrites]

The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter 4, Moonlight

Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Includes: Tension, some mild angst, hurt, comfort, and fluff. Reader (named Emeline) has body image issues due to a slight deformity.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I hope I haven't lost you on this story ♥ I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting for literal months for this chapter. The beach scene in this chapter has been living in my heart and mind for a solid month or even two! I've been greedy with it, and it's finally time to share it. It's inspired by a cut-scene in a video game and if you get the reference please let me know because I will fall in love! As always, I hope that you enjoy it! I plan on having chapter 5 ready to share much sooner than this one was (3 flippin mo rofl) ♥

Catch up on earlier chapters with the series masterlist

-

"Are you taking Lady Redwyne to the Sept this morning?" Alicent asked her son as he sat across the table from her. On any other occasion the Queen Mother's question could be received as harmless. A simple inquiry. Naught more than curiosity for her soon to be daughter-in-law's goodness. 

Aemond knew his mother better. His fork clinked on the silver plate as he dragged a chunk of sausage through syrup. A childhood favorite. Only his mother would indulge him in such a treat if she meant to soften him up.

Or, perhaps, she merely missed her son. They'd hardly seen each other as of late.

The curtains of her room were drawn open, as were the windows, and summer's morning breeze rolled over King's Landing from the ocean. "Yes, mother, I've already said that," Aemond answered as he ate the bite from his fork. No one else joined them for the day's breaking fast; not even a servant. Fruit, still warm bread, and bacon accompanied the spiced sausage on polished platters. The small table lent them a feeling of intimacy even their seclusion couldn't. "Would you care to join us?"

Alicent too dragged a bite of sausage through syrup; the source of Aemond's guilty pleasure. "Not this time, no," she answered around a mouthful. If she were dining with anyone else she wouldn't respond in such a way, but with her son she paid it no mind.

Aemond hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath and continued eating. Tension slowly knotted between his shoulders at the heavy silence.

"I worry about you and Lady Redwyne, Aemond.” There it was. The reason for their unspecified meeting. The softness of her lovely eyes, so unlike the rare hue of her son’s, betrayed the practiced hardness of her mouth. With a tilt of her head she regarded him a little closer in a way only a mother could. 

Truthfully, the young prince found little pleasure in eating and ate almost solely for the purpose of nourishment. Leave it to his own mother to serve him one of the few things he actually enjoyed only to bring up this topic. Again. “We are to wed in less than a week. What is there to worry about?” He asked, appetite gone.

“You know of what I speak,” she answered curtly, eyes fluttering in such a way Aemond knew she might as well have rolled them. “Now is not the time to fall behind on your duties. You two spend countless hours together. Alone, too, no doubt. On dragon back to who knows where, unchecked around the city, amidst the dragon pit. I’ve said it multiple times: you two are not to be alone together.”

“She is a respite from the daily burden of princeliness and unwavering duties,” he replied, features defensive. Alicent read the subtle shift of his neck and shoulders as if he'd turned the table over in a rush of rage.

“It is unbecoming of you and Lady Redwyne to be practicing what you’re doing. Suspicion of your activities is high. We – I – cannot allow a foreign girl to put you so under her spell that you forget about this war. Depravity doesn’t look good on you. Nor does it serve any sort of purpose.” Heat bloomed across the tops of Alicent’s ears. The grip she had on her silverware made her knuckles turn white. Her jaw jutted authoritatively.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He loved his mother. He respected his mother. The things he wanted to say would poison both of those things. Instead, he glared across at her and a breath chuffed from his nose.

“The Sept will do you both good today. Ser Arryk will accompany you. Stay and pray as long as you and Lady Redwyne both require. I’m sure it is needed more than I know.” Her voice was even again. Stern.

The prince stood, eye never leaving his mother. “It is good to know you pay heed to my daily activities while actively disregarding Aegon’s lechery and debauchery. If the tables were turned, would you still?” In long strides he stepped to the door. Turning his head over his shoulder he saw her attention following him. “Now that I see where your priorities lie this morning–” he paused with a scoff, “–you might be lightened to know Lady Redwyne is much more than her father's fleet to me, now. You needn't worry over it any longer. Aegon will have it.” He exited, closing the door with deliberate finality.

Duty. Love. Aemond Targaryen treaded a fine line.

-

Your personal guardsman, Louis, practically vibrated out of his armor in protest of being denied accompanying you with Aemond to the Sept. Growing up with a strict father garnered you the hard learned skill of little mice feet. Subtly was one of your stronger suits, and even Louis, despite your complete trust in him and his skill as a well-trained guardsman, couldn't keep up with you at all times. And, thus, you and Aemond were able to sneak away unbothered on more than one occasion. 

And today? Well, Louis simply had to listen to your hard, and unwavering, no. Your father could punish you for it later for all you cared. Time with your soon to be husband was worth it.

Excitement rushed up and down your spine as you saw Aemond make his way to you at the agreed location. You bounced on the balls of your feet eagerly. Clasping your House's grape cluster signet at the center of your mantle accented the low neckline of your dress; perhaps the lowest cut you'd worn in the prince's company. It was sleeveless in the fashion of your home too, and the gossamer cloak offered you a shield of modesty. 

You saw a tightening of Aemond's jaw, as well as a stiffness in his back and shoulders, which immediately dampened your excitement. Had you done something wrong? Did he disapprove of your lovely summer gown? Perhaps it was the fashion of your braid – would it offend the other ladies in court with its, potentially, outdated style? Your mouth dried before you even opened it to speak. 

He stood in front of you and offered a formal bow, ending with a chaste kiss to the top of your hand. "Good morning, my Lady Redwyne. I don't believe you've officially met Ser Arryk. As per my mother's request, he will be joining us today in journey to the Sept." He spoke evenly. Practiced and courtly. The darkened pupil at the center of his eye, and the way it lingered on the opened expanse of your chest, however, spoke much more passionately.

Your gaze flickered between both men, Ser Arryk standing a few paces back for privacy, and you tried to control your breath. "He must be quite a warrior to be the one protecting you, my prince," you said smoothly before smiling at the knight. 

He simply nodded and bowed his head in a show of respect.

"Hm," Aemond hummed shortly. He hadn't loosened at all yet, and if anything he looked even more tense. His hand at the small of your back splayed wider than you'd felt it before, and his fingers curling into your waist gripped firmly.

Oh. Was this… jealousy? Something primal in the ancient part of his brain that made him need to show you as his? Most of your time spent together had been alone: now, another layer to the Targaryen prince to witness.

The carriage ride was silent. Aemond's hand, warm and wide and possessive, stayed glued to the top of your thigh the whole way.

It was only at the great doors of the Sept that Ser Arryk finally spoke. "Pray in peace, my prince. I will be standing guard here at the door. If you need me, you know where I'll be," he bowed politely and turned forward once again, eyes keen and observant on the bustle of the square ahead.

While Aemond acknowledged Arryk, he barely gave the other man more than a simple "hmm," in reply. 

"What's the matter, my prince?" Inside, your voice seemed too loud for the incense laden air. There must have been hundreds of candles lit and their smoke made the air heavier than it already was.

Beautiful high windows of stained glass dominated the walls, and geometrical patterns of the overhead framework added to the ornate sanctuary. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when the sky’s fluffy clouds moved away from in front of it, rainbows of light reflected on various swaths of floor, wall, and statue alike. While inspired by religion, you’d never been heavily religious. Here, now, however, you realized why so many people lead a holy life.

Civilians gathered in intimate groups for prayer around the varying altars, and the Sept’s holy brothers and holy sisters wandered throughout the place. One thing you noticed was how many averted their gaze from Aemond. Some even turned on their heel in the opposite direction to, seemingly, avoid getting close to him. Despite his lineage, even the holy brothers and holy sisters regarded him with little formality.

Aemond One-Eye. The cruel prince. Black hearted. Kinslayer. Here, in this holiest of places, there was hardly anything more accursed than a kinslayer. And you, the fair foreign girl from far away in the Reach, his betrothed. The smallfolk knew little of you and likely trusted you less. Being on the arm of the Targaryen Prince brought more side-eyes than respectful greetings. 

Tucked away inside the Red Keep with your wedding plans, lady’s gossip, and noble mingling sometimes made it easy to forget that a war was simmering. 

Aemond’s stiff shoulders and silence had spread to you.

What a strange turn of morning. In all your time spent together it had never been quite like this. Even your first meeting didn’t carry the same tension that hung in the air between you now. Before you knew it, you found yourself fiddling with the silken material of your dress. A nervous habit you had as long as you could remember.

Finally, while standing in front of the Father, Aemond turned to you and said, “normally I come here with mother, Aegon, and Helaena.” A long breath exhaled from his nose as he tipped the flickering flame of a candle to the wick of another, lighting it. “Mother summoned me to join her alone in breaking fast. I thought it kind, at first. Sweet even,” he chuffed, a disapproving tug pulling down one side of his mouth. “You are spoiling me with yours so I forget it’s not freely given. How silly of me.” His single lilac eye rested on your doe-brown gaze, your lovely dark pools looking up at him softly, questioningly. Attentively. 

You extended your hand out to his and held it gently. “Aemond…,” you started, peering up at him with all the gentleness you could muster. “I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to come across the way she did.” You squeezed and stepped closer into him, uncaring of how it might look to any nosey onlookers. In your experience even the most religious folks could be the most nosey. In the high morning light, with rainbows illuminating the cloud of heady smoke, the lines of your bodies meshed into one as you kissed the prince’s cheek. 

A smile graced his features and it was the first you’d seen all day. “Let us pray to the Father. May he judge those who seek him for strength and wisdom. May they be wise enough to see what their judgment clouds.”

Kneeling, then, you finally released his hand and began praying in silence. He knelt beside you, too, and you’d be lying if you said prayer had your full attention. Aemond’s lips moved silently and you wondered what he might be praying – they were so handsome, his lips, and you desperately wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him to blushing pinks right here in the middle of the Sept. Each time you peered across at him beneath the protection of your eyelashes you had to force yourself to close your eyes and focus. With his hands clasped, head bowed, and eye closed, he looked ethereal. He was ethereal. They said Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, and the more time you spent with your betrothed, as well as his siblings, the more you came to realize it. Silvery, and pale, with features not quite like anyone else, they truly were lovely and unique. Perhaps one day Aemond would give you one of your own. A tiny white haired dragon with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. You smiled in mid-prayer and allowed your mind to wander. When it came time to visit the Maiden’s altar, you could ask for her forgiveness in regard to the impure thoughts that ran rampant in your mind. 

After visiting and praying at the altars for the Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger, and after many stolen touches and lingering gazes, you two finally exited the Sept with Arryk close behind. The carriage ride back was lighter than the first. You crossed a leg over the other so it pointed in Aemond’s direction, and behind the little shield of your knee his larger palm rested atop yours.

Upon returning to the Red Keep Aemond was almost immediately swept away by a list of duties and “royal chores” – whatever that meant – that he’d fallen behind on since spending more time with you in the Sept than was expected. You were beginning to read him better and better all the time. While others might not take note of it (sternness and practiced neutrality a theme for the young prince) you saw the bristle of annoyance along his edges as Otto took him away. You barely had time to say goodbye. Walking alongside his grandfather, Aemond turned his head over his shoulder one last time and offered you a small, barely there smile and tilt of his head. Your own lips pressed into a restrained grin as you offered a wave just as small. You hoped he’d at least be able to have dinner with you tonight. Until then, there were many wedding plans and gossip for you to busy yourself with. 

During the evening’s meal you were distracted and hungry. “If you could summon him by staring at the door he’d already be here, my lady,” Jane whispered to you sympathetically. “Let’s try to at least enjoy the wine, yes?" She served herself a plate and helped you with yours. "Ah… it reminds me of back home. We’d be getting ready for the dance of the moonlight jellies! It’s tomorrow night! I hate to miss it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed.” Her expression changed from melancholy, to excitement, to pouting, and you followed right along with her. She tried to soften her pout with a little smile.

