#don't spoil me maid boy

[hatsumishinogu]

Amayakasanaide Maid-kun! Vol.1

[a-s-ter]

"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You sat at the long, luxurious dinner table while the maid nervously watched you eat the food prepared for you. As you took a bite, the maid grew anxious, eyes fixed on your every move. Moments later, a displeased expression crossed your face, and the maid seemed to brace herself for what was to come, as if she had expected it.

"blech!" you spat the meal you were eating. "This is disgusting! Make me another one!" you shouted, throwing the plate of food to the ground, shattering it into pieces. You glared at the maid, who nodded and hurriedly began picking up the broken fragments from the floor.

As the maid cleaned, your impatience mounted. "Move faster!" you demanded. Startled, she flinched, causing the shattered glass to prick her skin, blood seeping from the cuts.

You didn't care. The sight of her blood, her pain—none of it mattered to you. You were a just brat after all.

"Hurry up! I'm growing impatient, you vermin!" you scolded, your harsh words causing tears to well up in her eyes. She nodded quickly and, once done cleaning the mess, ran off to get your new food.

"He wants another dish." the maid announced to the weary chefs. It was the fourth meal you had dismissed.

"Again? What does that brat even like?!" one chef groaned, exasperated. "He's just toying with us. He enjoys seeing us suffer because he has all that power," another chef complained.

The butler, Kyzer, heard their conversation as he passed through the hallways. The chefs and maid flinched when he entered the kitchen. "S-Sir Kyzer!" bowed the maid.

"Oh, Kyzer, what brings you here?" a male chef inquired.

"Pardon me but I accidentally overheard one of your discussion regarding the unfortunate incident with the prince. It saddens me that the boy has, for the fourth time, squandered your hard-prepared meals. I intend to address this matter with him personally, in the hope of curbing this unacceptable behavior." Kyzer declared, his words resonating deeply with the maid and the chefs.

"Kyzer, we appreciate it, but you don't have to do that! We can handle him... I think?" another chef responded, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"I must. I don't want your hard work and efforts to go to waste," Kyzer said firmly, his resolve clear.

"K-kyzer, you're so kind to us!" one of the chefs exclaimed, clearly moved by his actions. "I just don't understand why M/n can't be more like you—polite, kind, and well-mannered, instead of such a brat!"

"Well, he's been surrounded by abundance and luxury his whole life. His parents never taught him proper etiquette, so I suppose that's why he turned out that way," another chef remarked.

"Hm... Would you also like me to teach him a thing or two?" "

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Kyzer! Please change his behavior if you can," the chefs pleaded, bowing deeply in gratitude.

"I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me," Kyzer said, bowing before leaving the kitchen. He walked purposefully through the grand hallways of the kingdom toward the dining room where you were waiting.

A few minutes later, Kyzer arrived and opened the large door to the dining room. There you were, sitting alone at the long table, surrounded by empty chairs, waiting impatiently for your food with an annoyed cute expression on your face.

You turned to look at him, his long white hair and piercing yellow eyes sending a chill down your spine. "Who are you? And where is that maid? Why is she taking so long? Ugh!" you grumbled, sounding like a spoiled child.

"My name is Kyzer, your highness," he introduced himself, bowing deeply with one hand on his chest and the other arm behind his back. "The maid is in the kitchen, and it takes time to prepare a new dish for you, your highness." he explained, maintaining his respectful bow.

"Then make them cook faster. I'm getting impatient here!" you demanded, scrutinizing Kyzer from head to toe.

"I'm afraid I cannot your highness. I'm here for other reasons," Kyzer replied, straightening up.

"What?! How dare a lowly butler like you defy my orders?!" you exclaimed, shocked by his refusal. "What even is your reason here?" you demanded, glaring at him.

"You."

"W-what?" you responded, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm here because of you, Your Highness," he said, his yellow eyes boring into yours.

You felt a twinge of nervousness under his intense glare, but you weren't one to back down. Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted. "Me? What for? If it's something insignificant, you get out of my sight!"

"Oh, Your Highness, it's far from unimportant because it's about you."

"About me!? Just what are you trying to say?" you replied while staring at him with perplexity and fury.

He was starting to get on your nerves.

"It's about your behavior and manners, Your Highness. They need to change—"

You snapped, standing up abruptly and grabbing a wine glass. You threw it at him, but it missed and shattered against the wall instead.

"Don't try and give me lessons about behavior and manners, it won't work on me you imbecile!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the grand dining room. As you met his gaze, you flinched at the intensity of his icy glare fixed on you.

You were slowly getting on his nerves.

Somehow, you felt a twinge of regret for your actions, but what was done was done, and there was no turning back. "I'm giving you a chance. I'll let this slide for now!" you scoffed, striding towards him and 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder as you headed for the door. "Tell the maids to clean up the mess." you ordered, but he said nothing.

Weird.

Just as you were about to open the door, he grabbed you roughly by the hair, eliciting a pained sound from you. He threw you to the floor, and you landed hard on your backside, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing!? If my parents hear about this, your head will be cut off!" you yelled, staring up at him, though part of you wished you hadn't. Behind those intense yellow eyes, you sensed something ominous lurking. Something telling you that something bad was about to happen.

"This is your last chance."

"Change. Your. Behavior."

You chuckled, "And why should I?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly.

"People are suffering because of you. Your crude and mean comments, your filthy mouth—they need to be purified. And I know you didn't receive proper etiquette, so I'm willing to teach you." he explained.

"Purified!? fuck off! They deserve it. I don't care whether I hurt their feelings or not, they're lowlifes! They don't deserve to be treated the same way. And those chefs and maids? They're just servants, working for us. They're poor, probably came from the gutter, ew! They don't deserve special treatment like us royals!" you retorted venomously.

And then he finally snapped.

As he walked towards you, confusion clouded your expression. "What are you doing—" but your words were cut off as he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you onto the table. You struggled to pry his hands away, but he was too strong.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you shouted at him, but he ignored your protests. With a swift motion, he threw you onto the table, and you cried out in surprise. Landing with a thud, you quickly placed both palms on the table, using it to support your weight.

