#but I die a little more inside with every update

[fuckme-shit]

It's devastating to love someone you can never have. Even more devastating to know they will be endlessly happy without you.

[shaisuki]

❝ SOME EFFORTS. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. mentions of past abuse.

NOTES. got sidetracked by requests and i didn't really put up with this chap. apologies. i swear i only update when someone asks if i'm still continuing this fic.

SYNOPSIS. the awaited date and some memories ruins it for you.

the bistro was filled with numerous chatters. coming from patrons and customers alike. conversations over good food and the small laughter coming from them. surrounded by the warm glow of the lights like sun rays but more subdued. hitting the wooden interior with its soft light. creating a more laid-back atmosphere where everyone can wine and dine.

you were still on guard. geto sees how you scanned the room more than twice. avoiding eye contact at him and twiddling your fingers in the smallest of manner. he knows you were still wary of him. a bully or a former bully. it sets a bitter taste to his tongue. the knowledge of being one of your tormentors and realizing it later in life how he deeply regretted for hurting you.

he's not his former self anymore. he tells to himself. this date where you reluctantly accepted after many times of convincing you. saying that he'll make up all the years of the misery he caused. proving to you that he's no longer that person who causes you tears and pain but is it when he sees you. sitting across from each other with your gaze who couldn't even look at him and your withdrawn hands not making it nearer to where his rests.

“look at me.” there's tinge of authority in his voice but gentle when he spoke to you. it was like coaxing you to go outside of your box. “can't we unless talk?” rich coming from him who can make you say the filthiest of words while he used to torment you.

“i guess.” you briefly muttered. gathering every nerve to your body to look at him and you die a little bit inside how similar his eyes to his. a complete copy of him but you shake the thoughts. it was just you and him. “thank you for taking me out here.” your eyes briefly landing at the small frame pinned at the door.

a bit distracted and intimidated. gripping your cup filled with tea to prevent from squirming to much. it's not like everyday your former bully would invite least asks you for date. you were reluctant of course but geto is persistent to get what he wants and it earned you.

he picks good. the place didn't scream high-end or some posh place that their menus didn't have a price and the bill ending up as a month's worth of salary.

a ghost of a smile etched in his face at your response. there it is. what he has been waiting for. geto can't help but to admire you. the same round face that used to look at him. there's the softness in it and something new. perhaps determination? he can guess but nonetheless it isn't the time to guess what you're made of now. you've changed just like he is.

before any of you can continue, the waiter arrived with the food you both ordered. placing the plates in front of you and bids you both to have a nice meal.

you began to eat. taking a spoonful of the food and chewing softly. surprised that you managed to work an appetite despite how guarded you feel around him. “you and gojo fucked me up, literally and metaphorically.” you paused in between bites before continuing. “but you two never made me feel bad about eating. i'm kind of glad for that.”

shrugging as you placed your utensils down. taking sip of your beverage. your relationship with food was kind of rocky around in the edges. you never ate in public. afraid of the stares and judgement that strangers give to you when eating and never in front of someone. let alone as cruel as gojo and geto. surprisingly they never made you feel bad about it and encouraged you to eat with them when they're particularly in a good mood. often going as far hand feeding you.

you didn't beat around the bush and geto applauded you for that. it often got you in trouble when you talked back and defy them when you won't do a particular thing they want you to. they were such an asshole to you. “you look happy when you eat. simple gestures like that is hard to come by.”

pouring the creamer in his cup of coffee and adding two sugar cubes. geto stirs it with a spoon. he finds you looking at it. his large hand dwarfing the cup and it was like a teacup rather than a coffee cup.

“is it?” pausing and trying to sink in what he said. somehow your lips curved into a smile. it was rather a pained one. “and you, gojo would take pleasure in hurting me afterwards.” now, you killed the mood. the food gone bland in your mouth. feeling like your eating nails. the memories came flooding and it just made you ache in places. a phantom pain.

putting down your utensils down. your appetite's lost. everything's heavy now just like it was in the first time.

geto freezes at your words. it was like a punch in his gut. you were still stuck at that time but you never made it seem like it affected you and you were doing it just to make thing seems right. for his own comfort.

a pang of guilt hits in his chest. seeing you hung your head low and blinking back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. he hears you mutter an apology.

he stands up. grabbing the back of his chair and placing it besides you. “hey, it's fine. it was never your fault.” he says, holding your cheek in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “it's been years, sugu. why does it still hurt?” you asked him. peering through your blurred vision of tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. you could have pushed him. recoiled at his touch and when you leaned in. giving up to his touch — you asked yourself why? and you understand it. why some people come back even though they were hurt by the same person and you weren't any different from them cause the best comfort will always come to the one who had hurt you the most.

a stray tear rolls down your cheek. suguru was quick to wipe it with his thumb gentle. cradling your face in his one hand. he looks at you and there wasn't any emotion shown in his face except for the conflicting emotions inside him. pain? guilt? and new emotions he never felt mixes with it and the more he stays with you, the more he feels all of it.

geto wasn't anything remorseful for what he had done. he and gojo had their fun playing around with you and what happened after that night — you disappearing without a trace and shoko's warnings that they shouldn't interfere with your life anymore despite the circumstances that you were working for both of them.

he did fucked you up and reduced you to this mess. the younger him would relish over it but seeing your tear-stained face. he felt worst. everything since you came back is forced. always driving you to a corner and if he really wants to build his relationship with you again. he have to change and he's willing to make it.

the weather's warm. with the slight breeze of wind sweeping throughout the park. the scent of the sakura blossoms wafts in the open air. after that little breakdown of yours earlier. geto decided that you need a breath of fresh air and the park is where he took you.

both of you remained silent. you in the most part. embarrassed at the sudden burst of emotions and thinking that you ruined the supposed date. “i'm sorry.” you softly muttered. glancing at the man besides you.

strands of his hair danced along the rhythm of the wind. he only hums. slowly inching his hands towards you. holding your hands in his. “don't apologize.” reveling in the softness of your hands in his and suguru's mind drifts for a minute. marveling at the sight of your hand in his. if things were just normal and he pursued you in a much kinder approach — is this how you two will be? except for the part where he's the reason why you suffered at his hands.

“i shouldn't have said that.” meeting his gaze and you suddenly felt bothered. “you were making it up to me and i ruined it.” blinking and biting your lower lip in guilt. you should have never brought it up.

geto sighs. he swipes his thumb in your knuckles. the gesture sweet and intimate with gentleness in their touch. “you didn't ruin it. i should thank you for accepting that date. it was pleasant to talk to you about things.....” his words trailed off. referring to what happened three years ago.

you only nod.

“can we start again?” your former bully eyes widened at your suggestion. “no talks of the past and all? just us two adults as friends?” and you have that effect on him. geto isn't easily swayed. it was the opposite he's the one that should be doing this and here you are.

there is no need to know what was his answer. it was a yes. without hesitation.

it was hard to tear his gaze off away from you. despite the earlier dilemma of your sudden outburst everything was going fine after that. you were just eating but why do you look so alluring. your cheeks puffing up in a manner while you ate.

“is something the matter, sugu?” pausing to glance at him and he reached to wipe the cream in the corner of your lip before licking it off with his tongue. your face burns in embarrassment at what he had done before looking away. clutching the hem of your sweater and ignoring the sudden rise of your heartbeat. face warming at the gesture.

geto chuckles at your reaction. his eyes narrowing and his pupils dilating. it is known that there is still the attraction lingering in your body after all the years you're away from them. too used to their touch that your own responds without the will coming from you.

it's going to be sweeter this time pursuing you.

gojo was running impatient.

he has been waiting all day. wondering what happened to the date suguru had scored with you and he did get the full detail of it. geto smirks triumphantly in front of him and gojo felt an annoyance towards him.

“she won't even glance at me, suguru.” he sighs exasperated. running his hand in his hair out of frustration.

“she knows you're in a committed relationship. you're engaged and to sayuri. don't compare (y/n) to your ex-flings and sayuri. she won't do anything that would jeopardize a relationship because of her.” geto explains. he knows all of it. girls didn't care about the others when they really liked someone and when he got the gist of you working under satoru. he quite abandoned the thought of other women. fully commiting to you. trying to get back to your life and make you his.

gojo scoffs. “what's your plan, suguru?” his blue eyes glinting behind his glasses. there's been change of plans. he's not going to woo you anymore. he's going to pursue you.

“nothing really.” he lied. “i know (y/n)'s going to give in to me. anytime if i played my cards right. you should know we're not the only men in her life. we don't know what really happened to her life the last three years.” he didn't lie on that part. geto knows someone in your life is trying to also pursue you. one that you owed deeply.

his friend remained silent. taking a long sigh before going back to his desk. he can hear the cogs running in his brain right now. he's out of it and he just can focus to you and only you. he didn't need to drag his ass to gojo even it was planned from the start that they would have you.

guess he's not sharing you to him.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej@0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

[totaly-obsessed]

Omg omg omg i have an idea

r is the team baby and mapi is like a big sister to her

it’s gameday and mapi always braids readers hair before a match, but with mapis injury, she can’t do it. So Aitana takes the role of being your big sister and helps you with everything,

Changes

Barcelona Femení x reader request

-> With Mapi injured, your usual plan gets changed

-> Very short! I hope you like it - was very fun to throw something quick and small together

-> Little pt.2 - On the Road

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was weird.

Ever since joining the team last season, Mapi had been a constant in your everyday life, and one day to the next, she was gone. She didn’t die, duh, but she was injured. And while a lot of people on the team injured themselves or sometimes just had to sit out – never Mapi.

She had taken you under her wing as soon as she saw you, but her plan of making you her accomplice didn’t work, as you were much too introverted to embarrass yourself in public like she intended to do.

Ingrid had always just scoffed at her girlfriend whenever she had sent you on a wild goose chase for something completely made up, while Maria would laugh at you. The Norwegian was always quick to solve the mysteries, pressing soft kisses on your forehead whenever you got annoyed, ignoring her girlfriend until she stopped.

While everyone on the team was great friends, even a family, the relationship between you and Mapi was just different and everybody knew that – which is also why everybody could see just how much it affected you that your favorite defender wasn’t there. Especially when you were in the starting eleven.

Ingrid had religiously been updating her girlfriend, reassuring her that you were in fact totally fine and not freaking out. But you weren’t fine.

The girls tried to help where they could – Lucy and Keira had picked you up from home, Pina sat next to you on the bus (Patri and Ona behind you, making for a very funny ride), Jana and Bruna had made you a new playlist that you were all listening to and Alexia did what she did best – she observed and helped when needed.

In the changing room, most things took their natural course as every girl had their slightly different routine and needs before a game.

You were so incredibly nervous. Making the starting eleven was big, especially for a club like Barcelona, but the team for the day was quite experienced, calming you down just a little. Esme looked just as nervous as you, she was a striker alongside you, making for a very young frontline.

Aitana saw you brushing your hair again and again and again, just to do absolutely nothing with it, just patting your own head in a calming manner. After three minutes she took pity – remembering that your older sister figure wasn’t there.

“No need to rip out hair Cari. Let me do it.”

The entire team had affectionally started to call you Cari in your first season – it was short for cariño, and you loved it.

As still as humanly possible you sat in your cubby, letting the ballon d'or winner do her thing, sometimes handing her a brush, a ponytail holder, or a bobby pin.

“I can’t do it like Maria, so I did something else. Do you like it, Cari?” She indeed had done a different hairstyle, but it was still braided out of your face and it looked cute.

“It’s perfect Tana, thank you!” The brunette couldn’t help but smile, seeing you come to life just a little more after such a simple action from her. In thanks you kissed her cheek, squeaking when Sandra poked you into your side, making all three of you laugh.

“Let me help you with your shirt.” The goalkeeper didn’t even wait for an answer, helping you tuck your shirt inside of the shorts – just like Mapi would do for you. “Thank you!”

Now you felt much more prepared and ready to take on FC Rosengård.

Walking in, instead of a mascot's hands you were holding Lucy’s who smiled at you so brightly that you couldn’t be sad anymore. “You’ll do her proud kid – don’t worry.”

The Brit had indeed been right. Mapi had been close to tears sitting next to Frido in the stands, as you scored an amazing goal in the second half, dedicating it to her, as you sprinted over to where they sat, pressing a kiss to your palm, and practically throwing it at her.

“Look at my sister!”

[bookofthegear]

Long, long ago, before Twitter descended into its end-stage hellscape, I ran a few iterations of a weird little choose-your-own-adventure game there, where I used the poll functions to offer options as we traversed a strange concrete labyrinth. I’d like to do that again. But as the shortest poll I can run is one day, this is more like a play-by-mail than a real-time on-the-fly. Fewer choices, but hey, you do get much longer descriptions!

The Rules

- Your choices are by majority poll (though if there are two identical options, they may be weighed together)

- If y’all choose to do something boneheaded, you WILL die, and the game will begin again with a new adventurer (who may someday find your corpse!)

- If y’all choose to retire and raise cabbages, by god, I will send you home to raise cabbages, which is sort of a happily ever after

- If you played on Twitter, please be kind and don’t spoiler too hard for the new players! Also, don’t assume the maze is still the same…

- Life being what it is, I cannot promise every update will land as soon as the poll closes—I love you guys, but y’know

Let’s begin, shall we?