“Ah! Gods we would be, huh? Oh, I can’t believe it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed too. Such a pity. It’s always been my favorite event of the summers.” Your gaze went distant for a moment, fingertip gently circling the rim of your goblet. So far there definitely hadn’t been any sign of Aemond. Nor Aegon or Otto for that matter. Alicent and your father were busy chatting away – assumedly about more wedding plans – and Helaena patiently ate and helped feed her children in turn. There were other noble ladies and men around the table as there were most nights. You couldn’t keep up with all the conversation around, and frankly didn’t care to, because you kept watching the main entrance dreamily as if Aemond would stroll through it at any moment. Jane always knew how to pull you out of your little daydreams. “I almost wish you hadn’t reminded me because now I’m sad,” you laughed.

“Not my intention!” She giggled despite the defensiveness of her tone. “I think it’s lovely your wedding will be so close to the dance. Perhaps they’ll allow us a bonfire in celebration too.”

“Perhaps! Though… I do admit… – ” you dropped your voice low and leaned closer to Jane so no one else might hear what you said “ – I don’t know how long after the vows I’ll be able to stay. The bedding ceremony follows soon after, yes?”

Jane squealed. “You unholy woman!”

You two broke off into fits of giggles and entirely unladylike banter. You did your very best to stay hushed, however, not wanting just anyone to hear the things you were saying about your betrothed. In fact, such talk was more suited for bedchambers and private groups – not the middle of dinner. You both got a few side eyes and raised eyebrows. Even your father gave you the look on two separate occasions. Whoops. Maybe the wine was affecting you more than you realized. Finishing the remainder of your food, you stood and walked to give your father’s cheek a goodnight kiss.

“Take some water and drink it before you fall asleep! You little wildling,” he called after you.

There was already a full pitcher of water in your bedchamber, but that didn’t stop Jane from grabbing an extra just in case.

By now you were both learning the halls of the Red Keep. The main hallways, that is. There was much more to the sprawling castle than you knew, and to say it was intimidating and overwhelming was an understatement. Thankfully – by the God's small graces – its main flow was easy enough to learn and navigate.

“When the castle was complete under King Maegor’s rule, he had all the builders executed to ensure only the Targaryen’s knew its hidden passages and secrets,” Aemond had told you during one of your earlier explorations of the castle. You hadn’t a reason to doubt him. But, even if you did, you knew in your bones he spoke the truth.

How different he was than any boy you knew from home. A true Targaryen from the blood of Old Valyria. You, naught but a sweet, delicate grape, held inside the claw of a mighty beast; how easily he could skin you whole. His steady eye observed you, studied you; the tips of his roughened fingers gingerly accepting your more forward affections so those tips might learn the utter softness of your flesh.

Inside your room you readied for sleep. "A bonfire on the beach in honor of the Arbor's celebration being prepared as we speak…," you spoke dreamily, eyes a little distant as you envisioned Aemond experiencing it for the first time.

Jane's delicate fingers loosened your day's braid before brushing any tangles out. "Surely you know the rumors of the prince…," she said, baiting you, arching a brow at you through the mirror.

"There's quite a few. You'll have to be more specific," you replied similarly.

"He doesn't dance! At all. The only dancing he's done is in the sky on his dragon. Or dancing with foes in the training yard and skirmishes." 

You knew of these rumors, of course. "I suppose he'll need some practice before the wedding then, yes?"

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting smirked and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think you'll be the one to teach the tall lanky prince how to dance on a whim?"

"He's not lanky!" 

You both laughed and continued the banter until you were dressed comfortably for bed. She bid you a goodnight and kiss on the forehead before leaving to retire to her own chamber. Sleep came easily that night. Sweet wine coated your palate and you dreamt of embers and jellyfish.

-

The sun barely lightened the sky when you woke. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you stretched with a wide yawn. Excitement pulled at your belly and before you knew it your bare feet padded across the chilly stone floor to your desk. You struck your candle to flame, dipped a quill into its inkpot, and began writing a letter to your soon to be husband. He'd written you many little letters since your arrival, and you'd yet to have one delivered to his room. Before losing inspiration, you wrote,

"My dearest Aemond,

Meet me down at the beach tonight. With it still being high summer the sun doesn't set until late. Please. You won't want to miss this.

Your Lady Redwyne"

Still in your nightgown with only a flimsy robe covering yourself, you cracked the door open and peered outside. Grinning, you hissed a careful whisper, "Louis! Psst, hey Lou!" 

He perked up after the second call of his name. "My Lady? What is it? Is everything okay?" His armor clinked as he strode over to you quickly, kind eyes looking over you for any sign of distress. As soon as he saw your excited glimmer, however, his shoulders softened. "You're perky this morning."

"Take this to Prince Aemond! Please. Before he leaves his chamber for the day. It's important, hurry!" You put the carefully folded letter in his hand and shooed him off. "Thank you," you added before closing and latching the door again, trying to calm the excited wave of butterfly wings in your belly.

Tonight would be magical.

You dressed, braided your hair, donned some of your favorite gold jewelry, and applied perfume to the insides of your wrists, behind each ear, and at the center of your breast. You prayed for the hours to pass quickly as you applied makeup. Accentuating your features always made you feel pretty. There was an art to it too, you realized some years ago, in balancing hues and pigments to your natural skin without looking akin to someone from the theater. Like everything, it took practice. And you were happy with how your skills had grown. With one final tuck of hair here, and twist of hair there, you departed your bedchamber with confidence in your stride.

Breakfast. Going over more wedding plans. Tea and lunch with fellow ladies of the court. A break amidst the gardens. Supper. All without Aemond. The hours flew by and yet the day itself dragged. As soon as you were finished you made a sneaky escape to your horse in the stable. Before your father, or Louis, or even Jane knew what you were up to, you were off. 

Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it, you said like a mantra to yourself in time with your horse’s pace. The mare wasn't easily spooked and quite prone to biting. It took you at least the first three days to gain her trust, and at least another two to make it so you could saddle and ride her without the assistance of a stable boy who’d been around her nearly his whole life. You pulled all the tricks: oats, apples, even carrots. Finally, after many suspicious huffing fits, the mean she-beasty warmed up to you. Now, she greeted you with happy whinnies and curious snufflings – she’d know if you came without a peace treaty and you weren’t about to try your luck with that yet.

The sun was perhaps two hours from setting when you made it down to the beach to begin collecting wood for a fire. The fresh salty air was warm and you were glad to have worn a thin dress with billowing accents. Waves continuously lapped at the shore and before too long you found yourself in a partial trance. Thoughts in your mind slowed and quieted, and for a moment the sand almost looked like the golden sand of which you were born to.

"My Lady Redwyne," Aemond's soft voice called from behind you. At least he had the decency to let his presence be known before merely arriving out of thin air like he usually did with you. He'd ditched his normal tunic and only wore his thin linen undershirt; its laces only partially tied to expose a tantalizing swath of his collar and chest. Leather in the summer heat could be unbearable and you were glad to see him in less clothing -- for wholly innocent and wholly impure reasons alike. "You picked a fine horse for the ride down here. I trust you have your dagger too?" He asked, eyeing you over approvingly and questioningly.

A smile curled up from your mouth and went right to your eyes. How you missed him. With his hair rippling in the wind, and his shirt giving sight to parts of himself that you'd yet to see, and the tiny pucker of his mischievous lips, a pang rang in your heart. How did you go so long without knowing him? Without being his betrothed? "Of course. I've not gone a single place without it since you gifted it to me in your secret place."

The space between you was closed by his long careful strides in the sand, and he wordlessly took the pile of driftwood from your arms. "There's my good girl. Where would you like these?"

Blushing, you pointed to the stack you'd been working on and said, "just there."

"What is it you're so excited to show me?" He asked once you both gently discarded the driftwood into the pile.

You began stacking it neatly, in the way your father taught you, to make a successful fire. "Every year, when the summers extend beyond one year, the Arbor has a celebration known as 'the dance of the moonlight jellies'," you said fondly, looking over to him with distant, happy eyes. "The final preparations would be happening now. It's always been my favorite celebration, and this is the first one I've ever missed."

Aemond listened curiously as he always did whenever you talked about things from home -- whether it be stories and myths, lore, architecture, or anything else. "Tell me about it, my Lady."

A wistful sigh escaped your lungs. "On the western part of the island, out into the Sunset Sea, there is a breed of jellyfish who migrate along our coastline. We build bonfires along the beach and out on the docks as far as we can. These jellies are special because they glow," you smiled, movements continuing on muscle memory as you struck a fire to life. "They make the water look as if a hundred thousand fires were beneath the surface. Everyone from the highest houses down to the most rugged Flowers join together for the night. We sing, and dance, and drink spiced wine." By now your own little fire was coming more and more to life. "All while they slowly drift along with the ocean's current." By the end of the explanation you were sitting and beginning to work your shoes off your feet.

All the while, Aemond listened and imagined such a thing even happening. There was nothing like that around here. He never journeyed far from home for too long either, for his princely and second son's duties kept him tied down to King's Landing -- more specifically, the court of the Red Keep -- with a short leash. The more he learned from you, the more he realized he truly knew nothing of the Arbor. "Everyone? The nobles and the bastards?"

"Yes, my prince. All is cast aside for the night. It is truly that important to the people and tradition."

Golden sun washed over the young prince as he looked out to the ocean. Pensive. A few moments of silence followed as you both quietly observed the continuous lap of waves. When he turned his attention back to you his pupil was so small from the sun that the lilac of his iris was all you could see. "I would fly you there tonight if things were different in our world, now."

Guilt rushed to your throat. "Oh, Aemond, no. That is not what I meant by any of this," you said with meaning as you found yourself straddling over his lap with his lovely sharp face between your hands. "I am sad to miss it, yes, of course. But that is why I'm here now. And that is why I wanted you to join me here and now too, so I could share this special time with you." You gently pressed your forehead to his, the tip of your nose fitting against his bridge. A soft smile pulled on your lips when his mouth brushed yours in a whispering kiss.

Lips led to tongues, and soon to teeth, and Aemond's hands traced along your hips and waist all the while. Goosebumps tickled your skin despite the warmth of the air and fire. The press of his hands, the weight of them, had you panting against his mouth. Leaning back, he grinned slyly. "Let us stop before we cannot." He gave your hip a firm squeeze before slowly, slowly, letting go of you against him.

"I want so badly to be your wife...," you whispered sincerely. "Before, though, there is one more thing I need to share with you." Heat crept into your face, yet this blush had nothing to do with the coil of arousal in your belly and all to do with the humiliation in which you were going to show your soon to be husband.

Confusion and worry instantly shifted his features. "What is it, sweetling?"

Emotion welled in your eyes and it took a great deal of strength to not let tears fall from your clumpy eyelashes. "Promise you won't change your mind about me either?"

He ran a thumb across your freckled cheek. Your sweet doe-brown eyes ripped at his heart. "I promise."

You offered a soft sad smile before carefully moving from atop his lap. Shifting, you instead sat between his legs with your own outstretched before both of you. You pulled your legs up at the knee so your feet were flat and fully exposed for both of your visions. On each foot, the second and third toe were fully fused together, and a small webbing of skin connected the base of all your toes together. Without looking over your shoulder to Aemond, you explained, "it is a bad omen." As if he wasn't connecting the dots you pointed out your deformity. "Akin to your eye it is a cloak of shame for me. In our mythos it is said it only happens to those who had a twin in the womb... but ended up killing the twin. It is said we are cursed, for we are bloodthirsty like sharks. Only the strongest survive. So we are born with these to let everyone know we are capable of kinslaying as only babes."

Aemond pushed his fingers against the side of your jaw so you were forced to look back at him. His face was somehow soft and stern alike. "Then you are my bloodthirsty little babe. Dragons do not share their egg with another dragon. If the mythos is true, then you are the strongest. And it was you who was born for a reason." He kissed you again, fiercer, this time, and the salt of your tears clung to his tongue.

The sun's golden rays disappeared beyond the curve of the ocean and a spill of reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky instead. "Dance with me, Aemond. I don't care if you don't know how to. No one is around to see. It can be another one of our secrets," you forced a tiny laugh through the emotion which swelled your throat. You smiled, genuine, and helped him stand.