As you tried to regain your composure. He forcefully stripped off your pants and underwear, leaving your lower body exposed. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Stop! What are you doing with those filthy hands of yours!" you cried out, feeling utterly vulnerable and violated.

You found yourself facing away from him, your exposed backside vulnerable and humiliating. As you attempted to look back at him, he forcefully shoved your head to the ground with his hand, preventing any movement. Struggling to rise, you found yourself pinned in place, utterly helpless.

"S-stop this instant! Someone could walk in here at any moment, you idiot!" you pleaded desperately, but he only inched his face closer to your ear.

"Count." he whispered.

"W-what?"

Smack!

"Wah!" you gasped in surprise as the sharp stinging sensation of his hand striking your exposed ass jolted through you.

"I said, count." he repeated.

"H-how dare you tell me what to do—"

Smack!!

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he delivered a firmer blow to your backside, the sensation igniting a mixture of pain and arousal that pulsed through your body.

"If you don't count, Your Highness, it'll only get worse and harsher," he warned, caressing your slightly reddened ass. "So please do as I say." he urged, his voice soft yet commanding.

Smack!

"O-one," you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Smack!

"T-two..."

Smack!

"T—..three." you breathed out, your face pressed down onto the table. Each smack sent a jolt of sensation through you, a mixture of pain and a strange, exhilarating—....pleasure?

He seemed to be truly enjoying your reactions, relishing in the cute gasps and flinches you let out. A smile spread across his lips as he gently paused the spanks, caressing your ass for a moment before resuming with renewed vigor.

Smack!

"f-four!"

As the spanking continued, it eventually came to a halt when you ceased to respond. Sensing your exhaustion, he removed his hand from atop your head, understanding that you had no energy left to fight. Your rear end was now red and throbbing, you had lost track of the count. With gentle care, he soothen your reddened cheeks, offering a moment of relief and comfort.

"How many was it, Your Highness?" His voice was tender as he sought to ground you in the moment.

"I... I don't know," you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible over the echo of pain.

"It's 26, Your Highness," he informed you, his fingers coaxing your face to meet his gaze. As you turned to look at him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. Your flushed cheeks, those endearing hiccups, those captivating eyes, those cute lips...

Fuck... Every aspect of you stirred an undeniable attraction within him, you were turning him on.

He gazed at your lips, inching his face closer to yours, slowly, deliberately. You tried to turn away, but he held your face firmly in place. He was so close, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, close enough to taste your plump lips...

Knock, knock!

The sound jarred him from the moment, a surge of frustration coursing through him. Damn it, he had forgotten they were at the dining table.

"Your Highness, your food is ready," the maid's voice came from outside the door.

"Now, if you cause another disturbance, you'll face another punishment. You don't want that, do you?" he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"F-fuck you... L-let me go and get my pants! T-this is an order," you demanded weakly, still exhausted from the pain and the effort of keeping your screams contained so the maids wouldn't become suspicious and barge in.

Kyzer was going to follow your orders, but his eyes darted down to your shaft, which was standing up confidently. "Are you sure, Your Highness? You're quite... hard down there. You wouldn't want an uncomfortable erection, would you?" he taunted, his hand lowering from your ass to your shaft.

"N-no, it'll go down. Stop!" you stammered, but a moan escaped your lips as he touched you. "Look at this cute little cock, so pretty, just like its owner," Kyzer murmured, beginning to stroke you. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" the maid called from outside, oblivious to what was happening inside the room. Kyzer continued to stroke you slowly, the deliberate pace heightening your frustration.

"H-hurry up!" you ordered, your voice strained with urgency.

"You want me to hurry? Then beg for it, Your Highness," he smirked, his hand engulfing your tiny lil sensitive cock.

You were embarrassed and humiliated at this point. You, a prince, begging for something? It infuriated you, but the thought of your reputation being ruined drove you to comply.

"P-please hurry up, please let—hng!...M-me cum." you begged, your teary eyes locking with his mischievous yellow ones. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying your submission.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, his pace quickening as he stroked you up and down, causing your back to arch off the table.

"Mmhp!?" you moaned, drool seeping from your mouth as you tried to stifle your sounds with your hand. He began to tease the tip of your cock with his index finger, swirling it clockwise.

"Your Highness, please let me hear those beautiful moans... Please let me hear how good I’m making you feel," he whispered. Lost in the pleasure, you obliged, moaning louder, no longer able to control yourself.

"That's it," he breathed, his lustful eyes fixed on your flushed face. Drool was seeping from your mouth, your cheeks were a deep shade of red, and your eyebrows were scrunched up in pure ecstasy. The sight of you like this almost made him cum in his pants. "That's a good boy." he grinned, his own arousal evident as he continued to bring you closer to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Your Highness?" Kyzer's voice dripped with seduction, his smile widening as he saw you lost in pleasure. "Fuck... You're so adorable when you're messed up." His face flushed as he leaned in, licking the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sensation made you shiver, and he grinned, quickening his pace.

"Nngh—!... Ahh! I-I'm gon' c-cum!!" you cried out, your body trembling as you threw your head back.

"Cum for me, Your Highness. Be a good boy and cum for me."

"A-ahh~!" Your cute little cock spurted, painting the marble floor with streaks of white as you panted heavily, sweat glistening on your skin.

"Well done, Your Highness. I'm very proud of you~♡" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I knew you could do it." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Your Highness? Are you there?" the maid called from outside the door, her voice filled with concern.

"Let's get you dressed up, yeah?" Kyzer said softly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. He retrieved your discarded clothing, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you back into your garments. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he adjusted your clothing with meticulous care.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure making it difficult to stand. Kyzer's hands were steady, though, guiding you through each movement as he redressed you.

"Remember, Your Highness," he murmured, his lips close to your ear, "I will change your behavior. This is just the beginning." He smirked.

Once you were fully dressed, he took a step back, his eyes scanning you with satisfaction. "There you go, presentable as ever." He straightened his own attire, ensuring he looked impeccable before turning towards the door.