You, friend, are the latest graduate of the Wentworth School Of Exploration and Adventure (Goooo Fighting Codfish!) the second-best explorer’s school in the city. You left behind your grandmother’s cabbage farm in pursuit of higher, better, possibly more fatal things.

It was at Wentworth that you first came across a reference to the works of Eland the Younger, that wandering naturalist, historian…okay, occasionally out-and-out liar…and his great fragmentary work, the Book of the Gear. It detailed his descent into a great clockwork labyrinth, filled with strange creatures and stone gears. Even for Eland, it’s a bit weird. Most scholars dismiss it outright as a fabrication, and the few professors who would talk to you about it strongly suggested that it was dangerous and you should ignore any rumors about its location and do something else. (Possibly on one of their projects! For course credit, obviously, not money.)

You didn’t listen. It was all just more academic cabbages as far as you’re concerned. It took a lot of research and guesswork and a lot of slogging, but after cutting your way through the overgrown woods, miles from any town, you find yourself standing before a stone wall with an immense crack in it. The edge of a stone gear taller than a man is just visible inside.

A small finch sits on a branch nearby, waiting.

Wentworth students are highly trained in the arts of adventuring, including Hiking, Skulking, Orienteering, and deciphering avian interpretive dance. Which brings us to the first question!

[perfectlyoongi]

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who has been tying your shoelaces since you were little. Yoongi still had that image in his mind of you crying in the rain because you tripped over your shoes and got all wet. since that day, Yoongi has always made a point of tying your shoes before leaving the house. and now, even though you were adults with separate lives, Yoongi couldn’t control his habit whenever you slept at each other’s houses. “wait, you still need to tie the laces. you can fall, you know that. nevermind, i don’t mind bending down. it’s not like this is my first time.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still intimidates any suitor of yours. when you were just 5 years old, Yoongi remembered how that boy who bothered you so much started running away when he saw Yoongi picking you up from school. since then, Yoongi has made it his personal mission to fend off any and all suitors you might have. he was your older brother. somehow, he always looked out for you. and Yoongi guaranteed that he would continue to take care of you, no matter how old you were, no matter how many suitors you had. if they really wanted you, they could put up with an intimidating Yoongi for a few minutes. “oh? are you really sure you want to bring your new friend to lunch? well, if it’s just a friend, i’m okay with it. but if it’s something else…”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still cooks lunch for you whenever you need. if you asked Yoongi, he would say he only learned how to cook so he could make your favorite dishes. during school, Yoongi always woke up early to cook for you, making a point of giving you something tasty and attractive — it was already his habit. so when you spent the night at his house or when you couldn’t waste time making lunch, Yoongi would show up at your work or doorstep with a small lunch box filled with your favorite lunch. after so many years, he still knew you. “your message was full of typos. i knew right away that you were late, that’s why i cooked this to you. it’s your favorite, i hope you like it. oh, and i also brought you a piece of fruit. enjoy, minion.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who picks you up from work or school when it’s raining. every month, Yoongi had your schedule updated and posted on the wall of his studio, and when you were still busy and the rain became more and more intense, Yoongi would put everything on hold to pick you up. whether you worked next to him or studied on the other end of town, Yoongi always found the quickest route to you, to make sure you didn’t get caught in the rain or risk getting sick. “remind me how many umbrellas i’ve given you, and how many you’ve used. just to refresh my memory. it’s just that it’s becoming really old that i have to come and get you every time it rains.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who offers you something whenever he is with you. Yoongi was never good with words. and Yoongi was shy in his actions. but what Yoongi always did to show you that he liked you was something as simple as giving you a gift. a new book, your favorite ice cream, even a four-leaf clover he saw on the way home — no matter what. ever since you were little, Yoongi got used to giving you little souvenirs to calm your heart and this act seemed to never die, no matter how much time passed. he just wanted you to know how much he truly loved you. “there’s an origami stall back there. a lady is teaching children how to make various animals and her husband was selling some and i thought you would like this crane.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who is always willing to give you advice, or receive it. it was three in the morning and you had come home after a date and didn’t know if they were right for you? Yoongi was already accepting your call without realizing it. you just received two equally good job offers and don’t know which one to choose? Yoongi was already ready with a list of pros and cons. was Yoongi unsure of his new project? you were already inside his studio listening to his music. Yoongi didn’t know if he could hold on a little longer? you were already by his side reassuring him that he was loved. you or him, it didn’t matter. both of you gave and received in that mutual relationship of complicity. only Yoongi knew what was best for you. only you knew what was best for Yoongi. and that was enough. “i’m going for an interview now but as soon as i leave i’ll call you. it’s not supposed to take long, so you can think about what you really want to say and i’ll help you later. if you want, i can even write the message for you. i have to go. don’t make any stupid decisions before i get back!”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who looks at you with eyes full of pride just because you are you. watching you from afar only squeezed Yoongi’s heart. yesterday you were still a small child and today you were already signing the contract for your first job. time flew between your childhood and your adulthood, and all this time, Yoongi was watching you. you were such a pure, innocent child and managed to transform into this responsible, mature adult — only Yoongi knew how many heartaches it took to make you so grown up. “it seems like yesterday that i gave you a piggyback because you had hurt your knee on the slide. and now i’m inside your first apartment that you bought with your first job. you’re growing up too fast and i don’t like it. stop. stop right now.”

[revelboo]

Could we perchance get more Ironhide?

I love your writing btw, and can’t help myself from checking your blog every so often(every single day) for updates:) I live for this kinda stuff

Thank you!

Hold Me Down Pt 2

Ironhide x Reader

• Engine roaring, he accelerates and feels your head smack back against the headrest, getting flattened back into the driver’s seat. And there goes your calm, screaming your head off as he takes a turn too sharply. “I’d put your seatbelt on, darlin.’” He says, struggling not to crack up as you claw for it and fumble until you get it clicked in. Having a complete mental breakdown inside him.

• Feeling your heart racing, you dig your fingers into your thighs, afraid to touch the wheel as it freely spins and turns. This has to be one of those freaky self driving cars. Or it’s possessed by a demon just to punish you for your sins. As it’s deep laughter rumbles around you, you’re betting on the latter. “Please, I don’t want to die.” You moan as you get slung around when it turns again.

• Regretting your life choices, yet? Because this is the most fun he’s had in a long while. Listening to your caterwauling and begging, like music. Up until the blue lights flicker behind him with the angry woop of a siren. “Frag me,” he snarls, spotting the human cop car speeding after him. Because nope. He’s not getting impounded today as much as his little thief deserves to get thrown in jail for a timeout.

• Head craning to see the cop on demon van’s bumper, you almost start bawling as it accelerates again to leave the cop in the dust. And you’re thankful for the seatbelt as you get knocked around when he swerves down a side road. Risking whiplash as the tires scream around a curve and your head bangs against the side window.

• Fragging cop. Fragging human in his driver’s seat, too as you slump forward and he has to cinch down the seatbelt to keep your limp form off the wheel. Because now he’s well and truly fragged himself. He’d planned on just scaring you straight and dumping you on a side street babbling about possessed vans and too scared to try anything like that again. Thanks to that cop, everything’s gone sideways. And guilt won’t let him just dump you on the side of the road out here in the desert sun. Running through every swear he knows until he’s repeating himself, he gives up. Starts heading back to the Ark, hating himself and you, because he just saddled himself with a little thief without meaning to.

Previous

Next

[thatawkwardmoth]

I'm sorry but if you think Logan would be a bad dad or just straight up not care about his children, read the comics or watch X-Men evolution.

Yes, Logan is a brute and he's 'not nice' a lot of the time. But if you think that this man wouldn't raise Laura, Gabby, Jubilee and all his other little shitheads out in a cabin in Canada, far away from people (but close enough for cell service, he gets it Jubilee, please stop yelling in his ear about Instagram), you're dead wrong.

Gabby's room would have built in bookshelves and she'd have a killer treehouse outside, her bedframe would be hand carved wood with pieces meant to withstand her claw for a while. She'd have plushies and posters and whatever she wanted. Logan could go without food for a while just for her to get the things she liked. She could not go without food and neither could the rest of the shitheads. Yes, Laura is her main adult but Logan won't let Gabby have a lackluster childhood.

Laura's room would be covered. With whatever she wanted. Even if she changed her mind and redecorated a thousand times, it's her room. It's not a cell or some blank white room. She's not X-23. She's his girl, the Wolverine. She can have a small gym set up to train and keep her active, 100%. But she'll come to eat when called and won't overdo it, healing factor or not. Or Logan will lock the door and ground her. He keeps the porch light on for her every night, knowing sometimes she just wants to run, to stretch her legs and feel the freedom she has. He'll wait on the porch, beer in hand and offer her some food when she's back. Tell her Gabby's asleep and she's fine, like Laura can't hear her snoring. She's got his attitude and they butt head but he'll always be the first to remind her she's not an experiment. She can put up a hundred dumb posters and read a hundred dumb books that aren't educational, he doesn't care. He'll even listen with minimal grumbling.

Jubilee's room is more adult than her old one is. It's got a jack and jill bathroom that leads to Shogo's little nursery. It's not used very often, but it's got all the updated supplies, for her and the baby. She's got the whole lawn to use her powers and not deal with complaints (unless it's the people inside the house), a hand made playhouse for Shogo when he gets older. She's got it all, whenever she wants to just run away. Whenever she needs a vacation or just to come see him.

Kitty's got one too, it's not changed. She can be the Red Queen to Krakoa, the fearsome Shadowcat to others but she's still got a room at his cabin with pictures upon pictures lining the walls, plush X-Men toys bought with Jubilee to annoy them, little notes from Rachel and Illyana. It's like a piece of the old Shadowcat Logan refuses to let Kitty Kate get rid of. She's got her own bathroom so she stops phasing through the doors and walls of the other ones without knocking and she's got a little balcony for her plants to die on because she never remembers to water them and Logan also forgets even though he tries to remember.

Logan's got a room that he hardly ever uses. He finds the girls in it (and his sons sometimes) in it more than he is. His bed is the communal 'i had a nightmare but we're not talking about it' place. It's the only reason he's got a TV in there. To turn on whatever dumb thing they want to watch, even if he hates it, he'll sit through nine seasons. There are stickers on his dresser (on most things actually, Gabby's personal signature), a giant plush dog bed for Jonathan the Wolverine, multiple pillows he doesn't use but they do. He even made sure to buy a comfortable blanket set even though he doesn't care at all when it comes to himself. He's survived worse but if it brings them comfort, he's going that extra mile.

He's stunted emotionally and sometimes messes up but this cabin, the one he's fixed up and added onto, he knows he did right by them with this. But he refuses to fix the creaky steps or the painted light switches, the chipped tiles or the old decorations that he shoves in the attic. Those are the character the house has, memories he doesn't want to lose like he's lost so many before.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter VI

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: sorry for the major delay on this chapter everyone, I've been juggling a lot privately and professionally but I'll be back to regular updates over the course of the next week <3 also, just broke 20k with this update, woo!! summary for this chapter is: the art of self-sabotage. or, old habits die hard.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving/receiving), loss of virginity, dirty talk, shower sex, falling in love

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark @sadslasher13 (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

How could you let this happen? Be this stupid?

This is exactly what you didn't want, trying your absolute damnedest to bury your feelings for Bjorn deep, deep under the weight of denial and downplay but—you can't, no matter how hard you try.

You're fighting an increasingly losing battle, falling further every time Bjorn comes around, every time he fucks you and holds you in his arms after. Every time he apologizes for whatever mean things he said in front of the others just so he can keep up the appearances you so desperately wanted to uphold. Every time he tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers that everything's going to be alright when nothing about this remotely is.

And you cry every time he leaves, finding it harder and harder to hold it in each time he does, like he's taking another piece of your heart with him every time he goes, crying salt into your pillow as you hug it close to your naked chest in the hours after, until your sobs taper off into pathetic wet sniffles, dehydrated and drained like you’re grieving a loss that hasn’t yet come to fruition.

But it will—and that’s the crux of it isn’t it, because you know in your bones, in your soul that you’ll lose this just like you’ve lost everything else before, because you’ve learned early on that everyone, no matter how much you need them, will always, always, leave in the end.

It’s a tough pill to swallow but then again, the truth always is, so you do what you can to prepare for it, choosing to shatter the illusion of happiness yourself instead of waiting for it all to inevitably come crashing down around you, desperately hoping it won’t hurt as bad when you do.

A decision you come to after another night spent drinking in the quarry, most nights spent together spent drinking, alcohol the only thing that really takes the edge off after an incredibly long and difficult shift.

Slumped back into the camping chair you’re sitting in, the one that you’ve unofficially claimed as yours, you quietly watch the familiar dance of flames everyone was sitting around, finishing off the last of your beer while the others talked and laughed.

You’d been pretty quiet all night, barely contributing anything to the conversations happening around you, too busy in your own head contemplating how to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve found yourself in as you tossed the now empty glass bottle into some nearby bushes.