There were no drums, nor string instruments, nor anything else but the rolling roars of waves as you and Aemond danced beneath the growing moonlight with only your fire as witness.

-

The following morning you were surprised to see everyone already at the table eating. Aegon, Helaena, their children, Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and your father. Happiness filled in your chest at the idea of sharing a meal with Aemond – he’d been so busy you two hadn’t been afforded the luxury for what seemed days. You and Jane shared a little look as you strolled to the empty seat next to your betrothed. Polite greetings filled the table. It all looked and smelled wonderful. 

“Good morning, my prince. Is there an occasion I’m unaware of?” you asked as you began dishing up. Ever since you could remember you were always most hungry in the mornings.

“Good timing on everyone’s part, I’m assuming.”

Beneath the table, he bumped his leg against yours and gave you a half-sly side glance. Manners were important to him, and sharing a table with so many kin meant his bump, and his face, was likely all the flirting that would happen this morn.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you nor the King. Where you smiled coyly and shared the look with Aemond, Aegon snorted. “I forgot to ask, brother, did you and Lady Redwyne enjoy your little adventure out to your rock? I heard she had sweet little bruises all over her tender flesh that night. I don’t blame you for not wanting to wait. She’s supple as any peach,” he said brazenly, finishing the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. “More,” he said to everyone and no one alike. Holding his goblet out to be refilled, he chuckled and flashed his best smile to you. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them, this wasn’t the first cup of wine he’d had. 

You tensed. Aemond tensed. At your side, and beneath the table too, Jane gripped your hand tightly. Lord Redwyne glared at King Aegon but dared not say anything – at least not yet – in fear of what the drunken King might do.

“Aegon Targaryen!” Alicent hissed to her oldest son, dark eyes blazing. “King or no, that is extremely inappropriate. How dare you speak to your brother and future sister-in-law in such a way in front of everyone!”

“What? I’m only expressing my happiness to my little brother for finally getting it wet. And with a girl so pretty too. Prettier than any whore I’ve seen.”

Jane squeezed your hand hard as Aemond’s and your father’s chair toppled backwards with the ferocity in which they stood.

“Says the man who took me to a brothel when I was only three and ten–”

“King or not I will not sit here and let some boy talk about my daughter in such a manner you insolent–”

Aemond’s voice and Lord Redwyne’s voice boomed into one, their words meshing in a mess of hollars as Alicent joined in the scolding. Polished silver clattered loudly and silently alike onto the stone floor. Who had thrown it?

You were struck dumb. If this is what broke out during an otherwise ordinary meal, what happened behind closed doors? During small council meetings? Stress weighed on the entire kingdom and the family before you bore the bulk of it. Everyone’s nerves hung by a thread: a thread which could be snapped as easily as a dried twig by a stupidly careless remark. Embarrassment burned your face and hot tears threatened to spill from your welling eyes. This was nothing short of a nightmare and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Your ears muffled as if you were under water. You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even Otto stood, his voice adding to the yelling.

“Come, Princess Emeline,” Helaena’s soothing voice whispered delicately against your ear. Her hand, beautifully pale and impossibly soft, grabbed for your own and pulled you from your chair amidst the yelling. She ushered you away. Crimson wine dripped onto the floor from where it was spilled atop the table.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you stammered, frantically swiping tears from your cheeks. 

“I am sorry for the way my husband is acting. If I am to be honest… we received extremely troubling news about Rhaenyra and Daemon this morning. Even if no one will admit it, this war has everyone scared.”

Despite the meaning of her words, she, outwardly, seemed calm.

Not having anything intelligent to say, you squeezed her hand reassuringly. No one followed you ladies out. At a glance, it appeared guards were watching and taking note of your movements through the halls. Helaena turned here, and there, and before you knew it you were standing out by the weirwood. It loomed tall and wide. It cast a shadow of mysticism. Tranquility. For the first time since arriving in the dining hall you breathed a true lungful of air. And then another.

"You are a strong swimmer, and Aemond a strong flier. Both, and more, will be required in the coming time," Helaena spoke dreamily as she led you to an ancient camellia tree. "Two fruits of one, and one of two," she continued to muse aloud. She laid back in the vibrant petals fallen amongst the grass, and you followed along. "Have you ever noticed how red this camellia is? It hardly seems real."

Your vision turned from her to the tree. Leaves of green and flowers of red contrasted starkly against the blue morning sky. A breeze moved through the air and a petal slowly fell to land on the center of your abdomen. "I've never seen one this size before," you said in the serene quietness. Comfort seeped into your bones as you watched fluffy clouds drift across the sky.

A thin long legged spider crawled across Helaena’s outstretched hand. She watched the tiny creature as if it were the most magnificent thing. “You make my brother happy. Thank you for that, princess,” she said, not taking her attention away from the spider. “He bears much and carries more.”

Helaena’s words sent something like love fluttering in your belly as you regarded the gentle far-seeing Queen. Her white hair fanned around her head like a halo on the crimson petals; violet eyes distant and unfocused. “Thank you, Your Grace,” is all you replied, not wanting to break her other-worldly concentration. 

She continued to mutter quiet things about: from two to one, moving shadows, and cracked shells. 

Tranquil minutes passed. You became lost in the garden of your mind.

“My Lady…,” Aemond’s voice broke through your reverie. “I apologize for what happened.” He extended a hand to you, silently offering to help you up from the grass. “Allow me to take you to your chambers?”

You nodded and accepted his hand. “Yes, please,” you said as you stood and brushed any debris or wrinkles from your dress. Emotion swelled up from your diaphragm to the back of your throat and it took a steadying breath, or three, to push it down. Stress and tension simmered inside you and it threatened to boil over.

“Thank you, sweet sister, for getting her away,” Aemond said. Helaena only briefly regarded him and offered a short wave. 

Aemond held you close as you both walked the halls to your bedchamber. Beneath the scents of smoke (which clung so close to him you swore it seeped from his own pores), leather, and bathing oils, he smelled like clean sweat. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything it made you want to bury your face into his neck and not come out for hours. Hurt weighed on your heart. 

You missed home. You missed the sense of normalcy you'd known your whole life. So many things were different here. You clung to Jane when you could, and even grounded yourself to Louis, and of course found comfort in your father. Thank the Seven they were all here. If they weren't, you might very well have turned around in Blackwater Bay as soon as you arrived.

Here, now, you clung to Aemond. Your prince who regarded you with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, so unlike the way you'd seen him interact with anyone else. It only made you want to draw those tender moments out from him more.

"Aegon is vile. And an idiot," he said as soon as your chamber door was securely shut. You stood facing each other in the gentle sunbeams of your quarter; still somewhat bare and lacking your personal touch. "He is drunk but that is no excuse for him to behave in the way he did. Are you alright?" Both his hands cupped your face in reverence, his single eye peering between both of yours as if deciphering your thoughts like scrawled words on parchment.

Hesitation hung in the air before you nodded. "Yes, I'm alright, my pr-, Aemond," you caught his title before it fell from your lips, whispering his name instead.

"Your Aemond. You are correct, princess," he smiled and tipped his head down to meet your lips in a tender kiss. "No harm will come to you whether it be from my kin or enemy alike. Do you understand me? As my betrothed, and even more so once you are my wife." His gaze was only sharp, now, face stern, lacking any of its previous softness.

Searching his features and posture, you, once again, hesitated before asking in a voice that could have been lost in a space any louder than the one you currently shared, "you promise?"

"I promise."

-

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ See you in chapter 5 where there will be wedding bells!

masterlist

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@melsunshine @iiamthehybrid @arcielee @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrot @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @castellomargot @lost-and-founds @chompchompluke @sirenofavalon @okfashionista @girlwith-thepearlearring

you did not asked to be added but I thought you might like to know since it has been so flippin long! @borikenlove @abbyandizzysmum @disco--fairy

[devilsurvivor-2-recordbreaker]

My dealer: listen I've got something you might like

Me, who is destined to be defeated by my own hubris and curiosity: okay hit me

Dealer: here *opens of silver suitcase* *opens to show bag of dog treats*

Me: okay very funny stop pulling my leg and give my weed before I throw you against the wall

Dealer: nah nah listen. they're edibles disguised as dog treats, no copper is gonna be whining up your leg if you've got these treats

Me who doesnt understand why i even come back here anymore: okay your freaking me out with the dog puns but I'll take'em. Can you please bring me normal weed next time btw? I'm tired of getting roped into these wacky adventures because of your strange drugs

Dealer lying through his beautiful smile: of course but you just enjoy yourself my good companion. Your one of my best and only customers and I make sure to only sell the best quality spices for someone so special.

Me grabbing the weed doggy treats and it stuffing into my snack stash bag: sure whatever well see yeah til next time

...

..........

.....................

I awake I dreary state, my mind and body rebooting as they tether together after this smoke session. The time between when I ate those stupid treats feel like either three hours or three days. Maybe three years seeing that I felt like I got sent to mars, died, and was reincarnated back on earth. I was drowned in a sea of feelings and emotions and buried in the mud for hibernation. Only now has the spring thawed me out of this cold winter pond.

My eyes readjust to the bright lights even though they're incredibly dim. I think I'm lying on the floor. I'm covered in food stuff and atleast half a bottle of ketchup i must have murdered in some weed rage. I gotta layoff the hotdogs.

I flop over onto one side like a log. I try to get up but my arms don't seem to work. Within my mild consciousness I force my body to stretch my eyes open. It feels like lifting a boulder. Like my body has gone rock solid and I'm forcing myself out of this petrified cocoon.

My eyes decieve me. I have. Paws. Crossing my eyes I zero in on the wet black spot I now realize is my nose on my elongated snout and not just a my vision giving out. GOD DAMNIT THE WEED MADE ME INTO A DOG FUCK.

[confessions-official]

once i went to a korean store and i thought i should try some ramen, because of how my older sister couldnt handle the spice in my chicken flavored ships (which are VERY mild), however i took the one that said 4x hot and when i made it i took like 1 bite and i already drank half of my 24 oz water bottle i had incase, i was about to accept my fate to make this my dinner when my dad came in, tried THE SMALLEST AMOUNT, like barely ate it, made the worst face and said "im taking this away from you i do not want you getting a stomach ache" and i kinda feel bad about it honestly, i need to get more spice tolerance so i can try new food lol

.

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

So for once, nothing angsty, but something more fluffy! ANd its based on food!

So I think, if I remember right anyway, canon Alastor does not like fast food or like food similar to it, and that kind of implies to Radio Guard Alastor too. To a degree tho. He very much would rather cook than have take-out, but also he is not complaining if you wanna give him the egg and spring rolls from the Chinese takeout. It is mainly when he super tired though or had an exhausting day and just has no energy to cook for the gang, since I imagine he may have took over the cooking duties of the hotel.

And now for everyone's favorite types of foods and or flavors of stuff! Alastor-Def prefers more homecooked meals, doesn't matter what, if its homecooked, he will probably enjoy. Does however lean more towards spicy stuff. Man loves spicy dishes, be it a painful spice or a comforting one. Def knows all types of Louisiana cooking and is so happy to share them to others.

Charlie-More on the sweeter side of things. Probably has a love of homecooked food too, mainly like breakfast foods I imagine. But probably also likes fruity stuff too (haha get it because she's the daughter of the Morningstar aka the Devil, the one responsible for Adam and Eve eating the Forbidden Fruit //bonked). Probably loves more baked good spices too? So like cinnamon apple stuff would be her favs

Vaggie-Spice and bitter girlie I imagine personally. She will take her coffee black with a spot of cream or milk while chomping on ghost pepper dusted chips like it was nothing. Can also, for some reason, see Vaggie was a soup girlie. Idk, she gives soup girl vibes. Probably loves spicy veggie soups that just warm you up. Ignoring the fact they are in hell and hell is probably already super hot.