As he opened it, the maid stood waiting with your meal. "Your food, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

Kyzer gave you one last meaningful glance, his eyes lingering on yours. "Enjoy your meal your highness." he said smoothly, before stepping aside to let the maid through.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

the platonic little sister relationship aegon has to someone like reader 😭 i hope we can see more, but like without the darkness of house of the dragon nor gore of it, just aegon ii staring at his little sister and vowing the world and even the throne for her, relinquishing it the first chance that he gets to rhaenyra whilst in tears holding his littlest sister 😭 he wishes no throne, no treasures, no liquor, only her safety and nothing more. i can imagine him trying to escape with her to the free lands because she is the only good in his world and he’d be damned if he let otto try and spoil the only kindness that the gods have give him. i can also imagine him stowing away on his dragon and flying on dragonback to the blacks to proclaim his loyalty with little reader bundled up in his cloak. i can imagine him fiercely protective but also relenting when he knows she is happy, being by her side as her older brother and uncle to her children to whomever it may be 😭

(sorry for the long anon, i just wish to see more 😭)

- familial issues anon 😔

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

author notes: I promise, I'm gonna write a fluffy part 3 after this.. pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Younger Sister! Reader ( Platonic ) prompt: When Blood and Cheese attack, the feeling of being safe in the Red Keep dies along with your sweet nephew and son. word count: 1, 000+ words

The night of Blood and Cheese, you had wandered into the children's bedchamber. Something pulled you from your dreams, telling you that the children needed you. You did not know a thing. The night was quiet and cool, the gentle pouring of rain filling the air. Everyone was safe and content. No harm could come to any of you with Vhagar in the City. But, as you got closer and closer, blissfully unaware.

You did not know the horrors that awaited you. Helaena held at knife point, her eyes so wide and full of silent horror. Your son cuddled up next to Jaehaera and Jaehaerys like he always did, all three of them dead asleep and unaware. Two men, one tall and imposing. The other thin and chuckling like a mad man. A debt they said, "A son for a son."

A son for a son. A son for a son. The world that that point is going silent and you think of was, why? Why? Why? Why?

You don't remember much of anything, no matter how much you tried to, just the muffled screams and sound of flesh being cut. You stumbled and wandered down the empty halls of the Red Keep, a dead look on your face. A thousand unspoken words on your tongue.

A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. Where the fuck were the guards? Where were the maids? Where was everyone? They liked to snoop, so why this time were they gone?

You did not know when Helaena had departed from your side. You just vaguely remembered bumping into one of Aegon's friends, the drunken smile on his face falling. His face went pale and a stuttered call for Aegon.

Staring dead at the man, you could not remember his name, just that he was kind and one of Aegon's friends. Feeling your bottom lip wobble, you tried to hold back the sobs, emotions bubbling up. Feeling familiar hands on your shoulder, you dreadfully become aware of the wetness in your nightgown, though it was not your monthly blood or rain that soaked the linen. The realization trickled in that it was blood sinking in. Blood. Jaehaerys blood. Your son's blood.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, look at me, not the blood. Tell me what's happened." A voice faintly orders, "Y/n, look at me. Look at me."

Blinking back the tears that bubbled up, your vision clears up, seeing Aegon standing right in front of you. He reeks of strongwine. But, the look on his face was deadly sober. Seeing his lips moving, you couldn't hear him, the haunting sound of Jaehaerys and your son slowly being beheaded still ringing in your ears. Son for a son. A son for a son. Jaehaerys was just a boy. He was barely six years old. A baby. Helaena's baby. Your boy was a year his younger, only five.

"You weren't there. Why weren't you there?" You hiccup, "You were always there. Why weren't you there?!"

"Y/n?"

"You said you'd be there if we were in trouble. That⎯That⎯That if we need you, you would be there. Why weren't you there? Why weren't you there?!" You scream out, your pained voice echoing loudly.

"Who's blood is that? Where is your son?" Aegon asks, his face and voice of panic.

Son for a son. A son for a son. Son for a son. A son for a son. Your son. Why him? He wasn't Aegon's heir. He wasn't Aegon's son in any way. He wasn't anyone's but your own. Your baby. Your sweet baby. Why did they pick him? He was no threat. He was just sleeping. He wasn't harming anyone.

"Gods damn it, Y/n! Where is your son?! Where is he?! Who's blood is that?" He demands, "Tell me, tell me."

"The...They took his head..The boy...My boy..Blood..He's in the bed...They came from the walls..Helaena.." You choke out, not able to properly string together a sentence.

Bursting into a fit of tears, the throne exploded into chaos the moment tears were spilled, orders and demands being spouted out to anyone in ear shot. Why? Why? Why? The Red Keep was safe. Aegon told you it was safe. It was supposed to be safe. That they would not dare to harm any of you. It was supposed to be safe.

'You will never have to marry again. You and your son are under my protection. No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister. I swear upon it.' He had said, tucking back a strand of hair from your face.

'No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister. I swear upon it.'

'No harm shall come to you whilst you stay in the Red Keep, sweet sister.

'No harm shall come to you...I swear upon it.'

When did your big brother become such a fucking liar?

Watching you collapse to the ground, Aegon swiftly follows you to the ground, cuddling you close to his chest. He may have been a little tipsy, but now he was dead sober. You stumbled in, looking more like a ghost than a person. Your hair down, you always loved to leave it down when going to bed. Your nightgown, white with little butterflies sewn into the hem, now stained in blood. Who's? He did not know and dreaded finding out.

Stroking your hair tenderly, he prayed, truly prayed for the first time since his youth. Not for your safe return home. Not for his Father's love or a fragment of his time. Not for the Seven to rid him of all the bad in him. He prayed that you were just spouting out about some nightmare. That this was just like all those times in your youth, when you'd sneak into his chambers. A whimpering mess, spouting about the monster under your bed.

"It's just a dream. It's just a dream." Aegon tries to reassure, not sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"Aegon, what⎯what⎯what do we do?" One of his friends stutters out, a shell shocked look on his face.

"Get the fucking guards! Wake the fucking Keep up! Damn it!" Aegon bellows, his face flushing red from anger.

Struggling to figure out what to focus on, he couldn't keep up as the Red Keep seemingly exploded. Guards are everywhere. Orders being spouted out. He wasn't sure if his voice was one of them. It was all just a blur. This could not be real. This had to be a nightmare or a figment of his drunken mind. Soon enough he would awake. You'd come into his chamber's like you do every morning, warning him that your Mother was on her way. Yes, yes, that was it. He would wake up and everything would be good.