Usually you'd stop after three, never one to catch anything more than a buzz but tonight, tonight you wanted to get absolutely shit-faced, wanted to shut out all the white noise inside your head, if only for a little while.

So you go to get up, intent on grabbing another drink from the worn down cooler Navarro’s feet were propped up on when Bjorn’s voice made you freeze, asking, “needa refill luv?” from the other side of the pit, head whipping up so hard you almost threw it out.

He must’ve been watching you, had to have been for him to have immediately noticed you were out, your stomach fluttering wildly at the assumption, doing your absolute damnedest not to show it on your face, no matter how badly you want to hiss at Bjorn, “what the fuck are you doing—sit back down!!!” but, you don't. Can't. The words dying in your throat every time you went to say it.

With your eyes glued to him, you watched as he walked around the burning steel drum towards his sister, his shoulders slouched and his chin down, the confident swagger he usually carries himself with gone and been replaced with a level of uncertainty you're not used to, one that helplessly flashes you back to shy blue eyes unable to meet yours just before he sucked on your breasts or stretched you open on his thick fingers.

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling wetness starting to seep between them. Not the time.

Bjorn nudged Navarro’s feet off the cooler lid, totally ignoring the scowl his sister threw at him while her hand was cupped around the dying cherry of her cigarette she was trying to keep from going out, fishing another bottle of aspen beer from the half melted ice in the process.

He came to a stop in front of you, holding the drink out by the glass neck to take, giving a smile meant just for you, so warm it had you burning hotter than the kindling wood behind him as everything briefly dissolved around you, like the entire universe was made up of just you, him, and the space in between, the warmth he was wearing radiating throughout your chest.

It was incredibly tender and brief and all wrong, the moment interrupted when Rain cleared her throat beside you, bringing you crashing back down to reality.

More than enough to make you recoil—hard. The bottle you'd been mid hand off slipping from your grip and shattering onto the pebbled stones between his and your feet, splashing chilled lager across both of your pant legs.

Bjorn had sworn under his breath then, asking you things like, “fuck, ah’ ya alright?” and, “ya’ ain't hurt ah’ ya,’ darlin?’” but you’d barely heard, had tuned it all out as your gaze swung wildly around the lopsided circle your friends were huddled in, all eyes on you.

Whether from the beer or from Bjorn you didn't know—didn't want to know, feeling severely scrutinized under the weight of their collective stare, like they could see right through you, like they knew what you were hiding, causing you to shrink down low into your seat, line of sight trained on the freshly wet gravel as you snapped at Bjorn that you didn't want his fucking handouts.

You could see the lower half of Bjorn’s body go rigid from within your periphery, refusing to look up and meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find, of possibly seeing some of that blossoming affection you’d been feeling mirrored in his icy blues, waiting to let out the shaky exhale you’d been holding until he walked back to his seat.

No one commented on your bizarre little exchange, probably because they knew you were a flight risk, that you’d turn tail and run at the first sign of conflict—like you always did, which is why you forced yourself to stay, not wanting to raise any more questions.

After the bonfire had ended Bjorn, like most nights, found his way back to your apartment, a bit cautious to approach you in your bedroom, probably sensing the sour mood he'd inadvertently put you in, asking for permission to touch while he crawled into your bed to join you.

And now here you are, Bjorn grunting as he thrusts into you once, twice, three more times before he finishes inside the condom buried eight inches deep between your legs, hairline damp from exertion with his bangs sticking to his forehead in sweaty little peninsulas.

He leans down, the cool metal of his dog tags brushing up your bare chest while he does, to plant an incredibly tender kiss to your lips, smiling into it when he feels you reciprocate, going in for a slew of quick pecks the same time he lets go of the leg he’s still holding up, fingers dimpling the back of your thigh.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he grins a little wider, still a bit winded as he tries catching his breath, rolling off of you to lie flat on his back instead, covered in a fresh set of scratches trailing down from his shoulders to the base of his spine.

There's a beat of silence, only punctuated by the mingling of your heavy breathing slowly returning to normal and the systematic tick of your alarm clock on the bedside table next to your head, feeling Bjorn's hand find its way into yours down between your bodies.

Tears start to crease along your waterlines, rapidly fluttering your lashes to try and blink them away, to not draw Bjorn’s attention to how absolutely vulnerable you feel. This was a mistake. A big one. And not just tonight—all of it. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered filthy praise shared between you, closing your eyes for a moment, just long enough for you to work up the nerve and say, “we have to talk,” voice thick with thinly-veiled emotion.

Bjorn perks up at that, rolling onto his side as he sat up on his elbow, cheek resting on a loosely curled fist, the shitty stick and poke of the losing dice frowny face he has tatted on the back of his right hand, one of the many Navarro gave him when he was fifteen and they were both high as a kite while giggling quietly on the floor of his bedroom as to not wake their dad, upside down from this angle.

“Glad ya’ said sumthin’ princess,” he smiles a shy, tiny thing you aren’t used to, fighting the overwhelming urge to back out now, “cuz m’ pretty sure I feel tha’ same.”

You seriously doubt that, your suspicion sadly confirmed when he confesses, “I think m’ fallin’ fo’ ya,’” the same time you say, “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

More silence, except—this one says a hell of a lot more.

Your throat goes tight and painful, like you just swallowed shards of glass and poured salt into the resulting wounds, watching the smile on his face quickly dissolve, replaced by a pinched frown and the confused furrow of his eyebrows, sitting all the way up to stare down at you.

“Wha’?” He asks, so small and fragmented it feels like a knife stab to the chest having to hear it. Fuck, you knew it was going to sting,that you were in too deep by the time you realized you were falling for him, but you didn't expect it to hurt this bad, like you want to take it all back but you don't—you can’t, for your sake and his.

“I said,” you push through the acute ache, disguising your tone with something harsher, something hurtful, “we should stop seeing each other. It's just—not working out anymore.”

“M’ sorry but where in tha’ bloody fuck is this all comin’ from? I thought things wuz’ good between us,” he argues, using his hand to gesture between your body and his as you sit up against the headboard, pulling your blanket up over your chest so you aren't so exposed.

“Well, you were wrong. We just—we aren't meant for each other. We're only hooking up out of convenience and you know it,” you reinforce, unable to meet his eyes head on, just like the quarry, gaze trained on the worn comforter by his naked thigh.

Still, you're able to catch a glimpse of the confusion on Bjorn's face morph into utter annoyance, snapping at you to, “cut tha’ shit already.”

“Excuse me?” You bristle immediately, letting your anger temporarily eclipse your pain so you don't break down in front of him, “fuck you if you think I'm lying.”

“Oh, m’ sorry if m’ havin’ a hard time believin’ ya, but ya’ can't jus’ fake tha’ kinda chemistry. I'm willin’ ta’ bet it all on black ya’ felt it jus’ as much as I did.”

You can see desperation bleed into his eyes, hear it seep into his words, wavering like he's not so sure anymore but still trying to convince himself that he's right—and he is, you know in your bones that he is but he doesn't need to know that, muttering back, “what the fuck do you even know.”

His nostrils flare as a result, clearly offended by your statement, leaning in on his palm, fingers spread over your sweaty, wrinkled bed sheets, his gaze firmly transfixing itself on you, “‘scuze me? Ah’ ya’ tryna be daft on purpose?” not giving you any room to respond before he continues on.

“Listen—I can't speak fo’ ya,’ but I know wha’ I fuckin’ feel. D’ya really fuckin’ think I wanna feel like this?! Tha’ I wanted this ta’ happen? Course fuckin’ not. I don't get close ta’ people tha’ ain't mah’ family but then you. Ya’ came along an’—I neva’ intended ta’ get ta’ know ya’ at all. Yeah I thought ya’ wuz a total smokeshow when I first laid mah’ eyes on ya’ but I figured ya’ wouldn't stick around long with how bloody standoffish ya’ were, always lookin’ like ya' didn't wanna be there

“But then ya’ did. Ya’ did an’ we almost fuckin’ died so I opened up ta’ ya’ figurin’ we wuz both gonnas’ then ya’ let me touch ya.’ Let me inside ya,’ an’ I couldn't stop fuckin’ replayin’ it in mah' head tha’ night I slept ova’ at Kay an’ Tyler's. Had ta’ rub one out in tha’ bathroom an’ bite down on mah’ fuckin' fist like a hormonal tweener. I woulda been embarrassed if I wuzn't so fuckin' turned on.

“So I had ta’ go back fo’ a round two, see if it wuz jus’ a fluke but once I was fuckin’ ya again I couldn't stop, I wanted more every time, like a fuckin’ junkie lookin’ fo’ tha’ next fix, no matta’ how hard I tried resistin.’ But then I started ta’ notice otha’ things ‘sides tha’ face ya’ make when I make ya’ pussy weep around mah’ cock an’ ya' sing so pretty fo’ me,�� he says, face neutral and tone even despite how hot your cheeks are hearing that.

“Like how carin’ ya' ah’ fo’ tha’ othas’ despite actin’ like ya’ don't. Tha’ ya' had ta’ grow up fas’ as fuck an’ took it out on yaself’ instead o’ lashin’ out like an’ insecure prick. Like me. Tha' I thought I'd neva’ seen someone so fuckin' beautiful in all mah’ life when ya’d fall asleep befo’ me, even when ya’ wuz droolin’ on mah’ chest and snorin’ like one o’ them fuckin' minin’ drills. Tha’ I thought I could listen ta’ ya' horrendous singin’ in tha’ showa’ all day when ya’ woke up befo’ me. Tha’ I wanted ta’ call ya’ mine fo’ a fuckin’ while now.

An’ I know I wuzn't jus’ imaginin’ shit. I might be shit at expressin’ mah’ feelins’ but so ah’ you. Ya’ can’t convince me none o’ it wuz real.”

You consider trying to take it all back, while he’s still giving you an out, feeling like your heart’s been violently ripped out of your chest but you refrain from doing so, choosing to stand your ground, no matter how shaky the earth beneath you feels. You can’t afford to lose someone again, it’ll be better in the long run to ruin it now than to let life steal someone else away when you least expect it, when you can’t possibly handle any more heartbreak.

Finally meeting his eyes you force yourself not to flinch at the intensity of his gaze as they scrutinize you, like he can see right through you, feeling more exposed now than you did when he first got you naked.

“It wasn’t,” you insist, somewhat petulantly.

It’s his turn to roughly swallow at what you say, his confidence visibly waning in the slouch of his shoulders and the way he pulls back a little, the uncertainty of his words when you first confessed making a comeback—much stronger this time but still underscored by a level of defiance like he’s clinging on to some modicum of hope.

“So allat—allat really meant absolutely nuthin’ ta’ ya?’”

You know you have to inflict maximum damage, to crush any chance of making the same mistake twice, finding yourself leaning in like he did earlier to emphasize your point, not deviating away from devastated blue as you hiss, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

And that was all it took, watching how quickly Bjorn turned his back to you while he quietly yanked on his clothes, shoulders shaking in anger, in rejection—in defeat. He's hurting, it's more than obvious by the way his voice shakes, sounding like wet gravel as he croaks at you to, “have a nice fuckin’ life,” before storming out of your apartment, leaving you alone, the silence you once found comfort in when you were on your own bordering on unbearable now.

It's for the best, you reason, it's what needs to happen, you don't need to make this any harder than it already fucking is, finally allowing yourself to break down, as pained sobs rack your body, crying so hard you grab at your chest like you’re trying to open another airway, gasping between each tearful moan.

So, if this is really for the best—then why does it feel like the worst decision you’ve ever made?

[jocelynstacey]

100% Legally Sourced Media (Google Drive)

Here is a link for a whole bunch of movies, tv shows and more - https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/15yd2vLoCzlTDknjTgo965gCoAV8S0Emt

below is a list of the things currently on my google drive, I may add more and keep updating this list periodically as things get put on the drive.