Angel Dust-Def ate like junkie munchie foods. Like cheap, really gross and greasy food. Didn't like it, but it hit the spot. If not that, then super healthier, lean foods, since lets be honest, Valentino would his workers on extreme health diets so they would stay "pretty", so the whiplash of foods probs wrecked Angel's stomach. Now, while trying to go sober and in a safer and healthier environment, Angel def enjoys trying to cook Italian food he remembers his pa or ma making. Would like baking more me thinks

Husk-Bar food. Husk is like Angel, he is eating junkie bar food to use the grease to curve his later hangover. Maybe not as much anymore, but its still there. Alastor does get on him, now more so in a place of concern for Husk's well being. Honestly probs better just making drinks but I can see Husk knowing how to work the kitchen too. Def the type to go to if you have the late night munchies since he knows how to make the most killer late night meals

Nifty-Sugar. Just. Pure. Sugar. She is the type to dump marshmallow fluff on a pizza its that insane. She knows how to cook, sure! And she can cook well with others, yes! Alone in the kitchen? Haha no. Your food is gonna somehow end up in lime jello and taste like you liked the bottom of Willy Wonka's boot. Just dont.

Sir Pentious-Probably doesnt really mind anything. As a snack he def has a more meat based diet which took some time to get used too. Probably likes more mild to bitter foods than anything else. Like the Brit he is, he is def drinking tea with everything. Probs also likes egg based dishes since some snakes do eat eggs. Probably mainly bird eggs, like quill or chicken. So egg bois are safe!

Lucifer-Dont think Luci has a pref. For a good long while it was just whatever he could find in the kitchen after staying locked up in his workshop for days on end. So bowls of dry cereal or pb&js to name a few. It took being forced out of his workshop by Alastor (and seeking therapy by Alastor and Charlie's request yeas later) that Lucifer started to eat more. Like his daughter he loves fruity sweets, and as a given likes pancakes. Probs makes killer cinnamon apple pancakes.

Vox-Probs cheating to say Alastor's cooking, but it is Alastor's cooking. Def has more of a spice tolerance than other Voxs hfdsjkf. Outside of that, probably any more homey foods. Or cheaper stuff like ramen since he never wanted to leave his room at V Towers. Def survived on energy drinks that tasted horribly sweet but kept him going at the tower too. You can imagine his utter joy when at the hotel when he just got to eat proper cooked food again, especially Alastor's

-⚔️ anon

Cinnamon apple for Charlie makes so much sense, she'd probably have begged to get that one cereal that claimed to be cinnamon apple but was kinda mid

All of this feels so incredibly canon and accurate, your MIND

[bunnywritesjunk]

Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: You and Rex have lunch together. Some unsavory events happen.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: SA (mild), Masturbation, inappropriate outfit? mutual pining, Rated R

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello everyone. Sorry for the late chap again. I was actually in the hospital because I had a seizure. I'm ok just a little shook. Anyways I wanna give it up for our wing man and woman in this chapter and I added a little spice for fun. Beyonce exists in my star wars. Comment if you want to join the taglist! Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Rex made his way to the lower med bay with his lunch tray. He was trying to keep his pace steady and slow. He was a little too excited to spend time with you. More excited than he would like to admit. When he arrived there were no patients. He could hear music playing from your office. He made his way to the door of your office and knocked. Music blared into your ears as you worked. Playing music boosted your morale while you worked on boring papers.

"You won't break my soul, you won't break my soooouulll."

You sang along loudly.

Rex knocked again, louder this time. You turned around and jumped when you saw the captain. Your tail flew straight up in fear.

"OH! Hi Rex. You scared me." You turned the music down.

"Sorry." He looked around your office sheepishly.

You got up and cleared your desk of your holo pad and random paperwork.

"Sit in my chair I'll get a spare." You rushed off to find an extra chair.

Rex set his tray down on your desk and removed his helmet. You came back carrying a small foldable chair and a bowl. You set the bowl down on your desk before unfolding the chair. You took a seat and started poking at your food mixing it up. Rex sat there for a few seconds feeling awkward. He removed his gloves and started to eat his food. The music played quietly in the background.

"So, how's your day been so far?" You asked.

"It's been ok, just paperwork."

"Yeah, same."

"Nothing interesting happen with you?" He asked.

"No, nothing except you." You smiled warmly.

"I'm interesting?"

"Well, I don't usually have people wanting to have lunch with me." You took a hearty bite of your food.

"Well, I like you. Uh..."

"I'm glad, I like you too Rex.” You cut him off sensing his nerves.

He gave you a small smile. The two of you continued to talk as you ate. Rex listened to your occasional rambling about work and things you need to do around the ship.

“Not to mention, I need to put in my leave request. If I don't show up my family will kill me.”

“Why would they kill you?” He asked.

“Um...Well, my family is pretty traditional. My decision to leave the planet and pursue a medical career is taboo. They allowed me to do this with the stipulation that I have to come back when called.”

“Why is it taboo?”

“It's just a culture thing I guess. Many women in my city choose careers in royalty or politics, some choose to marry and have families, and others join the woman-only military. There is a job for everyone, no one is homeless, no one is starving, and everyone is happy and successful. Wanting more than what's there is considered...selfish.” Your eyes shifted to the ground as you spoke.

“Wanting more for yourself isn't selfish. That's doing what makes you happy.” Rex said.

You smiled at him.

“I know, I don't regret it at all.”

His amber eyes met yours, they held a softness to them. You couldn't seem to pull your gaze away from his. His eyes darted down toward your lips.

“Um, excuse me?”

A voice called out from the med-bay, breaking you out of the trace Rex had on you. You got up hastily.

“I'll go check on him really quick.” You told Rex while walking out of the room. You greeted the trooper.

“Hello, what can I do for you?”

“Yeah uh...my leg hurts...” He sounded unsure.

“Ok, sit on a bed I'll get my holo pad.” You left it on the side table of one of the cots.

Turning back to the trooper he was sitting on the bed watching you. His gaze made you a little uncomfortable. You remembered that the nurse uniform you had to wear drew some attention. Usually, the troopers were more conscious about their stares. You walked back over to him holo pad in hand.

“What's your CT number?”

“Oh? You don't wanna know my name?” He said.

“It's so I can bring up your medical file.”

“Nah, you don't need that.”

The Trooper got up and slowly stepped towards you. You held your ground as he made his way to you. When he was almost chest-to-chest with you, you looked up at him. Your tail flicked back and forth sharply.

“CT number please.” It was more of a demand than an ask.

“Relax, sweetheart.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his face. You pulled away quickly. Before you could take a step back he grabbed your waist and forearm to hold you still.

“No need to be scared, I don't bite.' He sneered.

“Let me go. Now.” You warned him almost growling your words.

You tried pulling away from him but his grip on you was borderline bruising.

“She made it clear she doesn't want you touching her. So tell me Trooper, why are you disobeying her direct order?.” Rex said calmly from behind you.

The Soldier let go of you and stood at attention. You took a few steps back rubbing your arm where he grabbed you.

“Captain! Um, we were just... I was here for an exam...” The Trooper stumbled over his words trying to find an excuse.

“Right.” Rex walked towards the trooper slowly and menacingly.

“What's your CT number?”

“...CT-9082 Sir.”

“You're in luck Trooper. You'll get to spend the rest of your days on Kamino's cleaning crew instead of the front lines.”

“But Sir! I didn-” Rex got into CT-9082's face merely inches away.

“Should I have you removed from duty completely, soldier?” Rex asked him.

The Trooper shook his head not meeting his Captain's eyes.

“Right, so I suggest you start packing there's a shuttle that leaves tonight.”

He left in a hurry. Your heart was still beating hard in your chest from the earlier interaction. Your head was low still trying to process the event. You felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Rex asked.

You looked up at him and nodded. He took your hand gently and guided you over to sit on one of the cots.

“I'm ok. I'm just a little shocked that happened.” You told him.

“That was completely unacceptable and inappropriate. You'll never have to see him again.” Rex balled his fist tightly.

“How about you lock up for the day.” Rex said.

“Oh, no. I can't I still have to be open for walk-ins.”

“I'll put in a sick notice for you. You need some rest after that.” He rested a hand on your thigh.

Your tail swayed behind you eagerly.

“Well...ok I guess.” You got up from the cot and walked over to your office. Rex followed. You both cleaned up your forgotten food and headed out of the med-bay.

“I'll walk you to your room.” Rex said not leaving much room for negotiation.

'It's alright, I don't want to bother you.”

“It's no bother.” He started walking at a leisurely pace before you could protest further.

You caught up with him and matched his walking speed. our tail swayed lazily behind you. Groups of Troopers glanced at you two as you walked by. You walked in comfortable silence. Your shared apartment was in view sooner than you anticipated. Once you reached the blast door you turned to rex.

“Well, thank you for today. I appreciate you standing up for me. I'm kinda seeing a pattern here with us.” You chuckled.

“Of course, I'll always be there for you.” He returned a small smile.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” You asked him. Your mouth moved a little faster than your brain when you asked that.

“Um...sure.” He responded

“Oh, ok.” You said not expecting him to agree.

You opened the door and walked in. Rex followed you in looking around your small apartment. He set his helmet down on the coffee table. You went into your room to put your shoes away. Walking back to the living room, Rex was standing there awkwardly.

“You can sit down. Get comfy.” You tell him gently.

You walk over to the couch and plop down on it. He sits next to you as you turn on the holo television.

“So, what shows do you like to watch?” You ask him.

“I don't watch much.”

“Well, in that case, let me introduce you to the worst kind of entertainment in the galaxy.”

You pressed a button on the remote to a preset channel. The hologram projected a large title, “The Real Housewives of Coruscant”.

“Last episode they had a dinner with all the wives and Katrina showed up even though she wasn't invited because Phoebe doesn't like her. So there was a huge fight.”

You filled Rex in as the holo-projected women threw drinks at each other and pulled each other's hair.

“Huh.” That was all he could say.

He wouldn't admit it but this show was pretty interesting. After a while Rex decided to take off the torso and arm pieces of his armor. You didn't mind but the simple act made you a bit nervous. You tried to bury all inappropriate feelings but that was difficult as he basically undressed himself inside your home. He moved closer to you on the couch your thighs touching. The two of you stayed like that for a while. You started to get sleepy and tucked your legs under yourself. Your head slowly slid down onto Rex's shoulder as you slept. He looked down at you and smiled. Your body heat and rhythmic breathing started luring him to sleep as well. The Holo show played in the background quietly as you both slept through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex stirred in his sleep, his nose was buried in a floral scent. He noticed he was laying down, his arm holding something tightly. The body in front of him snuggled into him more. Rex took a few moments to process the position he was in. He was spooning his field medic. He didn't know what to do, did he wake you up, or leave without saying anything? Before he could overthink more he heard you sigh. You stirred and lifted your head.

“Uh, good morning.” Rex said sheepishly.

You turned around to look at him.

“Good morning.” You said with a smile, trying to diffuse the awkward nature of the situation.

You sat up and Rex followed suit.

“I guess we fell asleep, whoops.” You chuckle while looking down at your body still in your work uniform.

“Yeah.” He responded.

Nawi walked out of her room looking refreshed. She glanced over at you and Rex sitting on the couch.

“Well, good morning guys.” She gave you a bright smile while heading over to the kitchen.

“...Hey Nawi” You greeted your friend.

“How'd you guys sleep?” She asked with a grin.

“Good, good....” You said. Rex didn't reply.

Nawi grabbed her premade breakfast from the fridge and went back to her room. She closed her door not before giving you a knowing look.

“Well, I should probably get going. There are some meetings I have to get to.” Rex said.

“Oh yeah, that's probably a good idea. I don't even know what time it is.”

Rex grabbed his discarded armor from the night before and put it on quickly. He got up to walk out, not once looking at you.

“Thanks for staying with me Rex, I really appreciated it.” You said before he left.

He gave a quick “No problem.” And left.

You felt dejected. You had enjoyed cuddling with him and hanging out, but maybe he didn't want things to go further than that. You went inside your room to freshen up. You tried to think about anything other than Rex.

After you got out of the refresher, you changed into sweats and went out to your living room. Nawi was sitting on the couch watching a Holo movie. She glanced at you then back to the holo.