"Aegon. Aegon." Someone calls out for him, his grip tightening on you instinctively.

"Your grace, the Prince Jaehaerys and Prince⎯" A guard stops speaking, the look on his face enough to make his blood cold.

"No, they are alright. Tis' just a minor wound, no?" Aegon shakes his head, not wanting to think of the worse. "Just a bloody nose or.."

"Your grace.." The guard shakes his head, "I am afraid tis' more grave than a bloody nose."

Feeling tears bubbling up in his eyes, he shakes his head, laughing bitterly in disbelief. This could not be true. This had to be some jest. Some dream of his. There was no way that his son and your own were dead. The Red Keep was safe. Rhaenyra would be a fool to attack with Vhagar flying above. Hearing your wails grow louder and more heart wrenching, it felt like the world just fucking snapped. Tears of sadness morphing into red hot anger. His face hardening.

They killed your son. They killed his son, his heir. They fucking made you cry. They made you and Helaena watch. Fuck the peace treaty. Fuck being kind and being cordial. Fuck doing this the proper way. Fuck all of them. He'd killed them. He'd kill them all for this. He'd kill anyone who dared to do this. He'd fucking murder all of their bloodline for this. This was war. This was fucking war.

"I'll kill them! I'll kill them all! Traitor's and murderer's!"

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[lovelywetdreamer]

🔥~Zuko Smut~🔥

Zuko is 25 years old in this. You are his wife.

On your honeymoon with Firelord Zuko, he is too nervous to touch you. He has been a firebender for 25 years now. He has control but with your legs spread apart for him. He was scared he might burn the bed down. He is too eager to touch you. When he finally lines his tip against your cunt, he burns the bedpost.

"Good boy", "You fuck me so well", and "I love you Zuko," these are just a couple of phrases that push him over the edge. You can't tell him Zuko don't go crazy over praise in the bed.

Zuko loves how your body trembles and becomes needy when dripping candles on your body.

Zuko won't let you touch him until he has you squirmed and your thighs locked him up. You actually have to tie him up to let him touch him. He too much of a giver.

Zuko goes pure feral when you pull and tug on his long locks. He cums in his underwear when you pull his hair while he eats you out. He digs his dick deeper into you when you pull on it.

Zuko won't share you with anybody. Only his cum he leaks from your pussy.

Zuko will not let the maid bathe you. He will bathe his queen. He carries you to bed bridal style. He will spoil you with aftercare until you drift into deep slumber.

[kishibe-kisser]

A request for the genshin boys having a sweetheart that is an amazing cook and baker? Like they cook the most delicious foods for them when they get home! And is good at cleaning too. Like having a domestic housewife. Could you please include Zhongli, Alhaitham, Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, and Kazuha? Thank you!

Ask p.2: I’m following up on the request for the genshin boys having a sweetheart that can cook. You don’t have to do Itto or Kazuha. Sorry I just now read requests can have up to four characters. Sorry again!

A/N: It's okay!!! I hope you like this

Zhongli:

While he might have an air of nostalgia to him, when it comes to you he's not as old fashioned as everyone might think.

The first time he came home from after work to a home cooked meal and a fully cleaned house, he was grateful but a little unsure of what to think of it all. The food was delicious, the dessert even better and the house was absolutely spotless.

Which led to him pulling you into his lap as he sat at the head of the table, stroking your sides gently and looking into your eyes. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" He would ask, making sure you knew that this wasn't a necessity if you wanted to be with him.

Once you reassured him it was because you wanted to, he let himself relax and enjoy it. Feeling great everytime he got home to find everything had already been done and a warm meal on the table. He'd gladly make you his little housewife any day.

He would never come to expect it though, gladly picking up the cleaning chores when you couldn't or treating you to a meal in return.

"If you're sure this is what you want to do, I won't stop you. Just let me help every once in a while."

Alhaitham:

It was definitely different, coming home to a house that smelled like food cooking or like something baking in the oven. It was something he could get used to.

Especially in the morning, waking up to an empty bed and the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. While he normally didn't like waking up in the morning, you certainly changed that. Especially when fresh baked bread was sitting on the counter.

Not to mention when he worked from home, finding all of his documents neat, labelled and easy to find. He loved that you took care of him like this. It was simply nice to come home to a neat and comfortable environment.

While he wasn't one to express gratitude in words, you could tell in the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, kissing the side of your neck as you cooked breakfast. Or in the way he would gently shield you as you opened a cabinet too quick or got too close to the corner of a table or desk.

Not to mention he liked watching you cook too. It was so attractive to watch you, even that he would let you know in the way he touched you. His hands lingering on your hips a little longer than normal, or turning the stove burners off to pull you aside.

"I know I don't say it alot but all you do for me, it means the world."

Diluc

"You know I have maids for that." He'd say, the first time he caught you cleaning around the house. Wrapping his arms around your waist to pull the duster from your hands. You would have to put him in his place a little, telling him you enjoy cleaning for him.

The remarks stopped the moment he ate the food you had cooked for him though, appreciating the time and care put into the meal even though you knew you didn't have to.

It's not that Diluc would expect you to do this for him, not at all. But when it became common practice, he had to admit he enjoyed it. Finding pastries in his clean study when he would go to work, or a packed dinner when he would work at the tavern.

"You're spoiling me too much. Keep at it and I might get used to it." He would mumble into your neck as you stirred the pot of food in front of you. He would spoil you with touches and small gifts, a thank you for the way you take care of him out of love and not like the others for money. A pretty necklace for his beautiful house wife.

"It's only fair I spoil you in return."

Kaeya

The man who never thought he would settle down crumbled at the sight of you preparing the table for him when he got home, knowing you were the one from that instant.

He had been travelling for a while but never anticipated to coming home to a full meal, dessert and a clean home. Not to mention the way you looked at him. It would have him on one knee so fast.

When it became a regular thing he was more than excited about it, so happy someone was willing to spend their time to take care of him. He would practically cry admitting how much it meant to him. "I don't think you understand how wanted it makes me feel to have you take care of me this way."