Documentaries and Docudramas

A Very British Sex Scandal

Abused By My Girlfriend

Aids - The Unheard Tapes

Alex Brooker: Disability and Me

Bad Influencer - The Great Insta Con

Bowie - The Man Who Changed The World

Children of the Underground

Dancing for the Devil - The 7M TikTok Cult

Daughters of the Cult

Dinosaurs - The Final Day with David Attenborough

Dirty Pop - The Boy Band Scam

Driven - The Billy Monger Story

Escaping Polygamy

Escaping Twin Flames

Freddie Mercury - The Great Pretender

Frozen Planet

Frozen Planet II

Good Grief with Reverend Richard Coles

Hatton Garden - The Inside Story

Hell Camp - Teen Nightmare

I Am Not A Rapist

I Cut Off His Penis - The Truth Behind The Headlines

Ireland's Mother and Baby Scandal

Killing Patient Zero

Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath

Lewis Capaldi - How I'm Feeling Now

Liar: The Fake Grooming Scandal

Living Every Second: The Kris Hallenga Story

Lord Montagu

Mama's Boy

Matt Willis: Fighting Addiction

Murdaugh Murders - A Southern Scandal

Murder Among the Mormons

My Wife My Abuser - Captured On Camera

Pennywise - The Story of It

Planet Earth

Planet Earth II

Queen - Days Of Our Lives

Sacred Soil - The Piney Woods School Story

Sarah Everard: The Search for Justice

Scientology: Going Clear - The Prison of Belief

Soham: The Murder of Holly & Jessica

Stolen Youth - Inside the Cult at Sarah Lawrence

Strike - An Uncivil War

Strike! The Women Who Fought Back

Striking with Pride: United at the Coalface

Surviving Amber Heard

Take Care of Maya

The Bambers : Murder at the Farm

The Boys - The Sherman Brothers' Story

The Exorcist Untold

The Family

The Krays - The Mafia Connection

The Menendez Brothers

The Millennium Dome Heist With Ross Kemp

The Movies That Made Us

The Pembrokeshire Murders - Catching the Gameshow Killer

The Program - Cons, Cults and Kidnapping

The Times of Harvey Milk

Uprising

Waco - American Apocalypse

Warren Jeffs: Prophet of Evil

Wonders of the World I Can't See

Films

A Haunting in Venice

About a Boy

All of Us Strangers

Bad Tidings

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful Thing

Beetlejuice

Boy Erased

Boys Don’t Cry

But I'm a Cheerleader

Chocolat

City of Lies

Clue

Cool Runnings

Corpse Bride

Dallas Buyers Club

Dawn of the Dead

Death on the Nile

Deck the Halls

Die Hard

Dirty Dancing

Donnie Brasco

Downton Abbey

Edward Scissorhands

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fried Green Tomatoes

From Hell

Gone Girl

Gremlins

Hairspray

Handsome Devil

Heathers

Heathers - The Musical

Home Alone

Hot Fuzz

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

IT

Jaws

Jingle All The Way

Jumanji

Jurassic Park

Kill Your Darlings

Kindergarten Cop

Kinky Boots

Labyrinth

Legally Blonde

Legend

Les Misérables

Les Misérables: The Staged Concert

Little Women

Love Actually

Mean Girls

Milk

Minamata

Miracle on 34th Street

Murder on the Orient Express

Murdered for Being Different

Newsies

Oliver!

Philadelphia

Pirates of the Caribbean

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Prayers For Bobby

Pride

Pride and Prejudice

Red, White and Royal Blue

Rent

Scarface

Scream

Scrooged

Secret Window

Shaun of the Dead

Sister Act

Sleepy Hollow

Star Wars

Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

The Addams Family

The Amityville Horror

The Blair Witch Project

The Conjuring

The Craft

The Crow

The Exorcist

The Greatest Showman

The imitation Game

The Muppet Christmas Carol

The Nightmare Before Christmas

The Santa Clause

The Shawshank Redemption

The Sixth Sense

The Sound of Music

The Tourist

The Woman in Black

Three Men and a Baby

Three Men and a Little Lady

Titanic

Twister

Uncle Buck

Unicorns

West Side Story

What We Did on Our Holiday

White Christmas

Zola

Stand Up Comedy

Adam Hills

Chris McCausland

Chris Ramsey

Daniel Howell

Daniel Sloss

Dara O'Briain

Ed Byrne

Fern Brady

Greg Davies

John Bishop

Rhod Gilbert

Sarah Millican

Sean Lock

TV Shows

90210

Agatha All Along

Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled

Being Human

Bridgerton

Celebrity Race Across the World

Cuckoo

Daisy Jones and the Six

Deadwater Fell

Desperate Housewives

Doctor Who

Downton Abbey

Eyewitness

Fire Country

Good Omens

Good Trouble

Heartstopper

I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!

Interview with the Vampire

It's A Sin

Killing Eve

Looking

Mary & George

Midnight Mass

Missing You

My Family

My Wife and Kids

Nevermind the Buzzcocks

QI 

Queer as Folk

Shameless

Sky Med

Sleepy Hollow

Switched at Birth

Taskmaster

The Alienist

The Artful Dodger

The Clearing

The Couple Next Door

The Fosters

The Haunting of Bly Manor

The Haunting of Hill House

The Jetty

The Midnight Club

The Misinvestigations of Romesh Ranganathan

The Pembrokeshire Murders

The Perfect Couple

The Society

The Stranger

The Unofficial Science Of…

The Watcher

Torchwood

Under the Banner of Heaven

Under the Bridge

Virgin River

WandaVision

White House Farm

[its-actually-minicika]

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[bnnywngs]

Wei Wuxian is a good child. It's what every adult around him says, at least. If you ask for what he thinks, he'll say he's just doing his best to not be a burden.

At 13 years old, it's the first time he's been truly alone in his family house. His parents are always traveling somewhere, they used to bring him with them when he was little and didn't need to go to school, and Wei Wuxian still remembers those days with bitter fondness, but after he started school his guardian for a while was his grandma.

But now she's gone and his parents did not ask him if it was ok before they took off overseas once again. Although, his father did look a bit guilty.

"You're old enough, now, and you can cook, so it's fine for us." his mother said.

"If the school needs a guardian to sign a paper, our lawyer can do it, you just have to call him." his father forced a smile "Although he's going to visit you once a week. And we asked the neighbors to help, too."

"Oh! And your uncle Fengmian is going to look after you, too, ok?" his mother had no problems with smiling "We're going to do our best to come back more often."

"And you can always call us, ok?" his father looked at his wife's smile and suddenly his expression softened and his smile turned more real.

Wei Wuxian felt sick, but didn't say anything.

If they didn't want to stay, he wouldn't make them.

So, he tried his very best to live his life without complaining and with little to no tears. He smiled, laughed and joked around, trying to convince himself he was ok. That he was happy.

But sometimes, it was always too much for him and he felt negative emotions he tried with all his might to smother inside a deep box and kick to the back of his mind.

"Jealous." he said out loud "I feel jealous."

"What? Of who?" Jiang Cheng looked at him weirdly, as if doubting his words and thought he was crazy.

They were alone in the other boy's room playing video games before dinner, during one weekend Wei Wuxian was forced invited to stay over.

"You." Wei Wuxian shrugged, making his character die in the game.

"...Why?" Jiang Cheng's right eyebrow was almost kissing his hairline.

"Your parents are here." he hugged his knees, trying really hard to not cry "They fight a lot, but they love you and are here." sniffing, his voice trembled as he confessed his deepest feelings "I'm lonely."

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands still holding the controller, biting his lip. He thought about what he should do, and ended up scooting over and throwing an arm around his friend's trembling shoulders.

"It's ok." he said, feeling awkward.

"I hate them." Wei Wuxian whispered against his knees.

Jiang Cheng felt his heart freeze for a moment "Sometimes..." he started "Sometimes I hate mine, too..."

Wei Wuxian cried silently for a while and Jiang Cheng kept half hugging him until he lifted his head and they both laughed at their red eyes and wet cheeks.

They didn't talk about it again until they were already in highschool and Wei Wuxian decided he wouldn't update his parents about his life anymore, and not be the first to call. Jiang Cheng kept supporting him silently and they started planning their future away from their parents.

When Wei Wuxian came out and started dating Lan Wangji, he didn't tell his parents directly, but his father liked his social media post. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and called them gross, but didn't tell any adults that the boys were sleeping together at that lonely house.

They were accepted in different universities. Wei Wuxian decided to go overseas by himself, while both Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng were accepted at the same university in a bigger city.

"I will wait for Wei Ying." Lan Wangji said, a few days before moving.

"You know..." Wei Wuxian snickered "There's this thing called vacation, I don't know if you heard..."

Lan Wangji huffed, amused.

"And my lawyer said I can come back every summer for vacation. But Lan Zhan could go visit me too, right? Lan-er-gege is richer than this lonely man." he chuckled, hugging his boyfriend.

"...Fine." Lan Wangji silently sighed "I can visit Wei Ying during winter break and Wei Ying can visit me during summer."

"Perfect!"

When they were hugging each other in the airport saying their farewell to Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng clung to him hard and long, eyes closing forcedly.

"Are you still lonely?" he asked in a low voice.

"No." Wei Wuxian smiled, squeezing him back "A little."

"Still hate them?"

"A little. Yes."

They parted with wobbly smiles.

"It's ok." Jiang Cheng said.

"It's ok." Wei Wuxian nodded "I'll be back soon."

"You better!"

[so-boredtoday]

The Scent

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been transferred back to the general work zone without explanation after spending a couple of months working with Miguel. You decide to confront him about it but reason for your transfer is not what you expected.

Word count: 4K

Rated: M / NSFW

Tags/warnings: Mating cycles/In Heat, Biting, Scent kink, Knoting, Fluff, Smut, Oral sex, She/Her pronouns, Breeding talk, No beta reader we die as a cowards, Vaginal sex, Pet name, this is not good don’t let the tags fool you, Spanish.

Author notes: So here it’s the first one… I loved Miguel so much and the Oscar Isaac voice is a turn on to me so here we goo!

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

The following week marked the two-year anniversary of your arrival to the Spider Society. Jessica had invited you to join after you helped her deal with an anomaly in your universe. At the beginning you had individual tasks of little importance until your first team mission arrived. You had been assigned to Miguel's group for the first time, he didn't seem to care about anyone in his group, after a couple of missions you were able to start adapting to his rhythm, avoiding getting in his way and tying up loose ends when he needed it.

He liked working with you: You were efficient, something he liked very much and you were not intrusive which he liked even more, you did your solo missions on time and covered him perfectly in battle. You also brought him lunch without interrupting him and made his coffee just the way he liked without having to tell you how.

You did the reports better than anyone else and always had the answers he needed. Plus you are very good at talking to people, could see how you were genuinely interested in what others had to say. You were able to talk to him... which was not an easy task, at first you talked about casual things like Lyla's updates or Hobbie's disasters but soon you started talking about more important things such as the multiverse or even his family.

He had moved your desk into his office a couple of months ago, with the excuse that it would make the work more efficient. But the real reason was that he could see you from there even when you didn't realize it.

Jess started teasing him about how much he liked you but he would always deny it and end up grumpy. He didn't like you...he just thought it was nice how you smiled when something went right or how your hair fell a little messy over your face...well maybe he liked how you smelled… like black cherry and vanilla it was a pleasant smell that he began to get used to. Sometimes his office smelled like you when he arrived in the mornings which made him smile as he started with the day's activities, however right now your sweet smell had started to become a problem.

A couple of weeks ago something started to change in him. He could smell you even before you came into the quarters and being there next to you had become a living hell, your essence was affecting him in unexpected ways.

With you in his office every time you moved a burst of vanilla flooded the room, like when you stretched to straighten up or when you untied your hair it was totally intoxicating.

He felt the need to hold you in his arms and kiss you, just imagining it made his cock twitch inside his suit and it was getting annoying. He knew his rut was close but there were too many things to do in the GQ so he decided - for his own sake and especially yours - to return your desk to its original place.

It had been a couple of weeks of you working in your old space wondering what had happened. In addition to sending you as far away as he could, Miguel had been completely ignoring you and put you to Peter B's mission group. Something was wrong and you needed to find out.

You walked to his office to discuss but Lyla informed you that he was sick so he had taken a couple of days at home. Concerned, you decided to go to his house with a bowl of hot soup with the intention of helping him to get better, but above all to get some answers.

Lyla would help you to remotely open the door for you, the house was beautiful, with an exquisite Scandinavian style but with more earthy tones and small decorative accents of Mexican craftsmanship. Everything seemed to be in its place and there was no trace of dust anywhere. You left the soup on the open kitchen counter to check if he was okay but heard a noise in what seemed like the master bedroom, you approached and heard his voice through the door.

"Mieerda... I can even smell her in here" A knocking noise alarmed you a little and you opened the door cautiously. A book flew next to your head; the room was a mess with pillows torn, sheets disheveled and many items lying on the floor.

"Miguel, are you okay?" you asked as you walked in, his eyes looked confused to see you there "I came to drop off some soup for you...Lyla said you were sick and I was worried tha..."

"Get out of here." he said bluntly as he sat on the edge of the bed to turn his back on you, you walked to where he was “Que te vayas carajo”.

"No" you replied "You've been ignoring me all this time... you even took me back to the main work room... what's wrong Miguel? Did I do something to upset you? If so I didn't mean to, I apologize if..." He made a grunt interrupting you

"You didn't do anything wrong... It's my business go away please" He said with clenched teeth. You ignored his words and moved closer to face him. He looked feverish and he was sweating.

"Miguel you don't look good at all" You said ignoring his words putting your hand on his face.

When you reached his chest, Miguel gave a soft growl in response. His muscles were tense beneath your touch, and you could feel his heartbeat pounding against your hand. Despite this, he still wasn't saying anything.

"You have a fever Miguel, you need some medicine" You told him as you sat down next to him. He started to stand up to walk away "Let me take care of you Miguel" You told him by taking his hand. Miguel's eyes got a little darker, there was something in the air that felt heavy "Please".

As you spoke, Miguel let out another low groan from deep within himself. For some reason, hearing those words coming from you made him feel more at ease than before. He looked up at you, his eyes full of emotion. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "But you can’t help me”

"I can't do it if you don't tell me what's wrong, trust me Miguel... I just want to help you" I said looking at him with genuine concern.