“So, did you two?...” She asked.

“No! We didn't.”

“Did you at least-”

“No Nawi!” You snapped at her.

She raised her eyebrows at your sudden outburst. You gave her an apologetic look and sat down next to her.

“I'm sorry Nawi, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just a little frustrated.” You sighed.

“What happened?”

You told her everything, about how protective Rex is of you. On Umbara and in the med-bay. How you both enjoyed each other's company and even fell asleep on one another. Only to friend zone you and run away in the morning.

“Hmm, have you thought about how he might feel in his position?” She asked you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well think about it. You're a beautiful woman working with him. He only gets to talk to women he is interested in when he's on leave if he even wants to. He's a Captain, having a relationship with a staff member is probably taboo. I think he likes you, but he's scared.” She explained.

“Yeah, I didn't think about it like that.”

“I mean who wouldn't fall for you.” She smiled.

“Be quiet you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex Power walked to the barracks, his mind racing. Waking up next to you had been a little more than he could handle right now. He had to get in the refresher and...release some pent-up emotions. Once he got there he clumsily took off his armor and blacks leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. It's been a very long time since he's felt an urge like this. He was too stressed with missions to think about masturbation. He turned the water on slightly cool.

His cock twitched when the water droplets hit it. He grasped himself firmly in his hand and started pumping slowly. His mind flashed images of you, your cute smile, the way you walked, how your ass looked in that forsaken uniform. He pumped faster groaning.

He pictured your sleeping face, how angelic you looked resting on him. He was getting close. He imagined what you'd look like under him. Needy and ready to take all of him. He could hear you moaning cutely as he pumped you full of cock. Rex held onto the wall as his orgasm drew closer. He pumped his hand faster. He came fast and hard trying to stifle his moans as best as he can. After he was done, he stood there for a couple of minutes. He felt guilty thinking about you like that. He washed up and walked out of the fresher, wrapped in a towel. He headed to his bunk to grab fresh blacks.

Rex noticed a trooper in the bunk across from his but paid no mind as he got his clothes on.

“So, where were you last night?” The Trooper spoke.

Rex looked up and saw fives grinning at him. Rex sighed not in the mood for his antics. He thought about lying to him but couldn't come up with one with his brain still foggy.

“I was with Ruusaan.”

“All night?!” Fives exclaimed.

“Nothing happened”

“You mean to tell me, you spent the night at her place and did nothing? A wasted opportunity.”

“We're just friends.” Rex shot the arc trooper a pointed look.

“Right, because friends make you need a cold shower after hanging out with them.” Fives chuckled.

Rex didn't respond.

“Listen, don't be scared to take it further with her. Who knows maybe the war will end soon. You'll want someone to live out your retirement with.” Fives said cheekily.

The Arc Trooper walked away leaving Rex to his thoughts. He might need some more reassurance than Fives. Maybe from someone who has a secret relationship.

[mlmxreader]

Homemade Meals and Films | Detective Loki x m!reader

@areyouwaiting asked: well here I am

Det. Loki x male reader

“You’re not eating that shit, I’ll make you something decent” as a prompt because that bitch doesn’t eat right

Thanks <33

summary: Loki has shit eating habits, but you've finally got an excuse to change that.

tws: swearing, mentions of smoking

Admittedly, when he was working, Loki ate like shit. He also slept like it. Black coffee and occasional snacks throughout the day weren't exactly any good for him, neither were cigarettes and cans of Red Bull. Sure, he could have easily gotten something a little better, or at least filling, at any of the fast food and takeaway places that were around, as they were open for a good chunk of the day and they were nice and cheap, but Loki rarely ever went there; usually, he found himself sat in the same cafe drinking the same shit as always. He never ate properly, never drank properly, he never slept properly; every day, he would come home to you in the exact same state. Hungry. Tired. Looking like a bag of shit that had been dragged through a bush backwards. In all the years you had known him, and in all the years since that you had been dating, you had always wanted to change that; you wanted to make sure that he was properly fed, that he wasn't just drinking black coffee and that he was actually getting some fucking sleep, but you had never gotten the chance.

Until tonight. Until he came home at quarter past two in the morning, when the air was cold and the wind was howling and the rain was on tap, when the streets were quiet and the biggest worry you had was making sure that the television would pause before 'Train to Busan' started on the film channel. You made sure that you had everything set up just right; the bedding changed and still warm from the tumble dryer, the scent of leather coating the air in the room, the lights turned off except for the little lamp that sat in the corner, the duvet chucked on the sofa as the television froze when you pressed the pause button. The film would start in half an hour. Pots and pans on the stove as you decided that you would make the thing that would be best for him: a good strong curry. Thankfully you had enough spices and herbs that it would actually taste of something and that it would actually have a kick to it instead of that mild bullshit people often had. A good strong curry; filling, good for the body, and good for the mind.

Loki came home just as you were pulling the vegetables out, laying them in order beside the wooden chopping board; he didn't think much of it, draping himself across your back and kissing your neck sweetly as he grumbled so softly. "What are you doing?"

"I know you went to the café," you started, grabbing a peeled onion and starting to chop it up. "And you're not eating that shit, I'll make you something decent - I'm gonna make you a curry."

He smiled, nuzzling into the back of your neck as he closed his eyes and grumbled again, ever so faint and ever so soft; he could smell the spices already, making his stomach growl as he did his best not to complain about it. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and he could feel the slight shiver from the winter air begin to creep its way up, making him clench his jaw. "What kinda curry?"

"It's a veggie Phaal," you told him. "It'll be good for you, trust me."

"How?"

"It's filling," you started, "so it'll fill your stomach more than black coffee and fucking snacks. It's balanced and nutritious... and it's good for the mind."

Loki grumbled again. "How?"

"It tastes good," you chuckled softly. "And stuff that tastes good is always good for the mind... but don't worry - there's a horror film on tonight, so I figured, y'know, we could snuggle down after eating. Watch it together. I brought the duvet down, too."

He couldn't stop the smile that came to him as he turned around and looked at the sofa; the thick duvet smothering it, the frozen television screen, he recognised the lumps of pillows beneath the duvet, too. "Thank you."

"It's not a big deal," you scoffed. "I mean, I'm your boyfriend - isn't it part of the territory that I gotta look after you?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then go sit down," you told him gently. "Get yourself comfortable, and we'll eat, watch a film, and then go to bed."

All Loki could do was nod as he dared to pull away from you, thinking to himself how lucky he was that he had such a caring boyfriend as he got himself comfortable amongst the duvet and the pillows; maybe one day, there would be a canopy in your future. Maybe one day, there would be a glass to step on. Maybe. If you put up with him long enough.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola, and happy Stab Caesar Day! Tumblr ate my original draft because, um, I guess its hunger is horrible and insatiable? But here I am for take two. Thank you to @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, and @forabeatofadrum, who tagged me today and who continue to craft delightful things.

Updates on My Good Egg (Good morning, good night, good morning): My plan of posting Chapter 4 today ain't gonna happen. I updated the author's notes, but the next posting date is TBD. I need to focus on my health right now, and then I'll be travelling for a bit (March 24-April 7). But hey, if you've been meaning to read this one, now's a great time to catch up? 🤣

In the meanwhile, I'll share a snippet featuring several of my OCs, Baz's queer, chaotic uni friends. Behind the cut for mild spice. 🌶️

Bunce goes off with Simon so that she can pump the American bartender for information, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, Emma leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Well?”

“Well what.”

“I told Liu and Ramesh you got kidnapped,” Emma says, waving her hand dismissively, “and of course we’re all very worried and hope you’re doing okay and acclimating to regular life again, but have. You. Ridden. That.” 

Baz regrets downing a few rats before they left for the pub, because it means he has enough blood in him to blush. “We’ve been figuring out this kidnapping situation,” he says coolly. “It hasn’t left much time for carnal pursuits.” 

“Baz,” Liu says, aghast. “Why haven’t you fucked that nice himbo? He’s clearly gagging for it - he couldn’t stop staring at your arse in those jeans.” 

“Is he a himbo?” Ramesh says. He pulls out a pen and starts to doodle a triple Venn diagram on a napkin. “He seemed like more of a twunk to me. And he’s got a great bear belly.” 

“Ladies,” Emma says, her hands fluttering in mock-distress, “please don’t objectify that sweet boy before Baz gets to objectify him. Baz will eat his fill of the man-meat and then give us a report.” 

(Please put in the comments/tags if you think Simon Snow is a twunk, a himbo, or something else delightful. 🤣)

Hello tags and tagbacks: @whogaveyoupermission, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, @captain-aralias, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @whogaveyoupermission (THE EDGING CONTINUES), @raenestee, @ileadacharmedlife, @shrekgogurt, @hushed-chorus, @shemakesmeforget, @theimpossibledemon, @imagineacoolusername

More about the hiatus for My Good Egg:

(Warning for some hard stuff, Big Feelings, trauma recovery. Feel free to skip and just bask in Ides of March posts instead!)

Okay, so introspective life/writing blather here... I keep meaning to write a post, at some point, about some of the best practices that I follow when I am writing about material that is heavy, like in Baker boxer teacher grief or the Rosethorn girl universe.

A lot of stuff that works for me is probably self-evident: go slow, be gentle, ground yourself, talk to safe people, have a release valve, be able to walk away, offer yourself a lot of self-care and self-compassion, take care of the soft animal of your body. And don't feel like you have to put everything in - some of what you can write can just be for you, and it can be enough to have written it, and not include it in the finished product.

I honestly didn't expect Good morning, good night, good morning to get me where I live. It is, as I've always maintained, a dumb horny rom com (that somehow developed a plot and backstory and plot TWISTS and OCs but ANYWAY). But there was a line in Chapter 3 that kept rattling around in me:

“You were a kid,” Simon says, his voice low and angry. “You were just a kid.” 

This is not the first time I've been triggered by own fic (and probably won't be the last, LOL!), but this one did me a doozy. I've had to take a few steps back, and just focus on recovering from trauma that's been reactivated in my body. It is wild what the body remembers, and how it holds onto pain.

(There is, at the same time, other stuff happening with my family with grief and estrangement and just a whole mischegoss of hard feelings, so that adds another element into the mix.)

To circle back round to My Good Egg: I'm putting it to the side for now while I tend to my health and just recovering from the past few weeks. It's funny - I don't think it's a particularly angsty story or one that does a super deep dive into trauma, but I need to take some pieces off my plate right now, and this fic is one of them.

I will always keep writing - the WIP game has been a delightful brain refresher, and I have a very fun Six Sentence Sunday post that I'm already excited to share. But for now, My Good Egg is gonna have a li'l nap. When I come back to it, I think I'll switch over to writing the second draft in its entirety, and then posting the chapters weekly, whenever that happens. I'm not putting a timeline on it right now.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk making your way through this personal essay, if you've gotten this far. I am continually blown away and delighted by everyone who engages with the fic, and I am so excited to serve you up some treats in the future.

To end on a lighter note, here is an exchange with my spouse, the inestimable EarlobeGreyTea who continues to offer thoughtful and nuanced feedback on this fic, Exhibit A:

EarlobeGreyTea: Did they fuck in this chapter?

Me: No Me: And they didn't fuck in the previous chapter Me: It's the EROTIC Grope Fest. It doesn't have to have explicit sex (yet) EarlobeGreyTea: Yeah, I guess it isn't the Sloppy Fuck Fest

Love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

[merlions]

Just tonight finally getting around to watching the new Dune - I was waiting cause some small part of me thought I'd be able to actually finish the book this time, but I finally have to admit defeat like the last time I tried.

Always been SO baffling to me how everyone seems to regard it on the same level as other sci fi novels, like Tolkien. I ate Tolkien for breakfast at 24 years old where I struggled with it even at 17, and since I first tried Dune at 14 I thought it might be the same principle, but I couldn't even get through the *audiobook* of Dune at 25 without like terrible headaches from just being so. Fucking. Confused.

Specifically the names! Not just names of people, but also titles and places etc etc etc.