The knights of Favonius would be absolutely sick and tired of him gushing over the food you packed him for lunch or the way he bragged about the way you took care of him. He was so happy about it Jean even came over one day to make sure he wasn't making you do it.

"Can I help you, dear?" He would most definitely help anytime he was home and things needed to be done. He might have liked watching you but he wasn't a barbarian, he'd help you. Kissing you quickly every time he walked past you or tickling you with the feather duster.

"No one can believe how lucky I am to have you and well, neither can I."

A/N: I wrote this in record time too because inspo suddenly struck me for this request! Anyways the way feminism leaves my body for Diluc is concerning.

[noroi1000]

Can I request a part 2 of the evil queen ff ( gojo x reader ) where a woman wants to take the place of queen y/n ( not obviously knowing how powerful y/n is ) possibly by trying to show she’s much better than queen y/n when she can’t even be compared to her and tries seducing gojo ( which doesn’t work ) and become a mistress/concubine of his and then become the queen lol even having the audacity to think so bcs now both y/n n gojo have twin sons ( each of them look like their parents exactly but are momma’s boys lol ). I hope u understood what i’m trying to say haha

Have a nice day 🌸

Evil Queen 2

Warnings: NSFW King Gojo x Queen reader

"My lady, do you really think this is a good idea? I heard that queen (y/n)–"

"I don't need your advice. I don't care who this (y/n) is. Don't you think I'd make a better queen?" she asked with a smile as her maid dyed her lips a juicy pink.

She was a guest there.

In your castle.

As the daughter of one of the most powerful rulers, she was their guest of honor. They could not give her any other accommodation than royal.

Only that was possible.

She and her father were on a diplomatic trip to a farther kingdom to realize her royal engagement.

But she had other motives and plans.

She didn't want to go on to marry some ordinary prince.

She wanted a king who was powerful and handsome. Rich and young.

A twenty-eight-year-old king with a wife and two children?

He's an easy bite for her.

Especially since he was into her taste.

Tall and handsome.

She was mainly concerned with his status, since she would be the mate of the king of such a powerful and wealthy kingdom.

That was all it was about.

She did not want to be a princess of the state.

She wanted to be queen.

If she became Gojo Satoru's concubine, maybe at some point she would be so appreciated that the king would divorce his wife so that she would sit on the throne with him. To dethrone his wife, any was his concubine and bore him children if they wanted.

She doesn't want a baby. She wants to rule.

And he already has an heir. That's why they don't need to have a baby.

But if he wanted to... Let him do what he wants.

According to her, men want only one thing.

All she has to do is undress in front of him and show what she wants. And he is hers.

Men only think about sex.

And when they see a naked woman ready to give herself to them, they lose their minds about it.

"My lady, you would certainly make a suitable queen, but—"

"Suitable? I'd be the perfect queen!" She snarled. "Do my lips look luscious and full enough yet? Is that enough to make him unable to look away?"

"My lady, you certainly look beautiful. But what are you planning?" asked the maid as the woman stood up.

"What am I planning? Of course I want to be married to King Satoru!"

"But his wife-"

"I can dethrone his wife." she laughed. "A king can do anything. And I'm sure he didn't have much fun with her since they have two children."

"D-Dethrone?"

"Yes. I will be his concubine. He will love my body and me. So he'll prefer someone who hasn't been pregnant. I have the body of a teenage girl, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure the King would prefer the body of a teenage girl to his wife..." whispered the maid.

"What were you saying?"

"N-Nothing." She replied quickly.

"So I will be his concubine. And in time he will marry me, throwing his wife lower because he will love me. And a woman like her can't do anything to me! A mother with two children? haha! Would I be scared?!"

She suddenly left her chamber and saw in the corridor two white-haired boys walking towards the throne room with their uncle.

If not for the king, she would surely go to his right hand and best friend.

But she wanted to rule the kingdom as queen.

"Good morning, princes." She said smiling at the children.

They looked at her with their blue eyes and kept walking, holding the hands of their black-haired uncle who completely ignored her.

He really didn't like spoiled princesses like her.

She followed them a few meters to the throne room.

Where she saw her king she wanted to get.

And also you next to him when you stood with him at the window.

The children started running towards you and you smiled.

They were four years old and similar to Satoru. In appearance, and sometimes in character. However, there was one thing about them, except that they weren't quite like their father.

As your husband got down on one knee to catch his sons in his arms, they ran past, leaving his smile frozen.

He was hurt but still happy.

His kids just missed him...

Your sons ran to you, clinging to your legs.

Your sons are mommy's boys.

This was their characteristic.

So is your husband, who is also mommy's boy. But you're like his mommy.

Even though they love you both as parents.

Your husband turned to you with a small smile.

And your children suddenly attacked him, clinging to his chest.

"Your Majesty."

Someone interrupted his moment...

Who dared?!

He turned his head, looking at the woman in the dress behind him. Cursing slightly in front of him.

"what?" he asked, standing up but keeping his hands on his sons' heads.

He didn't care what she thought of him.

"Your Majesty... May I ask you in private? I'd like to talk to you about something." She said with a pleasant smile.

Even though there were dark intentions behind that smile.

"If you have an issue, speak now. I don't have time."

"My Father told me to talk to you about this in private. No unnecessary people." She looked at you condescendingly.

You hated people like that.

They say that damn princess doesn't know anything about you.

Satoru looked at you questioningly, waiting for you to help him. You nodded, signaling him to do so.

Besides, it can't last long.

But you get the feeling you know what she's talking about.

Judging from her dress and the lack of some items that she always wore and were necessary to look presentable.

You saw your husband disappear behind the wall, and you took care of your sons.

Oh, if what you think really happens, you're going to have to do something about Satoru.

Even if it wasn't his fault, he could get a little punishment.

Or a reward if he's a good boy.

"What do you want?" he asked sharply as he stood outside her chamber door as she closed the door.

"My king, you don't have to be so cold. We both know that I always want the best for you." She giggled.

"I'm in a hurry, so hurry up." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh yes. Of course, your majesty." She suddenly walked over to him and her hands shot up to his chest. Her body began to push against him until she reached up with one hand to untie the string at the back of her dress. "We two know what we need, don't we?"