Miguel hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. Taking a deep breath, he finally opened up about his situation. "I've been feeling these… urges lately they have become so intense that they won’t let me work." he admitted, looking away slightly.

“Urges?” You said confused. “What kind of urges?”

Miguel took a deep breath, hesitating for a few moments before speaking again. "Sexual urges… It comes with powers. I have them from time to time…" he paused before continuing “I had always been able to control them but… They get worse when you're around... your scent… It makes them worse” he confessed in a quiet voice.

"Oh..." You blushed at his confession. "I didn't know sorry… I was so worried… I thought I had offended you in some way " You replied "Or that I had inadvertently jeopardized a mission and I made you angry without realizing it" you continued relieved "I’m sorry Miguel” You told him sincerely “…But don't worry you just need a little help and you'll be fine"

Miguel's face softened as he heard your words. His eyes were still wary though, like he was waiting for something else. "Y-you are going to help me?" he asked softly, sounding hopeful.

"In any way I can" You said to him as you approached him again "Tell me how I can help you Miguel..."

Miguel looked at you with surprise, unsure if he should trust you or not. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke quietly "Pero Cariño… I don’t want to hurt you"

"What could be so bad that would hurt me Miguel?" You asked looking at him tenderly

Miguel nodded slowly, looking relieved. He seemed hesitant but determined too. As you leaned closer, he whispered "I want to bite you..."

"Then do it..." You told him as you moved even closer… Vainilla y cereza negra he thought as he closed his eyes, your scent flooded the room and then without a hesitation you kissed him.

As soon as you kissed him, Miguel let out an animalistic growl in response. You could feel his sharp teeth pressing against your lips, before he started to kiss back passionately. Soon enough, his hands moved up from your waist to grip onto your neck tightly, pulling you closer to him.

“Miguel…” you say with a sight

Miguel responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. His hand slid down your body until it reached between your legs, gently caressing your inner thighs. With each passing second, his desire grew stronger, making him more desperate to possess you completely.

Miguel's hand moved up to remove your jeans. Each movement was accompanied by a soft moan from you, heightening the intensity of the moment. "I want you," he whispered huskily, his breath hot on your skin “I have wanted you for months”

"Take me then" You said looking him in the eyes.

Miguel smiled devilishly before leaning in closer to capture your lips once again. His hands roamed freely across your body as he explored every inch of it, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. You moaned softly as he pressed harder against you, letting out a growl of desire.

You heard the sound of the fabric of your panties tearing “Miguel… oh my god… they were brand new” You told him in a tone of mock indignation as he carelessly removed your button-down shirt and unclasp your bra to throw it away.

With a wicked grin, Miguel pulled away slightly to admire your exposed curves. Taking in each detail with his eyes, he then leaned forward to claim your mouth once more. As he kissed you deeply, he ground his hips against yours, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Yes… I’m going to prepare you Cariñito”

You blushed when you heard the pet name again. His hands moved slowly across your body, exploring every inch of you with his fingertips. When he finally stopped on your pussy and then on your clit, he began to massage gently, sending shivers through your spine. "Are you already wet for me Preciosa?" he asked huskily.

As Miguel's fingers moved down faster and faster, your breathing grew heavier and deeper. His lips traveled lower, leaving trails of fire wherever they went. When he finally reached your most sensitive spot "I've wanted to taste you ever since I first smelled you...so sweet." The sensation was overwhelming, he started to lick your entrance and you closed your eyes while he made circular movements over your clit. It was overwhelming you tried to close your legs but he stopped them to continue devouring you, at some point your hands were on his head grabbing his hair as you began to tremble and a feeling of pleasure formed in your lower stomach it didn't last long before you were left trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

You looked at Miguel, panting heavily. With a satisfied smirk on his face, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, savoring the taste of your passion. “Are you ready to take me now Cariño?" he asked.

The interior of your thighs was all wet and your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you gasped for breath “Miguel…” You said almost inaudibly “Please… I need you…”

His eyes darkened as he heard your plea, and he knew exactly what you needed. Without another word, he take you and lay you face down on the bed and lift your hips positioned himself behind you. Taking hold of your hips, he pushed himself inside you in one swift motion. "Ohhh...yes..."

Your face sank into the mattress, silencing a little the scream of pleasure when you felt him deep inside you "My God... Miguel" You moan

As he continued thrusting deeply within you, Miguel let out a low growl that was part pleasure and part dominance. With each powerful movement, he reached deeper and deeper until he couldn't contain the need any longer. "So pretty like this… and just for me… you want me to fuck you harder right Cariño" he said between breaths.

Tears of pleasure streamed from your eyes and as you felt it deep inside, the angle made each thrust touch that soft spot "Yes..." You said in a whisper.

He responded by increasing his pace, pushing himself harder against you with every stroke. His breathing became ragged and his grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Yes… just like that preciosa, cum for me” he murmured softly.

"I’m close…" You moaned, my hands gripped the sheet as you felt him moving inside of you, his hands tightened on your hips as your walls began to contract in their length and your legs trembled trying to hold up.

With each wave of pleasure that washed through you, Miguel grunted in satisfaction and increased his speed. As your orgasm subsided, he slowed down slightly but kept moving inside of you gently, savoring the feeling of being close to you. "That's right, babe, feel it," His knot was forming inside you

As Miguel continued thrusting slowly and steadily, you felt his body trembling from within. With each movement, he seemed to be getting closer and closer to release. His knot was big inside and you could hear the soft sounds of skin slapping together echoing throughout the room, creating an intense rhythm between the two of you. "Take it… take it all of it”

His breathing was heavy and his grip on your hips tightened leaving a red mark. Suddenly, without warning, he let out a loud moan and released himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

As you lay there feeling satisfied by the sensation of being filled up by Miguel's seed. Miguel wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you close to him as he nuzzled against your neck softly. “I need to bite you honey”

You shivered when he put his mouth in the back of your neck and began to give small wet kisses.

As Miguel kissed your neck, you shivered in anticipation, enjoying the warmth of his breath and the gentle touch of his lips. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment, until suddenly, you heard a low growl coming from behind you.

Miguel slowly turned you around, you looked at him revealing that his fangs were now fully extended. His gaze was intense, and his breathing was heavy as he stared at you hungrily. "Don't move," he said in a low voice, before moving closer towards you. A feeling of dread settled in your chest and you closed my eyes in anticipation "Is it going to hurt?" You asked.

Miguel chuckled darkly, but there was no trace of humor or kindness in it. Instead, there was only an animalistic hunger mixed with lustful desire. Without warning, he grabbed hold of your waist firmly and pulled you close, pressing his body against yours. His hot breath brushed against your ear as he whispered. "Yes, it will hurt... but I promise it won't be too bad just stay still”

You let out a sigh with your eyes closed feeling his hot breath on your neck and suddenly a sensation of sharp pain flooded you as he began to bite you.

As Miguel bit harder, you let out a sharp gasp from the pain. You couldn't believe how strong he was, yet also gentle enough not to cause any more harm than necessary. Despite this, the sensation of being bitten made you feel like prey instead of a human.

Miguel's hand went down until it reached your pussy and to make circular movements on your clit. The sensation of pleasure that started to build up inside of you quickly overwhelmed your senses. Your breathing was heavier and faster as you began to moan softly in response to Miguel's hands. Soon, you were lost in a world of pure bliss, unable to think or control yourself completely.

"Vamos cariño, cum for me," Miguel said with difficulty with his fangs still in your skin. As you came closer to orgasm again, Miguel increased the intensity of his movements until finally, you reached your climax once more.

For a moment you forgot that his teeth were still on your neck until he let go. His teeth marks left behind a trail of red lines across your skin, but it didn't hurt anymore thanks to the numbing effect of his venom.

You were breathing heavily as he caressed you tenderly, helped you into his arms and then put his chin on your head. You closed your eyes for a moment as your breathing returned to normal "Are you okay?" He asked you softly

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine" You told him as you smiled, you turned to look at him, his hair was messy and his lips were a little swollen. "How are you Miguel?... I was able to help you?" You said whispering in his ear, he let out a small laugh. No one had ever seen him so relaxed, he looked you in the eyes and started to bring his face closer to yours.

His lips brushed yours for a few seconds and then he kissed you again softly, he took your face gently with his right hand and caressed your cheek. He pulled away from your face slowly to move down to your neck, he gave a couple of kisses on the bite mark and you closed your eyes at the contact "So beautiful… and just for me." He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully helped you onto his lap.

Miguel looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes as you lay on top of him. You both stared deeply into each other's eyes before he leaned forward and kissed you passionately. After several minutes of rough kissing, he pulled away slightly and whispered in your ear, “Ride me Cariño”

Having control after what happened before seemed a bit surreal. You kissed him again as you guided his length to place it in your folds, he let out a grunt as you began to push him inside you "Oh Miguel… you feel so good" You said to him.

Miguel let out a low moan as you rode him, feeling completely enveloped by pleasure. As you continued moving up and down, he reached around and grabbed onto your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him. As he continued thrusting upward, " Who owns this beautiful cunt??"

“It belongs to you Miguel…” You said in a needy moan your walls began to contract as you found the right angle, your eyebrows drew together and you let out a moan. “Only to you…” Miguel responded with a growl as he increased the intensity of his thrusts, pushing himself harder and deeper helping you. You gasped in pleasure as his movements grew more powerful, sending waves of sensation through your entire body when your climax came.

Miguel's breathing became ragged as he approached his climax, gripping you tighter as he plunged deeply inside of you. His eyes closed shut tight, groaning loudly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his veins. His knot feels big inside you, he trusted in you a couple of times and he cums again.

You felt his hot cum inside and looked at him as he kept his eyes closed. He looked handsome with his sweaty forehead and breathing erratically, he was still inside you without moving, you could feel his seed sliding down your thighs. That’s when a thought hit you "Miguel..." You said in panic "I'm not on birth control."

Miguel opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and looked back up at you with no worries in his face. "I know," he said softly, his expression turning serious. "In fact, I was hoping for that…” You looked at at him in confusion as he moved carefully to get out of you.

Miguel smiled reassuringly at you before leaning down to kiss you gently. "Don't worry about it," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not going to lie, I was thinking about it when I knot you."

You opened your eyes in surprise. "What are you talking about Miguel..."

Miguel chuckled lightly at your surprise. He kissed you again to stop your words, he moved closer so that his body pressed against yours. His hands began exploring your curves while his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. When he finally pulled away, he looked deeply into your eyes and spoke quietly. "Well, let's just say I like the idea of it," he whispered kindly. You shivered slightly from his words, feeling both scared and excited.

He continued kissing you and caressing your skin until you relaxed, it was then he carefully placed you on the bed so that you would rest. He stood up and walked to the bathroom leaving you alone on the bed for a moment reflecting on his words. After a few minutes he came out of the bathroom with a damp towel and helped you clean your thighs, he noticed how nervous you seemed. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly, kneeling beside you on the bed.

You avoided his gaze for a moment "Miguel... I don't think you're serious, are you?..." You said nervously "About the pregnancy"

Miguel looked at you thoughtfully before speaking again. "I don't want to scare you off, but... yes, I was serious about it." His voice was gentle yet confident.

You looked at him surprised, the idea of having a son with Miguel seemed crazy… you weren't even together... But that didn't stop you from fantasizing about what it would be like, the idea flitted through your mind as he caressed your legs lovingly and the more you thought about it the more it started to make sense. You guys were the best team in GQ and you spent all your time together even when you didn't have any missions. He cared about you as much as you cared about him, he knew you more than anyone and above all he understood you...

Before the rut situation and his sudden estrangement, you began to suspect that he liked you as much as you liked him. Hobbie annoys you with it all the time, Gwen encouraged you to be more flirtatious... Even Jessica hinted at how much he liked you sometimes but you were sure about Miguel’s feelings. He had never crossed the friendship line before this, that made you doubt ."Miguel…” You said with sadness in your voice “Do you really like me in that way or is this all just about your rut?" You asked

Miguel smiled gently at your question, his eyes softening with affection. "Is not about that…” He answered “I care about you… I always have," he said quietly. He said reassuringly. "I care about you deeply, more than anything else in this world. You're important to me” He paused for a moment before continuing. "I've been caring about you since the first day we met. I feel bad when you're not with me... you don't know how hard it was not being able to have you around"

Before he could continue, you kissed him with a tenderness that the two had not shared before. Miguel's face lit up with joy as he felt you kissing him like that. His heart was pounding faster now, but he managed to keep himself calm. He leaned forward slightly and brushed his lips against yours tenderly. "I love you Cariño" he whispered softly.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Can you please write dumb/cute/random things BTS members will do while they are crushing on reader?

This was cute to write! This is what I think they'd each be like with crushes. Just so you know, all of them are dorks.

Please send me asks to keep me motivated while I’m off work! Thirsty thoughts, Most likely to, reactions, life updates, and general gibberish welcomed!!