Anyways while watching this I realized my problem FINALLY, and realized that I've been like imposter syndroming myself into believing I don't have mild color-grapheme synesthesia.

Dune is literally confusing to me JUST because A's and H's and K's are really similar colors to each other for me (arrakis, atreides, harkonen, kwisatz haderach etc (...i had to look up all those names cause i literally couldnt remember them as im watching the damn movie lmfao)) and they're also really similar to the color of the desert on the book cover, all like shades of red, some of which become oranges with the rest of the word. So reading the book to me is like. Every time a name comes up I am staring at a block of sandstone. Trying to pick one color out of the multitude of nearly-identical hues.

Which makes sense I guess why it's so frustrating to read, but also is a fascinating, COMPLETELY new insight as to how I read books or read/hear words in general. Like...it never occurred to me that that was the problem cause I genuinely didn't know I primarily use color to tell people/words apart.

I've always been a "speed reader", like is that just bc I identify a word and its color, and then every time it reoccurs I just notice the color and then mentally fill in meaning instead of reading the word again?

What implications does this have. I know color grapheme is the most common form of synesthesia, is it common to have problems reading like I have with Dune, or do people with it find themselves reading faster because of it? I heard it's supposed to be distracting but except in very specific cases, like Dune, it seems to specifically be helpful and clarifying? And like I find myself never going out of my way to get certain colors of things, but always ending up with that specific color of thing - ex. I never try to buy red backpacks but at one point I noticed every backpack I've ever owned in my entire life has been red. Have I been leaving myself messages. Have I been receiving messages from the Spice. Spice must flow. Spice must flow

[ratsoh-writes]

More angst asks babyy. Lets do main ten.

Lets say skellie had a small little tradition with his s/o. Like..lets say s/o reallly likes pickles or something, and skellie used to always give them his last pickle(doesnt have to be the exact food, but basically skellie shares something with s/o everytime they do that one thing)

Anyways, lets say s/o died somehow. How would skellie react to where he finds himself making a sandwhich and out of habbit goes to save the last pickle(and/or whatever activity and fjnds himself going to do the thing out of habbit) a little bit after s/o has passed?

Who just goes queit for a long moment, who bursts out in tears, who just quits doing whatever activity it was etc etc?

-edgy.🦩

Sans: sans SO always was determined to eat the first chip in the bag. He thought it was cute to hold it in the air and teasingly move it away when SO makes a grab for it. he freezes in place, still holding the first chip in mid air staring at the spot where his SO would’ve- no should’ve been. Sans slowly lowers his hand, drops the chips, and just puts everything away. He’s lost his appetite.

Papyrus: his SO always would take the tomatoes off his hamburgers because their siblings never wanted to eat them. They did it to papyrus once by accident, and it became an inside joke between the two. Papyrus had gone to his late SOs favorite burger shop with their grieving sibling. Out of reflex, he and sibling take the tomato slices out of the burger and try to pass it to each other. They both stare in each other’s eyes, start tearing up, then start laughing together. Every one is wondering what’s up with those two

Star: for some weird reason, his SOs favorite part of the cinnamon bun was the raisins. So Star would pick his off for them. Star numbly picks the raisins off the bun that honey gave him. As he stares down at the napkin, now full of the fruit, big tears well up and fall down on the table. Honey walks in on Star hiccuping quietly to himself as he eats the raisins one by one

Honey: he can’t even look at ham pineapple pizza without tearing up these days. His SO loved the pizza but hated the ham and would give him all the slices. Even the scent of it now makes him queasy. It feels wrong to taste it without them.

Red: on the miracle that red does survive loosing his SO, he’d be the one who’d eat his SOs favorite food anytime he passed a significant day without them. It’s like his personal way of remembering them

Edge: when he takes the cherry out of his milkshake, he blinks and remembers that the sweet little SO who always stole it from him isn’t here. Edge feels the tears pool in his eyes, growls, and chucks his milkshake in the trash.

Mal: his SO always ate the pickles in the jar but left the juice for mal. Every time he gets up for a late night snack, and sees the jar of dill pickles, still full, he looses his appetite and gives up walking away. After a few weeks of this, the pickles start disappearing. Cash and mal have late night snacks together now. Cash doesn’t mind eating them for his bro

Cash: he was never a good eater to begin with, so his SO would get pizza pretty often as it was one of the few foods cash always seemed to have an appetite for. But his poor SO never likes spice like he did. So they always got two pizzas, one hot for cash, and one mild for them. The first time cash orders with his SO gone, he accidentally gets mild for them. Mal comes home to two full pizza boxes stuffed in the trash can

Oak: his SO loved stealing a lick of frosting from his sweets. It became second nature for him to hold up the cupcake and let them have the first bite. Like always oak holds his cupcake up…. And waits. His hand starts to shake. Willow asks him if he’s alright. Oak says he’s fine and takes a reluctant bite

Willow: for some reason, his SO loved the end pieces of a loaf of bread. So willow always made the last sandwich for them, with those two slices. The first time he eats a sandwich with the end slices on his own, he nearly chokes. It’s hard chewing between the sobs

[late-to-the-party-81]

It's all about experience

AN: And we're about 2/3 of the way through. This is my first time writing for Stephen Strange so I hope that you enjoy. As always when I include Peter, he's aged up.

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairings: Switch!Reader x Subby!Peter Parker. Switch!Reader x Dom!Stephen Strange

CW: Cuckolding and Age difference, Explicit sexual content, Smidge degradation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, aged-up Peter Parker, mild Dom/Sub dynamics, mentions of non-monogamy as a valid relationship choice.

Word count: 3.4k

You knew something was up with Peter when he arrived at your dorm. He was acting more anxious and jumpy than usual. It was only after a few drinks and some heavy petting instigated by you, that your genius boyfriend let you know what was on his mind. Between gasps and moans, as you ground down on his lap and tugged on his hair, he finally let his fantasy spill from his lips.

“I want to see you get fucked by another man. An older man. I want to be told you need him cos I’m not good enough.”

A cuckolding kink; not what you were expecting from your angelic looking boyfriend (not to say he was purely vanilla, but still), but it made the rest of your evening even hotter than usual as he fucked into you with abandon as you whispered dirty thoughts in his ear about how this mystery man would fuck you so good, as Peter could only watch…

You forgot about it for a week or so, brushing it off as just a fantasy, a moment between the two of you, until Peter brought it up again.

“I was… wondering… would you do it?”

You pottered around your kitchen, glad your dorm mates were out.

“Do what, Petey-baby?”

“You know… be with an older man. While I watched.”

You stopped in the middle of sorting out the spice cupboard and turned to him. Although you two were currently in a monogamous relationship, it was more out of convention and lack of discussion than any aversion to non-monogamy.

“I haven’t ever really thought about it. Are you saying it’s something you’d be okay with? That you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“I wouldn’t be jealous at all.” He walked over, cupping your face with his hands and pressing his forehead against yours. “It would be hot.”

“Anyone in mind for this fantasy of yours?” You pressed kisses over his jaw, revelling in his little sighs.

“Not really… I mean, one guy springs to mind, but I don’t know if he’d do it and whether you’d…you know…find him attractive.”

Your hands snaked up his t-shirt, and you started to tweak his nipples as you nibbled his lower lip. He rubbed his hips up against you, and you could clearly feel his erection pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

“Tell me, baby. Who do you wanna see fuck me? Who is it you think is going to fuck me better than you? Make me scream? Who has the skill to show me just how pathetic a lover you are?”

“Dr. Strange! Stephen!”

Peter shuddered in your hold as he whined out the name. His head dropped to your shoulder as your hands slid down his body. You smiled to yourself when you realised your sweet boyfriend had cum in his pants…

Extracting yourself from his embrace, you hopped up on the counter, spreading your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding Peter to where you needed him. As he ate you with abandon, you detailed to him all the ways you’d scream on Stephen’s cock. Peter came again into his hand as you came into his mouth.

A week later, Friday afternoon, you received a text from an unknown number. 

Be ready for me, darling girl. 8pm. I’ll collect you. SS

A shiver ran down your spine and straight into your panties. Were you really going to do this? You couldn’t deny the thought was intensely arousing. Dr. Strange- Stephen- was a very attractive man. And it wasn’t just his physical attributes. You’d met him a few times when he’d popped in via portal to chat to Peter about the odd thing. His general aura of competence, and smugness, borne of the fact he knew he was far above you, nearly everyone in fact, intellectually. 

With Peter, you were the more experienced, normally the ‘aggressor’ in your shared bedroom antics. You knew that wouldn’t be the case with Stephen; he’d be totally in charge, and you found the idea titillating. Would you be able to submit to him? Probably. You shivered again before heading to your bathroom to prepare for your evening.

7.55pm

You paced back and forth in your living room, waiting for your doorbell. You smoothed down your black skirt and straightened the back seam on your stocking, trying to tamp down your nerves. Such was your heightened state that it took you a moment to notice the yellow-gold sparks and put two and two together. Or course he wasn’t going to pick you up in a car. The sparks turned in a circle, which grew in size until it was fully formed.

Stephen stood on the other side, full sorcerer regalia, including his sentient cape, holding his hand with his long tapered fingers towards you. You placed your hand in his and stepped over the portal threshold.

You looked around at the interior of the Sanctum Santorum, the grand staircase, the wall hangings, and large stained glass windows.

“Welcome, darling, to my humble abode.” Stephen’s lips twitched up in a small smirk and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, at the same time trying to suppress the urge to giggle. That was not you!

He hooked your arm into the crook of his as he led you up the staircase and through the maze of corridors. The lights burned low in their embrasures, casting shadows as you walked. It should have been eerie, but it actually felt intimate.

“So, sweet one, tell me - are you fully onboard with this idea of the Spider-child?”

“Doctor…” He interrupted you with a raised hand.

“Please, call me Stephen.”

“Stephen, then. He’s not a child; he’s 25.” Stephen made a dismissive sound.

“As I said, a mere child.” You raised your eyebrow at him, challengingly

“I’m not that different in age.” 

“Ah, but you have always struck me, in our interactions so far at least, as someone mature beyond their years.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his compliment.

“Well, to answer your question, I am on board with it. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

He paused outside of a pair of double doors, letting go of your arm to open the door and usher you through.

“A feisty little thing, aren’t you? Well, you can change your mind at any time. Just say…..let’s see…” He tapped his index finger against his lips. “Just say ‘webspinner’.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggle this time as you walked into the Doctor’s chambers. 

A large, four-poster bed was central in the room, dark red curtains tied back. And there, in the corner, in an armchair was Peter. His arms lay on top of those of the chair, hands gripping the ends in anticipation. His eyes met with yours, and he shot you a small smile before your focus was pulled back to Stephen by his hand on your chin.

“Eyes on me, darling girl. Ignore him now. He’s insignificant, and I’m going to prove it to you.” 

His hand slid up to cup your face, and you could feel the spiderweb-like scars on it. His thumb brushed over your cheek and you looked up into his ice-blue eyes. They were hypnotising. Your own hand raised up and brushed over the greying hair at his temples.

“You are a very handsome man, Stephen.”

“And you are a very beautiful, very alluring young lady.”

“Shut up and kiss me already.” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper but laden with desire.

He smiled as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, gentle at first, but as you wound your arms around his neck, he kissed you harder. His free hand slid around your waist, drawing you closer. His beard and moustache tickled your face, a strange and unfamiliar feeling.

You didn’t know if it was just him or because of the whole situation, but your arousal built quickly, with you kissing him back just as ferociously as he was kissing you. You didn’t notice that he was moving the pair of you until he suddenly sat down on the edge of his bed, drawing you down with him to straddle his lap. Your short skirt rode up, exposing the top of your stockings, and you heard moans in stereo; from Peter in the corner where he had a view of your skirt fabric tightening across the ample globes of your ass, and from Stephen when he caught sight of the strip of flesh bared between the stocking tops and you rucked up skirt.

“Like what you see?” You whispered against his mouth, drawing his lower lip between your teeth and giving it a slight nip. His hands ran up your back, caressing you through the thin material of your top, and he chuckled.