His eyes looked at her with disgust.

"Need a second partner? A partner who will take care of your needs while she takes care of the children? I can become it, my king. I can be everything to you. Give you everything you ever dreamed of. I'll be better than your wife."

"Hold on." He growled, pushing her away.

She held her dress across her chest so she wouldn't stand naked in front of him.

Not yet.

She went a little too far.

Sure, she might have been trying to seduce him. Because that wouldn't work anyway.

Nice try, but he's married. He will not be so easily corruptible.

Bribes from a woman's body don't work on him.

Unless it was you.

Then if he had to choose between something and you, he chooses you.

And his mind, instead of thinking about having a woman capable of undressing for him now, was thinking about whether you'd be able to punish him if you found out.

Now if you could see this eager bitch wanting to get his cock as a bribe, you'd laugh.

This princess didn't know what you were capable of.

You were able to protect your family, especially children, from destruction.

That's why if you saw it, she'd be dead by now.

He didn't need someone important to die. That's why he wanted it to end quickly.

Because he can't promise that nothing will happen.

He did not want to wage war on their country for the fact that the princess died. Even though this war would be another win for him...

He had no desire. He preferred to take care of his beloved sons instead of playing wars.

"My king?" She groaned.

"Your tricks don't work on me." He said and walked past her. Completely ignoring the fact that she's standing there. "Give it a rest. I've seen many times where a woman wanted to seduce a rich man to win favor. This primitive method doesn't work for me."

Because he only became primitive around your body.

Only you could drive him to something that would make him lose himself in pleasure.

"If you want to live, don't do it again."

And suddenly he left her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Remind you when my ribbon was tied around your dick? Do you miss it?"

"Do you have that ribbon?"

"you ruined it. I had to throw it away." You laughed, sitting on his stomach as he lay on his back on the bed.

"You want to punish me like a bad boy?" He gave you a playful smile.

"Our kids told me you were coming out of her bedroom." You gave him a winning smile.

You know nothing happened. Because your children would react differently.

"My little ones are smart~" he hummed.

"I know you remember exactly the day we fathered them." You put your finger on his lips to keep him from saying anything. "The way you moaned against me and your eyes begged for touch. Should I do the same now? To make sure you only beg for me?"

He purred as his hand rubbed your thigh.

"Do you want me to make you beg? Maybe then you can explain what happened there." You laughed.

There was excitement in him.

"I know you know exactly that she knows that she could never beat me. It doesn't matter what. In everything, I win with her, right."

"You're so much better than her." He groaned, wanting to grab your finger between his pink lips.

"I win with her even more when it comes to pleasing my husband. I wouldn't let some whore fuck my husband. You will not hurt me. And you will not hurt our children."

He smiled because he knew you weren't being completely serious.

Your voice was also playful.

"Only my wife can fully satisfy me." He hummed, encouraging you to expand on this conversation of yours.

You didn't just have to talk.

You could have shown him that you were his only woman.

His ideal.

Everything for him. Everything he has.

"The only woman I'll touch is you... Aah..." he moaned as you moved your hips in a fluid motion. So smooth. Bouncing on his cock in a pleasant rhythm.

His wrists bound as he placed the fingers of both hands on your thigh, feeling your walls tighten around him.

Only you could see him like this.

Make him a moaning mess when you kiss and touch him. And your intimate places are connected.

"Fuck... I love you so much..."

"I told you not to curse. If the kids can hear." You said with a small smile, wiping sweat from your forehead as you traced your finger across his jaw.

"There are no children here. So please, I want to say anything and do anything with my damn sexy wife..."

"Won't wrists be enough for you?" you laughed, circling his hips.

"I only touch my wife. And that's all I want. Let me fuck you..."

"You're impatient. You could always ask nicely. Come on honey. I know you can show that you only want me~"

"Please..." He groaned as he felt you tighten around him. Tight.

"Toru~ I don't know what you're asking for..."

"I want to fuck you." He said louder. His cheeks flushed pink.

"Then fuck me." You kissed his lips, feeling him smile into the kiss.

He moved his bound hands over your head, allowing you to put your arms between his hands. And then he held you as you lay on his stomach, kissing him passionately as your thrusts met.

His hands around your waist pressed you against him as his hips pushed up to seek more of your warmth, even as he entered you to the hilt, demolishing your insides.

His breath quivered, and so did yours as he dug in hard and held on, snuggling against your neck.

You stroked his hair.

Long teasing foreplay always made him come a little faster than usual. But it still allowed you to have a satisfying orgasm sooner.

His hips jumped as you leaned against him, pulling him in tight.

Your walls sucked him in, not wanting to let out a millimeter of his penis.

His mouth was open as you put your head next to his, and you whispered very softly into his ear with your warm breath.

"Cum." You said and felt his body tense as he let out a guttural groan, biting your arm to make a mark.

His warm fluids began to fill you.

And his moans filled your ears.

"Fuck, I love you so much..." He groaned.

Only you.

Always only you. No one else.

Only his beloved queen could be so close to him

[thepettymachine]

Not So Berry Plus Challenge for the TS3

I just wanted more for the TS3 version of this challenge and honestly, who wouldn't. I didn't create this challenge, I simply added and modified somethings to fit more for what TS3 has to offer while trying to keep to the NSB playstyle and heart of the challenge. So if you like the NSB but want more to do in the TS3 version of it, this is a challenge for you.

Disclaimer: I didn't make this challenge, @lilsimsie did. I also incorporated ideas from @simlovinggirl from her TS3 version of this challenge. Also inspiration from @sweetlysimss from their updated version of the TS4 version. Also sim wikia page for all information i need in terms of gameplay.

Tag: the normal nsb tag or "nsb plus" or "nsb +" or "@" me

Do you like the rainbow? Do you like the idea of playing with berry Sims but hate berry Sims? Do you want to mess around with aspects of the game you’ve never used before? Boy, do I have the challenge for you!

Rules:

You can follow the orignal rules of the NSB but I'm not requiring it for this.

You can keep the color scheme for each generation or just stick to the objectives of each generation. It is up to you as the player

2-3 traits are required but you don't have to have all of them for the heir if you don't want to.

Have fun!