Namjoon:

If Namjoon has a crush on you he gets extra clumsy. In his head, he is trying to be the most sophisticated person on earth, think W sexy numkim Namjoon. however in reality he is actually fumbling at every step, stuttering and tripping his way through conversations, beating himself up a little inside every time he rambles on a bit too long about something. Eventually, he just gives up on trying to impress you because he is too in his head and thinks he doesn't have a chance. Ironically that is when he manages to be more comfortable around you and stops breaking things. He still info dumps, but because he is a little less self-conscious about it, he allows it to flow more naturally and you can have a proper conversation without him disappearing to berate himself for talking too much. If the crush progresses to you hanging out he will always bring a little gift, sometimes snacks, sometimes a trinket that makes him think of you. He will send you pictures of things in nature that remind him of you, and take you to museums where certain sculptures or paintings reflect his feelings or your likeness. 

Seokjin:

None stop trying to make you laugh. Probably refers to himself as worldwide handsome a lot to garner your attention like: "Hey Y/N, did you know they call me WWH?", or "Did you miss my WWH face?". It's a good job that he is in fact very pretty or it would get annoying. Although you tell him every time that it annoys you while using the opportunity to slap/feel up his bicep. He stops by your workplace every day to try and see you, but he is trying to be subtle as he does it, making up genuine excuses as to why he is there. Gets exceedingly disappointed when your coworkers tell him you are on a break because it would be too suspicious if he came back later on. 

Yoongi:

He starts by offering you some of his food, claiming he has too much and he thought you might not have eaten yet (It's 10:30 am, of course, you haven't eaten yet). Then he is bringing in bigger meals claiming to be trying new recipes and then always making too much (He is trying new recipes, they happen to be some of your favourites. He is also sizing up the recipe to have enough for you both and more). He will invite you to listen in on some tracks he is working on, saying they are nowhere near finished but he wants an outside opinion (They are mostly finished, and mostly about you).

Hoseok:

Strikes me as a straight forward man. You are absolutely going to know if he has a crush on you. There is no messing about he just asks you out... and then hyperventilates about it as soon as he is behind a closed door. It doesn't matter if you answered yes or no that was the most fear-inducing thing he has ever done, debut stage included. He keeps the brave front when around you at all times though. He is very good at pretending to be confident and charming even when his heart is trying to beat out of his ribcage. He makes a point of kissing your hand when he sees you, like the way you giggle and blush.

Jimin:

Similar to Namjoon, goes from being the most coordinated guy in the world to tripping over his own shoes. He blushes furiously every time you walk in the room and struggles to form full sentences. The others rip the shit out of him for being so nervous when you leave. He spends most of his time with his head in his hands hiding the red in his cheeks rather than making eye contact. Eventually, the butterflies die down and he decides he needs to man up and make a move. He refuses to let Jeon - couldn't make eye contact with a woman until he turned twenty-two - Jungkook make fun of him for being anxious, so he swallows the fear and makes a move. Then his flirting becomes relentless: He leans against walls and cages you in a little, he uses pickup lines and keeps calling you beautiful, and he refers to you with pet names. He tries everything he can to make you as flustered as you made him before he asks you out, god-forbid you fight flirty fire with fire.

Taehyung:

He follows you around like a lost puppy when he can. If he is around you will never have to carry anything or open a door. He gives you expensive gifts that you aren't allowed to refuse, if you do they just end up at your house later on in the day. He claims most of them are leftovers from brand deals, but some of them are coming from brands you swear they've never worked with. He frequently brings you smoothies and snacks too. Even if he isn't around he will have them delivered to your work, sometimes for your whole office, not just you. If you try to tell him to stop he just makes the tata mic face until you come to a compromise that he will stop sending you drinks if you let him take you out for one. 

Jungkook:

If he figures out he has a crush on you, you will not see him for 8-16 days. The first day he realises he will look at you with the widest eyes and blinks a little too slowly, he then excuses himself as soon as possible. He then spends days in his house typing and erasing a text to send to you. It gives him a heart attack when typing bubbles appear because that means you've seen him lurking. He eventually figures out what he wants to do with his crush and then you struggle to get rid of him, not that you necessarily want to, although he did almost follow you into a bathroom once because he was too busy talking and not paying attention to where you were going. When he gets drunk on his own at home he always texts you, nothing serious or even damning, he just is genuinely missing you. It probably comes across wrong because its always 2am, but he is innocently just wondering how you are. Once you fall in to a conversation it is obvious that it wasn't meant as a booty call, as much as you sometimes might wish it was.

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Chapter 7)

summary: you wake up to the harsh realities of your new life, and realize that your lover is terrible at keeping promises.

rating: E

word count: 5.9k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, abandonment issues, impulsive reader, alcohol abuse and using alcohol to take advantage of someone, visual depiction of violence, blood/vampire bites, smut, oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, praise kink, blood as an aphrodisiac, light choking. full list on ao3

new update every friday!

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I was given a heart before I was given a mind

A thirst for pleasure and war, a hunger we keep inside

We fell from sky with grace, and life gave us a sweeter taste

You can drink, you can feast

There's beauty in your beast

-

Pain.

Raw, gut-wrenching, agonising pain.

Your awakening into your undead life is nothing like your last moments alive. Where your death had been bliss, lulled to eternal sleep as you were still basking in the aftermath of your climax, your rebirth is violent. Every bone in your body hurts as you suddenly regain consciousness, not with a new breath, but rather a monstrous hunger. Your vision is red, and there’s a faint metallic aftertaste in your mouth that you yearn for, as a churning in your stomach makes you twist in agony. It’s even worse than what you had gone through during the days spent in your cell; claws ripping you from within, an urge to devour anything and everything on your path, a never ending pit inside you, it’s–

“Shh, you’re alright my love. There, there, drink.”

Someone’s arm surrounds your shoulders, keeping you sat, as a cup is brought to your lips, and you do just as the voice commands; drink, until there's not one drop left. You go through its contents as if it was the air you needed to breathe. Whatever it is, you want more. You need more. It’s barely enough to keep the pain at bay, lest satisfy your hunger. The air around you is suffocating you; you need to get out, need to fix the pain. You fight through the hold the person has on you, as you muster a rough “more”.

“Aren't you a hungry little pet?” The voice speaks up again, less distant than it was before your first drink. “Hm, I suppose you deserve it for going through this. You've been so very brave.”

He turns around to fill the cup once more, and as you force yourself to take a deep breath, you smell the unmistakable scent of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. The aroma brings you a familiar comfort, and you don’t know what it is about the voice, but it soothes you. Even though you can’t quite put a name on it yet, you feel secure, and you stop fighting the man’s embrace. When you’re finally calm, he brings another cup to your lips, only to pull it away when you try to grab it.

“Ah ah! Careful now, this is your last one for the time being. You'll have to learn to control yourself.”

You growl as you reach for the cup, violently gulping as you drain it dry and lick your lips for any remains of the cup’s content. Although the cup felt big in your hands, it also felt as if it was barely filled. You drank the liquid in mere seconds and, surprisingly enough, it was all you needed to ease the unbearable pain you woke up in. The world gets clearer, the ringing in your ears tones down; you’re finally able to make out where you are and who’s holding you. 

Your beloved, your Lord, your creator. 

You’re glad to see that, as promised, he stayed by your side, and he’s taken care of feeding you. With you calm at last, Astarion takes the empty cup from your hand to leave it on your nightstand, before bringing his attention back to you.

“How is my precious consort faring?”

“I… I’m fine now,” you clutch down at your stomach, noticing that the hunger was gone as fast as it appeared. “Thank you.”

“Of course, little love.” He smiles down at you. “And It’ll only get better, I promise.” He kisses the top of your head before you lay your head against his chest, still wrapped between his arms, as he strokes your hair. “Try to rest for now, you'll need all the strength you can get.” His voice sounds like a lullaby, a soft melody that brings you the warmth you had lost within.

Someone knocks at the door, and you can’t quite make out what they say in a rush – something about a shipment – or even who they are, but they sound alarmed. They didn’t even bother to wait for an answer before barging into your room. Whatever he says has Astarion pull away from you too soon, leaving you alone in bed in a disgruntled state; barely covered by the satin night dress you wore the night before, with your messy hair all over the place and blood tainting your chin.

“I need to attend to some matters that I’m afraid I can’t leave unchecked, I’ll do my best to take care of it as fast as possible.” He says, his tone back to its cold, methodical self, as he stands in front of your mirror, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair, making sure the reflection before him was the depiction of perfection, before turning to you. “Can I trust you to be on your best behaviour?”

You frown in disbelief before turning your gaze away from him, pensive. 

He’s already leaving. He promised… 

He walks back towards you, noticing your disappointment, and bends over the bed to take your chin between his fingers. He brings you closer to him once more and wipes away the blood remaining at the corner of your lips with his thumb. 

“Come on now, my treasure. Don’t you want to be wonderfully obedient for me? I promise, I will be back before supper.”

There was something about the way he looked at you, the way his voice resonated in your mind long after he stopped talking, how he held you just right. Something about being his; body and soul. He knew just how to act towards you to make you surrender to him. Your walls break down and you nod, caving into his demands. You trusted him enough to take your life, you could extend your trust a bit more, he’s not going to abandon you now, right?

He licks his thumbs, tasting the leftover blood and hums. “That’s my girl.” 

As his hand sneaks into the base of your hair to pull you into him, you part your lips to welcome his lips embracing yours. He lightly pulls at your hair to tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and you melt into his embrace. Should you still have the need to breathe, the air would’ve left your lungs in this instant. He parts from you, admiring the state he put you in one last time as a smirk appears on his lips, before leaving your room without another word. Supper was hours away still, so this would give you time to do anything you wanted, and you were free to roam the palace after all – it was as much his as it was yours now – and with your new nature, you couldn’t risk going outside with the blazing sun, unless you wanted an awfully painful death. 

You quickly pick and put on a casual dress from your wardrobe for the day and start your research within the palace. As expected, the kitchen only has food meant for the living. All of it extorted disgust out of you now, the smell alone made you retch, putting an end to your search of this part of the building almost as soon as it started. You walk down the hallways, opening any door that wasn't locked to give it a peak, out of the mere chance that it contains anything remotely interesting for you to discover, only to be faced with empty rooms, for the most part. To your despair, all things that could’ve been worth your attention were locked and out of reach behind a single door that remained locked. When you ask Amedee about it, she only mentions that, “some places are only meant for the Master’s eyes''. You don't notice the day go by as you search every nook and cranny of the palace waiting for Astarion’s return; from the biggest room to the lowest dungeons. You have never been more frustrated as your search ended, tired and anxious, and with nothing to speak for it.

When you go back to your room, defeated, you notice the sun had set, and yet, Astarion was still nowhere to be seen. On your very first day as a vampire, in the very first instant of your transformation, he left you to fend for yourself, breaking one of the only three rules you had instated. A familiar impulsive idea crosses your mind, and without the Lord of the house to stop you, you pick a dark cape, along with some gold from his office and leave for the nearest tavern. This is where you would drink away your pain back in your living days, the thought of experiencing this again is comforting after the day you had.

“My Lady? Where are you going?”

As you make your way to the exit, your personal servant intercepts you.

“It would be better for you not to get involved, Amedee.” You keep walking until she moves in front of you, blocking your path.

“Far be it from me to contradict you, but the Master explicitly requested for you not to leave the palace!”

“I’ll follow the Master’s demands when he respects mine!” You push her aside to make it to the door when she grabs your wrist, stopping you right before the door.

“I would really advise you against it please–!”

When you look back at her, it’s with a boiling anger in your eyes, an anger that should be directed towards Astarion, you remind yourself, not her. She’s just following his orders, you tell yourself, preventing yourself from acting irrationally towards her.

“Amedee, I don't want to hurt you. Let me go, now.” Your words are gentle, but your voice sounds like a warning.

She looks at you with eyes pleading with you to stay, “I’m sorry my Lady, but I can’t let you go. He ordered it.” Her grip on you tightens and you understand the implication of her words. As much as you had appreciated her recent company, it was going to take you more to stop you from falling back into your old habits.

“I’m sorry too.”

Before she can react, you flip your arm around, making her twist in pain, before knocking the back of her head with your elbow, effectively knocking her unconscious. You look at Amedee with a pain in your chest, before walking out, slamming the door on your way out.

You had no intention of following anyone’s orders.

—

The tavern you reach is filled with mostly men, of all ages and all races, and in the past, chances are you would’ve bedded one – or a few – of them after a couple of drinks, but that wasn’t your goal this time. Your intention tonight is to get wasted, absolutely and utterly hammered, and you don't intend on leaving until you can’t walk properly; this was always your go-to to deal with high emotions, and it's not death that was going to change your ways. What you didn’t yet know was that your new vampiric powers made you unable to get inebriated. Not on alcohol, anyway. So you drink – for almost an hour – and the more you take, the worse it tastes, but you feel absolutely nothing. That’s until a charming, young tiefling approaches you.

“Let me offer you something more convenient for a lady like you.”

He smelled delicious. 

Your bitter attitude quickly makes place for a pleasant smile, “What would you suggest?”