“You are a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

You ground lightly on his lap and tilted your head to the side coquettishly.

“And do you like a naughty girl, Stephen?”

“Mmm, very much indeed.”

He rolled the pair of you then so that you were flat on your back on his opulent bed, his slim hips situated between your thighs, your skirt now doing duty as a belt. Stephen ran his hands up and down your legs, feeling the silkiness of your stockings and the softness of your skin before they inched up to take hold of your skirt and peel it down your body. He discarded it somewhere over his shoulder theatrically, and you giggled.

He pushed your top up slightly to bare your soft navel and pressed his face into it, his lips kissing gently nipping. He made his way upwards, pushing at the fabric as he went, until you grasped it yourself and tore it over your head, throwing it away with the same abandon he’d shown your skirt.

“Does Peter ever make you feel this way, darling girl? Like a work of art ready to be worshipped?

“No…”

“He makes you do all the work, I bet. Waiting on you to tell him where to touch…” His hands skimmed over your lace-covered breasts. “Where to kiss…” He sucked one pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric, and you gasped at the sensation. “But don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Just leave it all to me, sweet girl.”

His mouth returned to your breast, his hand cupping your panty-covered mound, applying just a small amount of pressure. He teased you like that for what felt like an age, moving back and forth between your breasts until your chest was heaving and his hair was a mess from where you’d been tugging on it.

You tried to sit up, but he gently pushed you back down. 

“Relax…”

Staring up at him, you watched as he carefully divested himself of his clothing. First the cloak, which flew off to another corner of the room as doom as Stephen snapped open the clasp. Next was his blue leather top, which he pulled off over his head.

You were biting your lower lip as he undid his pants, pushing them down to his ankles. His body was lean and toned. Dark hair dusted his chest before coming together in a thicker line that led down into his straining underwear. Your eyes widened slightly. Fuck!

Kicking his pants away, he crawled back over you. Your hands roamed over his chest and his arms, tracing his other battle scars. He may be powerful, but he didn’t heal like Peter, despite the magic he wielded. But there was definitely something alluring about a body that had experienced life, that had lost some of its smoothness and softness.

“Are you ready to continue, darling?”

His lips trailed across your collarbone, intermittently sucking harshly before laving the spot with his tongue.

“Please!”

Stephen drew the straps of your bra down your arms with a gentle touch before one hand snuck behind your back to undo the clasp. Then, just as carefully, he peeled your panties down, leaving you clad only in your stockings and heels.

With his head level with your sex, he smiled before blowing gently over the sensitive skin. You shuddered and let out a moan.

“Just think, dear one. I’ve barely started with you, but I’m guessing it would be all over with Peter by now. Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on…”

Without taking his eyes off you, he leant forwards, nuzzling his way between your folds before licking a stripe up you. You groaned deep in your throat, your back arching as you surrendered to the pleasure. Your hands tangled in the coverlet of the large bed, red and gold fibres twisting under your assault.

You’d admit you’d been sceptical about how different sex with Stephen would be - it wasn’t as though Peter didn’t know what he was doing or couldn’t take instruction, but what you were experiencing now, this was the touch of experience. He teased you, touched you, gently. He was carefully and fully learning you, learning what you liked and what you didn’t, without any input from you other than the trembling of your thighs and the soft needy sounds falling from your lips. He traced you and tasted you, building you up slowly. His hands, that helped him channel such power, caressed the skin of your inner thighs, every so often brushing against the edges of your folds.

Your orgasm crept up on you, building and building gently and easily until it washed over you like a summer breeze, carrying you high as you cried out and then swaying back down to the here and now.

“Oh, fuck!”

You stared up at the swags of fabric covering the top of the bed, sucking in deep breaths. Stephen moved over you again, and you pulled his face to yours, kissing him deeply and moaning as you tasted him on your lips. 

“More, darling girl?”

“Yes. Fuck me, Stephen. Please!” 

His cock brushed up against your thigh, and you reached down between you to clasp it in your hand, feel its length, girth and weight, and you moaned as you thought about how it would feel inside you. You stroked it, teasing a pearl of pre-cum out of the tip and smearing it over his head.

“Then come here…” His arms wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you up onto his lap. He was sitting back on the edge of the bed, but this time you were facing the other way around, your back to Stephen’s front, his cock wedged up between you. As you looked forwards from your perch, your eyes met Peters. He was staring at you, lust clearly etched over his face, his arousal evident. Stephen’s arms wrapped around you, one caressing your breast and teasing the nipple back to a point, and the other pushed your thighs apart, baring your glistening pussy to your boyfriend. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, and the sorcerer whispered into your ear. 

“Ride me, dear one. Take my cock, slide it into this pretty pussy of yours and take what you want. Show your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend how a real man can please a woman.”

Peter whined, and you sighed as you rolled your hips, rubbing your clit up against Stephen’s fingers.

“Come on, sweetheart…” He was almost purring, and when he nipped your earlobe you squeaked. Planting your feet on the floor and one hand on his knees, you raised yourself up, reaching between your thighs for his length. You swirled his tip around your folds, mixing his juices with yours. The hand on your breast moved up your body, resting lightly around your neck.

“Stop teasing…” His fingers pressed, slightly making you gasp.

You sank down.

“Oh God!” Your eyes rolled back into your head as Stephen filled you. How could one cock feel so different from another? Peering out from under your eyelids, you saw that Peter had leaned forwards, eyes trained on where you were being stretched wide. 

You made a tentative movement, lifting up slightly and then sinking back down, taking more of Stephen’s cock inside you. He hissed in your ear, and although you couldn’t see his face, you imagined that he was struggling with the sensations as well.

“How does it feel, darling girl? How does it feel to be fucking an older man while your boyfriend watches?”

“Good. So very good.” Your breath hitched as you moved again, riding Stephen harder, faster.

“Tell me. Tell me how I’m making you feel.”  His lips and facial hair tickled your neck as he kissed you, returning to pluck and pinch at your nipples as your breasts bounced and to swirl the fingers of his other hand around your clit.

“I…I feel so full. And– and so sensual. Desirable.” You sucked in a stuttered breath as you moved up and down. “I like that he’s watching me. Seeing how another man wants me. Can please me. It feels amazing. Oh!” 

Your second orgasm was fast approaching, and you knew it wouldn’t be as gentle as your first. Stephen’s cock was brushing over that sweet spot inside you, and the sheer eroticism of what you were doing was setting you aflame.

“Fuck! Stephen! Keep touching me, please. Oh God! Gonna cum. Gonna…”

Your body tensed as pleasure ripped through you like lightning, and you screamed. Without warning, Stephen rolled you both again so you were on all fours on the bed, and he was standing on the floor behind you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the supple flesh, and he started to fuck into you with abandon.

“Could he do this? Could that pathetic boy bring you this much pleasure? You need a man to slake your appetites, keep you satisfied. Maybe I’ll keep you? Turn you into my cumslut to fuck whenever I feel the urge. Take pictures of your beautiful face in the throws of ecstasy and send them to Peter?”

His words were a litany of filth, painting an erotic image in your brain of you lying fucked out and sated within these very sheets.

You came again, an explosive pleasure that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt wetness between your legs, and you realised you’d squirted for the first time.

“Yes!” Stephen growled in your ear before he was groaning out his own pleasure, pumping you full of his cum, bearing you down to lie flat on the bed as he continued to thrust into your pussy. You were aware of a small cry from the other side of the room, one that signalled Peter reaching his own orgasm as he watched the pair of you.

For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was that of three sets of lungs breathing heavily. Your eyes were closed, and you were warm from where Stephen lay half on top of you. When you heard a strange flapping noise you opened one eye to see the cloak hovering in front of you bearing a damp washcloth. You smiled and took the proffered item, feeling a bit silly when you muttered a quick ‘thanks’ under your breath.

Sitting up to clean yourself off, you started to feel slightly self-conscious. What was the etiquette now? Stephen shifted behind you, dropped a soft kiss to your shoulder and slipped off the bed, pottering around the room, out of your peripheral vision. Peter appeared in front of you, crouching down by the side of the bed.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Peter. It was…good. I hope that’s okay with you?”

He grinned at you, his boyish features alight.

“More than okay. I can’t wait to get you home.” You chuckled at his enthusiasm. You were sure that he was still half-hard inside his damp jeans.

“Calm it, you crazy kids.” Stephen was dressed now, or at least partially, and the cloak had your clothes gathered up, depositing them into your grasp. “Let’s get you two home.”

He started to move his hand in a circle, opening a portal from his room directly into yours. When it was stable he took your hand in his and dropped a small kiss to your knuckles.

“I had a wonderful time, darling girl. If the pair of you ever want to repeat this, I would be more than happy to oblige.” You felt the heat spreading up your throat and across your cheeks at his statement. “Oh, and Peter - treat this young lady right. I haven’t decided if I was entirely joking when I talked about stealing her from you.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @sheismarvelousworld @strangeprincex

[peachsunset]

People you'd like to get to know better

Thank you for the tag @fugitivehugs! I'm so bad at remembering to do these even when I really want to, but I'm trying to be better!

Three ships: Feeling kind of nostalgic for some of my older ships so I'll say Ulquihime (Bleach), KakaObi (Naruto), and Fakriu (Princess Tutu)

First ship: Hmm this is kind of tough to remember but it was probably something like Ash/Misty from Pokemon or Sailor Moon/Tuxedo Mask

Last song: Warrior of the Mind from Epic: The Troy Saga

Favorite color: Honestly it varies but I guess right now I'd say pink, especially dusty rose and peachy pink, but I like a good hot pink too!

Currently watching: The One Piece anime with my sister! We're currently at Drum Island

Last Movie: Watching Renfield at this very moment (oh hey! they just mentioned tumblr)

Currently reading: In the middle of reading Coraline

Sweet/savory/spicy: Definitely a savory girl! Given the choice between a sweet and savory snack I'm almost always craving savory, and I'm a wimp who can only handle mild to medium spice

Currently consuming: Ok not eating it right this second but the last thing I ate was a homemade fried chicken sandwich I made for dinner

Currently craving: A burger and fries from Steak'n'Shake sounds really good right now

Relationship status: Happily single

Last web search: "Mentor etymology" bc of the above mentioned song which is about Athena. I thought I remembered the term mentor originating from her and the Odyssey and wanted to double check (it did)

Currently working on: About to start working on some Halloween crafts! Got these little wooden silhouette lanterns from the craft store to paint

Tagging: I'll tag @ann-oyingmuch @nightcrow712 @lastoneout @stresslitzia @goldensunset @luanna801 and @strawberryhoneycomb but no pressure/feel free to ignore if you don't feel like it!

[shamera]

nano day 3

don't ask i'm definitely not proud

but at least i did some

This time, it was the star anise that was missing. 

Li Lianhua clicked his tongue at the missing ingredient, brows furrowed as he studied the array out on the counter already. They were out of chilli oil, and somehow each time this happened, there was an ingredient missing to delay Li Lianhua in making more. 

It couldn’t be helped, not when Fang Duobing continued to loudly and vehemently disparage Li Lianhua’s choice in spices whenever the young man made his way into the kitchen. It just meant that Li Lianhua had greater motivation to try even stranger dishes, and make sure to feed it to the others. 

Su Xiaoyong peered around him to take the empty containers, and gave it a sniff. 

“Star anise?” She guessed, and then brightened. “Does Fang Duobing think he can stop us by stealing ingredients? Well, I brought some with me! Don’t worry, Li-dage, I have my own pouch of herbs and spices we can use, and we can make sure dinner is extra spicy for him!”

Around them in the outdoor kitchen, the morning dew was still drying on fresh leaves, barely budding from branches after the harsh winter started giving way mere days ago. The weather was cool enough for them both to be in thicker cloaks, although the winter clothes were traded for something lighter to account for the warmer air and the fires keeping the kitchen warm with bubbling dishes. 

The visiting young woman set down the pestle and smoothed down the pale green of her dress before declaring, “I’ll go get it. Be right back!”