If you wish to keep track of the generation goals/your progress, @rcpunzel created this spreadsheet for the challenge

🔬 Generation 1: Mint

What a mischievous scientist you are! As a career-driven individual, you still try to hangout with your friends and family and want what’s best for them. But in your free time, you enjoy the misfortune you cause others and love the idea of luxury in your life. Minty fresh indeed.

Traits: Vegetarian, Ambitious, Friendly, Inappropriate, Green Thumb

Aspiration: Become a Creature-Robot Cross Breeder

Career: Science

Objectives:

Reach Level 9 of Science Career

Master the gardening, fishing, and science skills

Have 3 best friends that you hangout with once a week 

Make 3 enemies

Meet your match: Marry a sim with the inappropriate/mean-spirited trait whom you get into a fight with. 

Own a garden with excellent quality with rare fruit (life fruit, death flower, omni plant, etc)

Own expensive luxury items in your home

Spoil your children rotten (get them anything their wishes desire)

Complete the Gems & Metals collection

💋 Generation 2: Rose

You were spoiled rotten as a child and it made you into an irresponsible insatiable person who hungers for more. Whether it's in your career in politics or lovers you left in tears, you always get what you want and leave the mess for someone else to clean up. Even if one mess ended up with your beloved child.

Traits: Flirty, Workaholic, Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer,

Lifetime Wish: Master Romancer

Career: Politician

Objectives:

Only have one child that resulted from a one night stand 

Gain the “Casanova/Natasha” reputation (for 7+ relationships/romantic interests at one time) or gain the “Player” reputation (for 9+ relationships/romantic interests but none at the same time)

Reach level 10 of Politician career

Throw campaign parties

Master the Charisma skill

Break off an engagement

Get married as an elder

Be distant with your child, provide for them but never be there for them. 

Become publicly disgraced for something

Become best friends with your boss

Live in a big house with maids + butler

🔭 Generation 3: Yellow

Growing up, you never had a great relationship with your parent but you did gain your grandparent’s interest in science, specifically space. As a child, you spent the majority of time enjoying your own company while obsessing over black holes, planets, and traveling to the stars. You spent your whole life dreaming of space, now it’s time to make it a reality. No matter the cost.

Traits: Loner, Handy, Socially Awkward, Brave, Computer Whiz

Lifetime Wish: High Tech Collector

Career: Astronomer 

Objectives:

Your best and only friend is your Grandparent. No close relationships or friendships until they die.

Find a star and name it

Master Logic and Advanced Technology skills

Own a Hoverboard, Dream Pod, Food Synthesizer, Holo Disc, and Jet Pack

Join the Astronomy career and go into the Space Explorer branch

Travel to Simulon V

Never marry because space is your one true love

Neglect your own children but still be friends with them. (no teaching of skills, not caring about hw, etc)

Get abducted by aliens and have an alien child

⚽ Generation 4: Grey

You always enjoyed playing sports and being in the great outdoors, contrary to what your family is interested in. You dream of becoming a professional athlete but you’ve always felt second place to your parent’s obsessions growing up and didn’t want the same for your children. You want to be there for your kiddos as much as possible. So while you’re hanging out with your family, you find music is something that brings you closer together.

Traits: Athletic, Virtuoso , Nurturing, Loves the Outdoors, Technophobe

Lifetime Wish: Superstar Athlete

Career: Professional Sports

Objectives:

Be in the Scouts as a child

Reach Level 10 of Sports career

Master the Athletic skill and a Musical Instrument

Teach all your children the xylophone

Be best friends with all your children

Have 3 failed relationships before finding the one. 

Do outdoor activities with your family (going to the park, beach, camping, etc)

Jam out with your family (once the kids get older) on your instrument of choice

Celebrate the seasons together:

Go to seasonal festivals, host seasonal parties, and decorate the home for family fun.

🎤 Generation 5: Plum

Everyone has always told you how talented you are. You’ve always been naturally good at everything to the point that nothing ever challenges you. This causes you to search for something that will. You tried different careers and learned some new skills, heck, you even tried being a Doctor. But one day at a karaoke bar, you sanged your heart out and realized that you love music and wish to become a singer. Is it too late to pursue your dream in your adulthood? Let’s find out!

Traits: Daredevil, Diva, Lucky, Commitment Issues, Natural Born Performer

Lifetime Wish: Jack of all Trades

Career: Multiple jobs, Medical, Singer 

Objectives:

Make straight A’s as a child and teen

Pick 3 different jobs before deciding on the Medical career

Quit the medical career as an adult to pursue your dream as a Singer

Master 3 skills, one of them has to be a musical instrument. 

Complete all of your midlife crisis wishes

Get divorced and then remarry the same sim

Move to 3 different worlds in your lifetime

Reach at least celebrity level 3 as a Singer

Perform at a big private venue

🖕 Generation 6: Orange

Growing up, homelife was competitive and hectic. You never had stability with your parent’s constant hedonistic whims affecting your life. You also didn’t reach academic success like your siblings who always outperformed you in everything, making you feel like a loser in your own family. But while your siblings were doing their thing, you were doing yours. Stealing. The joy of taking something without getting caught is like adrenaline in your veins and you want more. You also want to learn more about cooking as it calms you down. 

Traits: Loser, Natural Cook, Evil, Kleptomaniac, Hot-Headed

Lifetime Wish: Become a Master Thief

Career: Criminal (Thief branch)

Objectives:

Reach level 10 of the Criminal career in the Thief branch 

Master the Cooking skill

Steal from your neighbors and other townsfolk 

Marry a fellow criminal or someone with the Evil trait. 

Only have twins for children

Cook your favorite food + everybody in the household as well. 

Learn 28 recipes/Menu Maven challenge

Live in a fixer upper home/apartment in YA years

In Adult years, live in a house you can’t afford and purchase weird expensive items for aesthetic

Have at least 5 enemies

📖 Generation 7: Pink

You grew up watching your parents be irresponsible with their finances and let you have a little too much freedom in raising yourself. This causes you to become a very practical individual who believes in the steady 9-5 corporate hustle. Your twin on the other hand, dreams of becoming a big time Director in Bridgeport and you can’t help your envy as you also have a secret dream of becoming a best selling romance writer. As you see your twin succeed in their dream, maybe you too can try to pursue your dreams. Maybe you too can find the love you’ve always dreamed about.