“How about some plum wine?” He orders two cups for the both of you and cheers before taking a first sip. You imitate the gesture only to grimace behind your cup. Just like the previous beers you’ve had, this drink is simply sour. Nothing would ever taste good anymore. Nothing, aside from whatever this tiefling had on him, Gods, the smell was simply intoxicating. It was almost unbearable to keep drinking this piss for wine when he was right there, hiding away that sweet nectar from you.

That’s when you get an idea. A terrible one.

“This is… nice, but I’m more the kind of girl who enjoys stronger drinks.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans closer to you. “Tell me, what’s your poison of choice?”

“Only if you promise to share a bottle with me.” Your voice is lustful and your hand easily finds its way on his thigh.

He smiles lustfully, “I think I might be tempted.”

You’re surprised by your ease to charm the man. You might’ve bedded countless strangers in the past, it usually took you at least two bottles of wine to get touchy with strangers, let alone get near them at all. This realisation gives you a sudden confidence boost and you find yourself getting closer to the tiefling, and open up your cape to reveal the plunging neckline of your dress which highlights your generous chest. You know your action has the desired effect when you notice him biting his lower lip at the sight of your breasts, unable to look elsewhere.

With the man now completely enchanted by you, you take a step further to secure your catch of the night. You order “the strongest drink you have” from the server, and you start drinking along. As the bottle gets close to empty, the tiefling grows more and more inebriated, while you are as fresh as the moment you stepped in. With the bottle almost empty, you throw some gold over the counter and whisper in his ear “let’s take this party somewhere else”, before grabbing him by the wrist to guide him out of the tavern. You don’t make it that far, as your thirst was guiding your every step and it was only growing stronger. 

At the next corner, you pull him into an alley far from any scurrying eyes and abruptly pin him to the wall with your newfound strength.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Hells lady, I didn’t take you for a woman of experience.”

Poor guy, if only he knew.

He was barely able to hold his own weight, he looked downright pathetic next to a creature of such power as you. You take one, long sniff at him, taking in his aroma; he smells of plum, peaches, and bergamot, and unlike the food from earlier that reeked, the fruity notes he wore were as pleasant as you remember it from your living. Before long, you cover his mouth with one hand, tilting his head away, and dive your fangs into his neck in one swift movement. The moment his blood hits your mouth, relief overcomes you, finally indulging in the drink you didn’t know you had been waiting for all night. This man’s life be damned, you needed this, and you couldn’t handle any more teasing.

You feel him trying to scream and fight his way out of your hold, but it's no use; as every sip you take makes you stronger, and him weaker.

And you drink, and drink, and drink, until he's limp and you can't feel any more of the warm liquid coming from his neck.

You finally understand how Astarion felt that night he first drank from you. You're happy. Ecstatic, even, but a bit drunk. That was a lot of blood for your first time, but it was perfect to satisfy you. You feel as if you could take on an entire army by yourself, finally, strong once again, stronger than you’ve ever been.

It’s only as you pull back and the tiefling’s corpse falls to your feet that the weight of your actions dawns on you, taking you out of your blind confidence. A sudden panic rises in your chest when you realise what you’ve done, and you backtrack out of the alley, until you accidentally bump into someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

That’s when you recognize the familiar voice, and you freeze in place, hardly believing it at first. You wipe off your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to get rid of any evident trace of your feeding before turning around to face the voice.

“Shadowheart?”

She steps back in shock when she recognizes you as well, choking back a sob as she smiles, before she rushes to embrace you tightly. You reach out slowly to hold her back, still processing the shock of her presence. You’re confused by your own reaction, shouldn’t you be happy to finally see her again? Why were you… afraid?

She finally pulls back, after what feels like an eternity, to take a look at you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I… sent you a letter,” your voice is quiet with hesitation.

She sighs, “Ah, I just got back to Baldur's Gate, I’m afraid I haven’t received it – where were you?!” She reaches out to cup your face when her smile is replaced by worry almost instantly. “By Selûne, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you try to brush it off, reaching out to pull her hand away from your face almost in disdain, when you see her eyes flash in horror.

“You’re hurt!” She exclaims as she grabs your bloodied hand to inspect it. “Who did this to you? Are you in danger?”

“I’m not hurt!” You raise your voice, snatching your hand away from her forcefully, and in the lighting of the full moon, that’s when she sees your eyes. 

Your brand new, ruby red eyes.

She gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she takes a step back, connecting the pieces together in horror.

“Gods, no… what did he do to you?…”

You pull your cape back over your head as you avoid her gaze. “He didn’t do anything… I did. I asked him to transform me.”

“But why would you?! After everything you told me… what could make you change your mind? What did he say that could possibly make you do…” She pauses, looking you up and down, “this?”

You shake your head, “I–” The words get stuck in your throat, unable to explain to her what had happened just the day before. “I don’t expect you to understand, but–”

“You’re right, I don’t.” She says, cutting you off. “You do realise that the last time we saw each other, you wanted to forget about him? You considered leaving the city, with me.” She reaches out for your hands and looks for your eyes. “Nothing is stopping you from doing it, you can still run away from this, from him–”

“I don’t need protection!” You growl, snatching your hand out of hers as you back away. ”He’s helping me.”

“Whatever for?!”

You pause just before the answer makes it to your lips, as you realise just what you’ve become, and your face softens as you speak up. Your voice is but a whisper as your eyes fall to the ground before you. “Revenge.”

She scoffs, “You really do make quite the pair.” She sighs heavily, now shaking her head. “You’ve made your choice, clearly there’s no stopping you, but… I won’t stand here and watch you go down that path.” She looks up to you with sad eyes as she backtracks. “I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for, truly.”

With those last words, she turns and slowly walks into the noisy tavern without giving you another look, leaving you alone with your thoughts in this empty street.

You, your thoughts, and the body of the man you had just killed.

Shit. The body.

You suddenly remember your actions and go back into the alley to do your best attempt at hiding him away – which turned out to shove him inside a barrel that you hid behind more boxes – before running away to the Crimson palace.

—

As you step back into the palace, you’re instantly faced with Astarion who had seemingly been pacing around the entrance, belittling Amedee, who was awake once more, for what you assume was letting you get out of the palace. He becomes furious the second he sees you, speaking up as he rushes towards you. 

“Where were you?”

“As if you cared.” You brush him off, walking past him as you make your way to your room, when he puts his arm in the way to stop you and lean over you.

“Believe it or not, I was extremely worried,” he says, his voice darkened.

“You don’t need to be! I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, all thanks to you.” You taunt him, trying to move away from his intimidating form, but he cages you under him.

“Do I need to remind you who is out there?” He almost shouts, lowering his voice to continue. “You were supposed to stay here, where you are safe, and you deliberately ignored my only command.”

“You can give orders to your other spawns, but don’t get to command me, remember?”

He growls under his breath, “You’re making this very difficult for me, pet.”

“I’m not your fucking pet!” 

As you roar, Amedee and a tiefling spawn you recognize from your days in the dungeons move carefully towards you, with the intention to restrain you, but they stop in their tracks when Astarion raises his hand to them.

His attention remains on you, but something changes in his eyes, his tone becoming suddenly cold, “Don’t make me compel you now.”

“Why don’t you try.” You push him backwards as you say your last words, and he barely moves, only stepping back to keep his balance. “Go on! Break yet another one of your promises. Compel me.”

He looks up to the two spawns, commanding them. “Leave us.”

They look back at each other before the tiefling tries to speak up, “My Lord, are you sure–”

“Now!” He shouts.

They bow and quickly leave the hallways, leaving you both alone. When he looks back at you, he seems more composed, but just as stern as before. “As much as I want to, I won't control you.” He stands upright once again, taking a deep breath. “I will respect your wishes, as difficult as it may be.”

“It seemed rather easy for you to abandon me merely minutes after I awoke as a monster,” you spit out.

He sighs, “It hurts me so dearly when you see yourself as such. My darling, you are so much more than that, and so much greater than a mere spawn.” He pauses, his gaze piercing through you. “No, you are my consort.”

You get more frustrated by the mention of the title, as if being his most beloved spawn changed a thing. You continue, your voice slowly rising, “I am not your prized possession, and I will not let you treat me as such. I should be free to do as I wish.”

“We spoke about this, dear. Circumstances changed. Once that’s settled, I would gladly let you parade in the lively streets of Baldur’s Gate as much as your heart desires.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “It isn’t as much parading as it is haunting when night comes.” Your anger leaves room for despair. How you had gotten there, how you had let yourself be guided by the simple means of revenge… “I should’ve known better than to trust you.”

He leans over you, stopping barely inches apart from your face, his breath hot as he murmurs against your ear.

“I did exactly what I promised I would do; I shared my gifts with you.” He grabs you by your chin, pulling a gasp out of you as he forces you to look at him when he growls, “And I intend on showing you exactly what I mean.”

You don’t get to react as he grabs you by your wrist and walks away, pulling you along with him. When you walk past your room and approach the door to the dungeons, a dread starts to set in within you.

“Astarion, where are you taking me?” He ignores your question as he keeps walking, and you try to pull away only to feel his grip on you becoming tighter. “Astarion, answer me!”

Your fear is replaced by confusion, as you walk past the dungeons, and enter a room you’d never been in before: the only room you noticed was locked earlier. As he drags you inside, you observe that it highly resembles yours, aside from the gigantic mirror placed near the bed. 

He slams the door shut behind you and locks it, before walking back to you, “I never, ever, want you to think of yourself as nothing less than a goddess. Do you hear me?” You back track until you hit the wall on the other end of his room and his arms fly to the side of your head, caging you under him. His aura is dark, possessive, and not a single coherent thought inhabits you when lowers himself, leaving but a breath between you two. “I said, do you hear me?”

“Y-yes.”

“You – are sublime.” You blink anxiously, and you swear you could feel your face grow warm from his words. They were said with such admiration, yet his tone was bordering on madness; you had never felt so incredibly small under him. “Let me show you how I mean to worship you.”

As soon as the last words leave his lips, he removes the cape from your shoulders, before ripping your dress open, completely ruining it. As you stand almost bare before him, he notices the blood on your pale skin, and he smiles as he reaches out for your hand.

“Oh? Did my little treat have a treat of her own?” he purrs, licking the blood from your hand, and a sinister chuckle escapes him. “Poor bastard probably had it coming. Tell me, dear, how did it feel?” His tongue trails from your hand, along your arm, up to your shoulder, leaving a faint kiss there before whispering. “To take a life?”

A short puff of air escapes you, before you manage to speak up. “It was… terrifying… and exhilarating… all at once.” You didn’t need to breathe anymore, but it didn’t stop your breathing to become fast paced as he continued to kiss your body, down to your navel.

“What about his blood? Tell me exactly how he tasted.” He pulls your panties down painfully slowly, as he sinks to his knees, while staring right into your eyes as he waits on you.

“He was… sweet. We had plum wine right before– ah–!” His hand finds its way between your legs, slipping right between your lips to find the accumulation of your desire. “Astarion…”

“Don’t let me stop you, dear. I want to know every sordid detail.” His fingers continue their rumination, encouraging you to retell your experience. “Go on.”

“We– we had wine, plum wine, and I could taste it in his blood.” You struggle to complete your sentences; between having Astarion on his knees before you and him  fingering you, it was difficult not to. “He– Gods, he tasted like peaches, and– and bergamot–”

“Bergamot, huh?” He interrupts you. “Even when you’re looking to get away, it seems as if your senses bring you right back to me, don’t they?” A small cry escapes you as his fingers enter you, picking up a languid rhythm. 

“I wasn’t– mmh– I… wasn’t looking to get away from y– you. I– ahh…” You try to grab onto the wall for support, as your legs start to give out while his fingers coax your inner walls, and his thumb teases ever so slightly your sensitive bud. ”I was mad at you.”

He removes his fingers, dipping them into his mouth to taste you, “Mhh, I suppose I deserve that. I promise, I will absolutely treat you with the utmost attention moving forward.” He places his face between your legs, and pushes your legs over his shoulders, his arms circling over your thighs, giving you the support you need to stay up. “Starting now.”

He dives right into your cunt, his skilled tongue lapping over the mess he made of you. He growls against your entrance, as he tongue-fucks you, and his nose provides a delicious friction over your clit. You reach out for his head, grabbing onto his silver curls for support, and you feel him roar between your legs, the vibration sending a delicious wave of electricity through you. You buck your hips against his face, chasing the relief his tongue was providing you, while your moans only grow louder and louder.

In this position, he couldn't say much, but you begged him nonetheless, “Astarion, please, don’t stop.”

There’s nothing but him in your mind, him and his devilish tongue working wonders. 

“Believe me, I want nothing but to ravish you, my dear.”

You look down on him with a frown, not understanding how he was able to speak so clearly when he was very much drowning in your juices. Breathless, you ask, “What– How did you–”

“Our minds, little love.” He answers in your mind, without ever stopping his labour of love. “Our bond is stronger than the one of regular spawns. They can only receive commands, but you, as my dark consort, can communicate back and forth with me.”

You remain silent, processing this new information, when you see his eyes looking back at you, still ravishing you. “I told you you were special.”

“But how–”

“You’ve already opened yourself to me, now, reach out to my mind.”