Her footsteps were quick and nearly silent, covered by the sounds of birds in the morning. If not for her bright greeting to Di Feisheng halfway down the path, Li Lianhua might have missed the footsteps coming up at the same pattern, camouflage in the sound of Su Xiaoyong’s steps. 

Instead, he collected the dried peppers and garlic, portioning them out as diligently as he would medicine. 

“Cooking this early in the morning?” Di Feisheng’s voice asked as the man stepped into the outdoor kitchen. “You said it was too cold in the mornings to do so just yesterday.”

“Xiaobao will be back from his latest case today.” Li Lianhua said, and heard the amused huff of air behind him. 

“...We’ll be having a strange dinner, then.”

Turning, Li Lianhua pointed a ladle at the man. “You’ve never complained!”

“Why would I? Food is food.”

It had taken months, nearly a year, before Di Feisheng would voluntarily eat Li Lianhua’s cooking, although he claimed it wasn’t the taste of it that was off putting. The man willingly ate everything put in front of him, once he could actually be coaxed into eating something other than plain rice or plain vegetables or plain meat. 

Seasoning, Li Lianhua found, was not something Di Feisheng cared for. It hid the taste of whether food was fresh or rotten, whether it was tampered with or not. It had taken months before the man willingly reached for one of Li Lianhua’s stranger dishes, an experiment on combining sour and salty that even Fang Duobing (who complained and complained but in the end usually ended up eating the most) would not touch. 

Once that happened, Di Feisheng became the one to finish off the plates that others wouldn’t touch, although he did prefer to fight Fang Duobing on the tastier dishes on a weekly basis. 

This time around, Li Lianhua planned on seasoning fish with hot oil— but rather than the ginger and salted scallions in oil, wouldn’t it be more flavourful to use chilli oil instead? He could, of course, include the ginger and salted scallions in chilli oil as well, and maybe this time Fang Duobing wouldn’t make ridiculous faces at the dish. 

That was, however, unlikely. 

Li Lianhua hesitated over a jar of dried herbs. It wasn’t something that was usually added as a food ingredient, but it was medicinal and good for the body… 

“You should add it,” Di Feisheng said, as if reading his thoughts. “It can’t hurt.”

There was a mild undertone of amusement colouring the words, and Li Lianhua gave a considering hum before agreeing, emptying the jar out into the wide mortar. If Xiaobao was going to complain about the taste anyway, might as well make it slightly better for him. 

“Here,” Li Lianhua offered his spot to Di Feisheng, who took up the pestle, “I’ll get started on the oil.”

They worked together in silence for some time before Su Xiaoyong came back with a small folded packet of spices. She lifted a hand to her nose as she got close, fingers under her nostrils as she grimaced. 

“Why is the scent so sweet?” She asked, “We haven't used any of the star anise yet.”

Sweet was good, right? That was the point of the star anise, and if they hadn’t managed to get any of that, then… 

“Is that vernal grass? That shouldn’t—”

But Di Feisheng continued to grind, expression blank even as Su Xiaoyong tried to shove herself between him and the mortar and pestle. “What of it?”

“It’s far too potent!” The young woman insisted, but then slumped when she realised she was already too late, and the grass had made itself a paste-like consistency amongst the other dried ingredients. “It’s going— it’s going to taste like grass—”

“Help me with the pan,” Li Lianhua said instead, distracting her as he went to pull out the small straw mat used for drying peanuts. She looked over his way, expression brightening at the thought of roasted peanuts. 

This was the scene Fang Duobing arrived at, hours later when the sun was high in the sky and the temperature warmed enough that all three cooks discarded their cloaks over the back of a wooden chair. 

The young man was dressed in several formal layers, embroidered blue robe underneath a gauzy layer that denoted his noble status alongside the silver-edged accessories and dyed leather bracers and belt. He still wore his hair in a high ponytail, although his bangs now brushed lower to be brushed back behind his ears. 

Li Lianhua imagined that the young man would complain about the mixture of scents, the amalgamation of different fragrances coming from the stove off-putting to even himself, although he remained rather stoic about it. Su Xiaoyong, on the other hand, had long since decided to tie a rag across her face, although she still seemed pleased to be there with him. 

Perhaps it was petty to raise such a reaction with Fang Duobing, but Li Lianhua found it a nice tradition for when the man came home again, and he— 

“Su Xiaoyong,” Fang Duobing said, no hint of having registered the smells at all. He looked exceptionally grim, holding onto a letter in his hands. “You’ve got news.”

— 

Su Xiaoyong excused herself after reading the letter, her normally bright and cheery exterior falling into something serious and blank, lips turned downward in upset. 

“So?” Di Feisheng asked after Fang Duobing wrested control of the ladle away from Li Lianhua, who did not give much resistance after they all fell quiet. The young man banked the fires, jaw tense as he settled all the boiling sauces. 

“There’s been an incident.” Fang Duobing confirmed, and then shook his head. “The last case went fine, but I received word after of an assassination attempt on Lord Su. He’s been moved from his estate for his own safety, and is likely requesting that his granddaughter join him. No one knows who did it, and no one knows why.”

“Lord Su is knowledgeable.” Li Lianhua said. “It’s likely he learned something he should not have.”

“Maybe.” Fang Duobing agreed. “Someone could want to kill him for that knowledge. But we don’t know what he knows, which means we have no leads on who it might be.”

They moved from the kitchen to an attached pavilion, away from the smoke for a fresh breeze, and Li Lianhua sat with a satisfied sigh. His knees had been particularly irritable lately, but he didn’t want to draw attention to his still healing body. So long as the present was an improvement from a season previous, it seemed a null point to complain. 

Di Feisheng sat opposite, while Fang Duobing settled next to him. 

“What if they know—?” Fang Duobing murmured, but Li Lianhua shook his head to stop him. 

“Why would anyone care about the identity of a failed poet?” Li Lianhua asked. “Lord Su has far more dangerous knowledge in his home and his books. Has there been anything he learned recently which might threaten anyway?”

“I don’t keep track of that,” Fang Duobing admitted. “Miss Su might.”

There was a good chance Su Xiaoyong might not know, with the time she spent visiting Yunji Pavilion in recent months. It hadn’t been too long since Madam Qin finally allowed long-term visitors since the past years Li Lianhua had still been too sickly to entertain. True to form, however, Su Xiaoyong wheedled her way into visiting as often as she could, bringing along with her presents and compliments until Madam Qin smiled and preened at the young woman’s presence. 

(“This place could do with a woman’s touch for things I am too old to maintain,” Shiniang told him the last time he had been feverish and bedbound, patting his hand placatingly between her mending. “You young man help care for this place plenty, but you haven’t the eye for things the way women would.”) 

“If she knew,” Li Lianhua said, “she may be a target as well.”

There was no need to target Su Wencai for fame or money, not when the scholar was well-known to be quite modest in wealth and demeanour. His greatest contribution was his mind and library of knowledge in his brain. 

Two years ago, the famed scholar took a trip with his granddaughter to visit an ailing man, and between him and Madam Qin, they came up with a new identity for Li Lianhua, one that would escape the interests of the imperial court for just how simple it was. Qin Huahua would be the wayward son of Madam Qin, a failed poet who studied under Su Wencai for a time before returning home to support his ageing mother. Li Lianhua had written terrible poetry and limericks until his hand ached for Lord Su to take back with him, using as evidence of a student that might have resided with the usually secluded scholar on and off for a period of years. 

With the discrete help of Yang Yunchun, they managed to rustle up official documentation papers just a bit altered for Li Lianhua. He had yet to use the identity, although that was only because Li Lianhua had yet to leave Yunji Pavilion for any amount of time outside of some walks through the mountain searching for herbs. 

Instead, for the past two years Yunji Pavilion opened to a variety of guests, the public reasoning being that Madam Qin was giving martial arts advice for those who sought her out, and unofficially so that those in the know could visit and assuage their worries over Li Lianhua’s steadily improving health. It had taken almost four years since the Styx flower, but he felt far healthier than he had toward the end. 

“I sent inquiries to Tianji Hall,” Fang Duobing admitted as he reached within his bag to bring out three bright persimmons, setting two on the table and taking out a short knife to deftly slice the last one into long slices, the inside barely starting to soften into ripeness. Di Feisheng took one of the ones on the table and bit into it, not caring to so much as brush off the surface. “So far no one knows why anyone would target Lord Su. He’s been on good terms with— everyone, really. No new trade treaties, no abnormal source of income, no recently learnt secrets.”

Fang Duobing hesitated a second, then continued to slice, “Apart from you, that is.”

With that, he handed Li Lianhua one of the slices. 

“Then it has to do with us?” Di Feisheng asked. 

“I don’t know,” Fang Duobing said. “And I don’t like it. Whether it does or not, it might be best if we don’t stay here for the time being. If Lord Su was attacked, then I don’t want to bring trouble to Yunji Pavilion. I’d rather no one even found out about this place.”

Li Lianhua didn’t respond to that, occupying himself with the winter fruit. It was true that it wouldn’t do to bring trouble to Yunji Pavilion, yet it was also heavily defended and one of the safest places in the world. 

Fang Duobing handed him another slice after he finished the first, the young man’s brows furrowed in thought even as he refrained from eating as of yet. 

“I know where to go.” Su Xiaoyong’s voice called out from a distance away. Li Lianhua lifted his gaze to see the young woman halfway across the courtyard, complexion wan in the bright sunlight. She walked toward them, each step purposeful and determined. Despite the shock prior, her back was straight and her head held high. 

Normally, Fang Duobing would turn up his nose at her presence, a gesture mirrored by Su Xiaoyong herself in a childish rivalry and lead to the both of them competing heavily in almost everything either of them did, whether it be cleaning dishes or carrying heavy loads. Li Lianhua thought it was rather sweet that the two got along so well, even if both denied it vehemently. 

Now, Fang Duobing only said, “You should stay here. No one knows you’re here.”

Su Xiaoyong made her way over to the table and slapped her palms down on it. “You’re sure about that? Grandfather didn’t leave much information, but he’s told me a little about the exchange of information in the jianghu, and if there’s information about potential assassins that Tianji Hall and Baichuan Court has no knowledge of, then there’s one more place to look.”

Fang Duobing gave her a flat look, more reminiscent of their usual antics. He gave Li Lianhua a third slice, despite him not being finished with the second. “The Imperial Court doesn’t keep tabs on the jianghu like that. If they did, they’d go to Tianji Hall.”

“Not the court.” She said, and jabbed at the table with a finger. “And not somewhere any of us have been before. It’s Hongling Garden.”

Fang Duobing scoffed. “That’s a children’s tale.”

“It’s not! It’s a base for assassins, but, look,” Su Xiaoyong snatched the last of the persimmons, prompting Fang Duobing to make an offended noises in protest. “I know where it is. I asked grandfather a long time ago, and he told me I shouldn’t go there unless there was life or death knowledge that I needed. And now he tells me that I can’t come home, and that he doesn’t know what’s going on but he also can’t leave where he’s at.”

She took a large bite of the persimmon, chewing angrily and swallowing before adding, “So I’m going to figure this out myself! Someone is targeting my grandfather, and he doesn’t know who or why, and if this person finds him, they might try again and this time succeed. This is a matter of life and death to me, and I’ll go myself if I have to.”

“Take that sworn brother of yours with you.” Di Feisheng suggested, both helpful and not. 

“Guan-xiong has been busy with a long-term patient lately.” Su Xiaoyong admitted, shoulders slumping. “And if I take him, they’ll know who I am immediately. So this time…”

She pointed the bitten persimmon at Fang Duobing. 

“I’ll need your help!” She claimed, and then scrunched up her nose as if she couldn’t believe what she just said. “At least. Fang Duobing, I need you to lend me your reputation.”

“For what?” The young man exclaimed, frowning. “You have your own!”

“Oh, don’t fuss.” She told him. “You’ll like it as much as I hate it.”

HuaHua as in 嘩嘩, not flower. I wanted a homonym, so I went with 'the sound of flowing water' Hongling Garden, as 紅嶺園 I got lazy here, so it's Red Ridge Garden.