You close your eyes, focusing on his presence; his hands firm over your thighs, his soft curls brushing against your skin, his tongue devouring you, his nose teasing your clit, pushing you towards the edge…

“Oh, Astarion…”

“There you are, my precious darling.” He pulls away and gets up just as you were getting to your peak, and you whine at the loss of his touch, as if he took away the very air you needed to breathe. The smile that appears on his lips as he caresses your cheek is devious, almost cruel.

“Tsk tsk, only good girls get their reward. You want to be very good for me, don't you?” You nod vigorously and he smiles, wickedly. “I thought so.”

He removes his trousers, finally freeing the raging erection he was keeping caged within, to sit just over the edge of the bed. He brings his thumb to his mouth and punctures it with his fang, before smearing his own blood all over his leaking cock. 

“Time for your treat, darling.”

Your legs finally give out and you crawl your way to him, enchanted by the sight before you. You recognize the smell of his blood from earlier; that was the liquid you drank this morning. He had fed you his very own blood. 

Had he made you…

A full vampire?

“Come, now. Aren't you eager to taste me?”

The sight of his cock brought water to your mouth; the way his precome mixed with his blood made it glint in the light of the fireplace, your hand barely circling around his impressive girth, and the veins adorning it made for a delicious treat. You open your mouth, with your tongue sticking out, and lick from the bottom of his shaft up to the head of it, closing your eyes as you taste the sinful mix of his fluids.

The blood from your earlier catch was good, but it was nowhere near comparable to the delectable nectar Astarion bestowed upon you. This was downright heavenly. 

“Mmh, doing so well for me, pet. My sweet, sweet consort.”

You're not sure if it's because of the taste of his blood on your tongue, mixed along with his sweet praise, but you find yourself more lenient on the pet name you previously disliked. Somehow, it was growing on you, and you weren't sure how to feel about it, but in your lust-drunken state of mind, the name rolled beautifully on his tongue. 

Softly, he pushes aside your hair falling over your face, holding it back as you finally take him in your mouth. When you look up to him, you find him admiring you with half-lidded eyes, and his mouth agape. The moans that leave his mouth encourages you to go further, and with each mouthful of him, you take him deeper down your throat, until your lips are flush against the base of his cock.  

“Keep going,” he breathes out. “Gods, you feel, aah– amazing.” To know that you had reduced the mighty Vampire Lord to whimpers fueled a newfound confidence within you, and it pushes you to suck more fervently on his dick, “Yes, just like that, pet. Fuuuck, darling, I should've fucked your pretty little mouth earlier.”

You bring your hand to his shaft, twisting and sliding along its length with each thrust of your mouth, while your other hand cups his balls, softly squeezing them in your palm. His hips thrust upwards into your mouth, almost moving of their own accord as he was nearing his climax.

“Are you ready to taste me, love?” You look up to him, and using your bond you answer “yes, please”. The corner of his lips turn back into a smile. “That's my good little girl.”

It's not long before he groans as you feel his cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing his hot, salty seed down your throat, and you swallow every single drop. Maybe if I'm really good, he'll let me taste his blood again, you think to yourself.

You suck on his hardness a few more times through his climax, making sure to clean it from any remaining blood or come. When he stills, taking a second only to catch his breath, you finally release his dick with a loud pop, looking up to him with pride and lust in your eyes. 

He leans towards you, catching your face between his hands to crash your lips together, and you open your mouth, welcoming his tongue begging to taste himself on you. When he pulls back, a trail of your mixed saliva hangs between the two of you, and as he wipes it off from your lips with his thumb, he smears more of his blood on your face. You stick your tongue out trying to taste more, the scent alone driving you to the border of insanity.

“You've been so good to me, my sweet. Now,” he gets up, pulling you up on your feet again. “Let me show you what it means to be my consort. To be mine.”

You yelp as he takes you in his arms before throwing you on the bed, and climbs over you. Nothing could've prepared you for what came next, when he flipped you onto your belly, and pulled you back up by your throat.

“Look at yourself.”

Before you stood the large mirror you had ignored up until now, and in it, your very own reflection, along with Astarion's. You can't believe your eyes. Clearly you weren't a spawn, he told the truth all along, but then…

“What… am I?”

He leaves kisses over your shoulder, slowly making his way to your ear. “My beautiful consort. My precious little love. My greatest creation.” He leans over your shoulder, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers. 

“My bride.”

-

Come on, and feel alive, lover

Come on, and feel the love like a sinner

Shout it louder, shout it for the ones who could never say

I won't feel ashamed, mother

Can you break the chains off her?

Shout it louder, not a sinner, she's a lover

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 22

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: To say thank you for reaching 200 followers, I have decided to make this weekend a double Lost Sister update! So you won't have to wait long to see some certain reactions. Enjoy! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

The last few cadets straggling to get to battle brief swiftly move to the side as Melgren leads me through the corridors. He had to have been here already to get here so quickly.

Carr was quicker than I thought to get the news to the higher ups. Obviously eager to announce the newest signet in the quadrant. Or Melgren had instructed him to tell him when mine had manifested. And I had just been unlucky that the day I had chosen to tell Carr was a day Melgren was back. And somehow I knew that the later was the correct answer. Carr was to keep tabs on me. Tabs on my signet and how I was progressing.

Our footsteps echo off the walls of the empty corridors as he leads me over the bridge connecting the riders quadrant to the rest of the college. He leads me over to the administration building, and down to an office I had only seen a handful of times. General Sorrengail’s office.

Melgren opens the door and motions for me to head inside. I notice as soon as I enter the General isn’t here, but I could tell she had been recently with how the desk had been left. A candle wick still smoking from having recently been blow out. Obviously she had been instructed by Melgren to vacate it for our meeting seeing as he didn’t have an office in the college. And he would not risk drawing attention by taking me out of the college. But now it would be known outside of the college walls that Xaden Riorson had a sister, dragged into the spotlight on conscription day. Melgren walks past me as I stand in front of the desk, sitting in the chair as if it were his own. As if he owned everything here. Which technically in a way he did. General Sorrengail might be in charge of the college, but he oversaw our armies. His cold calculating eyes assess me, taking in every single detail of me. The now black and red hair, my skin now slightly more tanned and sun kissed from my time on Mealladh, and the new strength I had gained. But he didn’t seem to care about those details, almost seemed to dismiss them. I held myself differently now. I was no longer the scared naive little girl he had trained and honed. The girl I had pretended to be to appease him. Let him think he could control and command me. But now in front of him stood second in line to the Riorson name. The daughter of the leader of the rebellion. ”I hear my training has not gone to waste on you. Seems you’ve already made quite a name for yourself in the quadrant.” He drawls, his eyes finally meeting mine. ”Sadly it did not. Guess I have you to thank for my success.” I tell him bluntly as I take the generals office, walking over to a map on the wall that looks almost identical to the one we see in battle brief. ”You don’t sound too pleased about that. You should be thanking me for that training. Without it. Without me. You would be dead.” His tone venomous as he spits out the last part. ” Well technically I was dead till recently.” I throw back at him, earning a huff of amusement of him. I take in the details of the map in front of me. The details don’t match any map I have seen in battle brief. Either this is new and I am missing out on the update in the current class he has pulled me from. Or they’re hiding something. As I shift my attention from the map and back to Melgren as I turn and face him, I almost not a hint of nervousness. Something tells me they are hiding something. But its fleeting before a smug look takes over his features. A look I wish oh so badly I could wipe off his face. And one day I hoped I would. I wish he wasn’t the reason I was alive and thriving in the quadrant. But I was. Without his training I doubt I would have made it across that parapet. He had made me into what I was. He was the reason I was nearly proficient at all the weapons, had tied for the fastest time up the gauntlet, was doing so well with my signet. All of it was because of him and the training he had given me over the last five years. He was the reason I was alive.

”You we’re only dead to those who chose to believe it.” He drawls as he leans forward on the desk, motioning towards the chair I had chosen to ignore till now. “I never said to them you we’re dead. They just assumed.” I walk over and lower myself into the chair slowly, crossing my arms over my chest and resting an ankle on my opposite knee. The way he looks at me makes me want to run. Every fibre of my being tells me to run. But there’s no escape from him here. If I run he will just drag me back here or somewhere worse. I had to play his game, and hope I didn’t show how scared of him I was. Though that dwindled every day. Every day I got stronger. And one day I wouldn’t be afraid of him. His eyes flicker over to the patch that now adorns my uniform as of today. The compass patch I had earned due to my signet. My confidential signet.

”Carr has informed me of your signet. Psionic. Quite an unique signet. Though all the texts we have to hint towards such a thing are vague. All just ancient stories and fairy tails with no proof or merit to them. You are quite the enigma.” He drawls as a smirk forms on his face. “First you bond a dragon no one has ever heard of or seen, but clearly is one of the older dragons. And now you have a signet no one has ever heard of before.”

”Would you like a congratulations? An award for training me and preparing me for the quadrant and coming out with something none of you have seen before?” I snap back before I can think about it. My blood running cold. I had never spoken back like that to Melgren in the five years he had trained me. Knowing it would get me in a lot of trouble. But he just smiles. ”I mean we wouldn’t have found any of this if I hadn’t taken you with me that day. So I will take credit in a dragon and signet coming to light that can help our cause greatly. But for now I just want you to tell me about it so we can understand it.” He tells me as he stands and walks over the the bookshelf as if looking for something. ”For someone who only manifested their signet today there isn’t much I know. So far I can only control and move objects. Nothing else.” I tell him sternly as his fingers hover over the spines of the book.

”Carr seems to think you can do more. A lot more.” The way he turns his head and looks at me tells me he doesn’t believe something I’ve said. Either about what I can do or when it manifested. “But I guess we will have to wait and see what you can do as you train and strengthen it. If you can do anything like Carr predicts, you will be a great asset to us. Both you and that brother of yours.”

The glint in his eyes has my blood run cold again. Shit. I was naive to think I would be the only one he would be keeping tabs on. Of course he would be looking at Xaden as well. Probably hoping one of us would slip, give up something they we’re looking for. He walks back over to the desk, perching on the edge as he looks at me.

”Seems strong genes run in your family. Both you and your brother with powerful dragons and signets. But here’s hoping not everything runs in that family of yours.” I know with his emphasis on everything that he is referring to the rebellion our father had started. ”Tip toeing around the rebellion are we General?” I ask before I can stop myself. He looks at me almost impressed, as I bite back at him again. Not a look I was use to from him in regards to me.

”No point tip toeing around it. Just making sure you know what is at stake here. Don’t want you marked ones planning something. Not when we need every strong and capable rider we have with fewer and fewer dragons bonding every year.” I look him sternly in the eyes, and hope my words are convincing and he doesn’t see right through them. “We’ve already had our lives gambled with before. Watched our parents pay the price. Don’t exactly plan on ending up with the same fate General.” The smile he gives me in response doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Sending chills down my spine. God did he put me on edge. He didn’t trust us. None of them did. And none of them ever will while we had these marks on our skin. We would be constantly fighting to fit in here for the rest of our lives, and would never get the same respect as those without the marks. But hopefully one day we wouldn’t. If Xaden could pull off whatever he had planned, we would get out freedom back. But there was so much I still didn’t know. Not yet. But I knew better than to push Xaden. He would let me in fully when he was ready. Or when we didn’t have higher ups watching me so closely. ”I would like to hope not. But in my experience you lot seem to like gambling with your lives when it comes to those you care about. Willing to do anything to get revenge. Especially that friend of your brothers. Garrick was it?” He asks as if challenging me to react. I don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction as my heart skips a beat. Not only were Xaden and I under his watch, it seemed Garrick was as well. He may not have reacted to the movement on conscription day, but something tells me that Melgren noted Garrick’s movement on conscription day. Had noted his reaction to throwing that bag at Xaden’s feet that day. Unlike Xaden, Garrick had reacted to anything Melgren had done in regards to me. Even today he had gone to rush forward as he had appeared in the doorway to battle brief. Melgren may have appeared to have his attention elsewhere. But I knew he had noted everything Garrick had done since that day he had let them think I was dead. I had no doubt he had watched as Garrick had flown in instantly after I had landed after threshing. And now with confirmation Carr was in league with Melgren, I had no doubt some of the other professors were acting as Melgren's eyes and ears. I stand and smile at him. “Do you require anything else from me General? I’d like to get back to my classes.” Trying to end the conversation before he could get a reaction out of me. He merely nods. “That is all for now Riorson. Just remember to keep me updated on that signet of yours.” And with that he nods towards the door before pushing off the desk and turning back to the bookshelf. I don’t hesitate before turning on my heal and head towards the door. My muffled footsteps echoing around the now eerily quiet room. I push open the door of General Sorrengail’s office to meet the eyes of that General across the corridor as she watches me exit. The women who had overseen the execution of our parents. The women who stood there and did nothing as Melgren dragged me away from my father. Stood there and did nothing. But as I meet her eyes I detect a hint of sadness in my mind. Sadness and regret? And before I know it’s gone. As if it had been a fleeting memory that had crossed her mind and had quickly pushed it away. I quickly bow my head at her before turning and walking as quickly as I can back to the quadrant.

Part 23

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