Traits: Frugal, Unflirty, Bookworm, Hopeless Romantic, Neurotic 

Lifetime Wish: Professional Author

Career: Business, Self-employed Writer

Objectives:

Master the Writing skill

Live with your twin while they reach the Director branch of the Film career

Live in an urban city in your YA years, move to woodsy/rural town in your Adult years

Quit the business career  to pursue your dream of being a writer as an adult 

Own multiple bookshelves in your home

Write 5 Romance books in order to become a specialist in the genre 

Write 5 books outside of your genre

Find love as an adult through online dating 

Send love letters to your romantic interest

🕵️ Generation 8: Peach

As a child, you loved the stories your parents read to you about dashing knights, charming adventurers,and mysteries to be solved by the world’s greatest minds. You’ve always wanted to become a detective but you also have a thirst for adventure. Why not both?! You work primarily as a detective by solving cases and investigating clues but when you get that itch to explore, you catch a plane to your next destination and meet the locals who will tell you their stories.

Traits: Perspective, Good Sense of Humor, Genius, Adventurous, Photographer’s Eye

Lifetime Wish: Pervasive Private Eye

Career: Private Investigator

Objectives:

Reach level 10 of Detective profession

Move to a different world than the one you were born in

Visit explore different worlds (can be custom/WA destinations)

Master the Photography skill

Bring back souvenirs from your travels

Play chess in the local park and play against other townies for fun

Marry a local

Make all your friends through jokes & funny videos

Have a dog and be best friends with them

🎮 Generation 9: Green

So popular! You’ve always been the life of the party as you are an outgoing person who's always down to have a good time with friends. But no one would suspect that you’re really just a giant nerd that loves playing video games and painting in their spare time. That’s why it’s such a shock to some that you decided to major in Technology and become a Game Developer. You’re a hard worker who wants to develop amazing games but will party to the break of dawn with no regrets.

Traits: Party Animal, Social Butterfly, Excitable, Computer Whiz, Artistic

LTW: Reach Max Influence with All Social Groups

Career: Video Game Developer (Game Artist Branch)

Objectives:

Moonlight as a barista at bars for extra cash/side hustling 

Hacking is also another side hustle for extra cash (Computer Whiz trait exclusive)

Attend University as a Technology major

Unlock the Video Game Developer career by maxing out Nerd social group status

Master Mixology, Social Networking, and Painting skills

Accept every invitation to parties/outings with your friends

Own a comic book collection

Have a personal  blog

Have at least 5 good friends

Marry your best friend

🍼 Generation 10: Blue

Your dreams are a reality now that you have married the love of your life, had beautiful children, live in your dream home, and work your dream career. What could you possibly want more than this?! Actually… alot. You find yourself dissatisfied with your present circumstances and your eyes have begun to wander onto things you shouldn’t but want to have. As you begin to question and explore your new found cravings, a one time affair produces a bundle of joy and now everything you hold close to your heart is now in jeopardy of breaking apart at the seams.

Traits: Perfectionist, Good, Family-Oriented, Grumpy, Neat

Lifetime Wish: Surrounded by Family

Career: Teacher

Objectives:

Marry your high school sweetheart and stay with them until death do you part

Join the Education career

Host a big wedding

Move into your dream house

Adopt at least 1 child

Teach your children all of their skills

Toddlers - Teach, talk, poop, logic, music

Children - encourage their skills and help them with their homework

Teens - help them with homework and teach them to drive

Have a secret affair that results in a child

Confess to your spouse that you’ve cheated in order to rebuild your marriage

Purchase the “Clean Slate” lifetime reward to clean up your reputation

Gain the Eternally Faithful moodlet

Thank you for trying this challenge. Feedback is always welcomed!

[saetgvia]

spark | wriothesley

in which you and wriothesley find an unlikely spark.

CHAPTER ONE: A NOT SO MEET-CUTE

prince!wrio x fem!noble!reader, invented country au

✧ genre: fluff, angst...? maybe...? if you squint...?, arranged marriage trope

✧ tw: none, if you see any lmk <3

✧ word count: 1.32K

✧ playlist: spark - taeyeon, radio - lana del rey, deja vu - txt, darl+ing - seventeen, invu - taeyeon, agora hills - doja cat, killin' me good - jihyo, i like you (a happier song) - doja cat & post malone, fever - enhypen, eleven - ive, hype boy - newjeans, hard to love - rose, sour grapes - le sserafim, oh my god - adele, my head & my heart - ava max, nonsense - sabrina carpenter, the feels - twice

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i. a not so meet-cute

'what.' you stare in disbelief at your parents. 'there's no way. NO. WAY.' arranged marriages only happen in books. of course you'd heard of them in your country of azura, some distant cousin being married to some lord or other for alliances or whatever, but you'd always been free to do what you wanted, marry who you chose. your parents never put any restrictions on you, but this out of the blue is so- 'unexpected! what? i thought-' 'circumstances change.' your father replies shortly. 'i- you- you can't do this!' you cry, becoming more and more panicked. you wanted to fall in love, marry someone you chose! and now, you were going to be pawned off to someone you didn't even know. wait...

'can you at least tell me who i'm being given away to?' 'you're not being given away-' 'oh mom, it's fine. i know how this works. so, who is it?'

wriothesley. the prince of emeia. a name that struck fear into your very soul. not because he was a terrible ruler or a womaniser. he was, in fact, the complete opposite. you'd heard tales from all over the kingdom in the form of gossiping ladies giggling behind fans, sipping their tea and gushing to your mother. she, in turn, laughed daintily, and turned to you with a pointed look. how could she even know? his parents kept him hidden away from the world, their precious son too perfect for mere commoners. no, you were afraid because you didn't know him. because he seemed too good to be true. and most of all, because he was about to become your life. you should have seen this coming.

'i won't go.'

your father's eyes narrow, and you can see his neatly trimmed beard bristling in anger. you've never seen him like this before, and over something as silly as an arranged marriage? your mother puts a placating arm on his bicep, and he shoots her a look, both of them communicating through their gaze. finally, he exhales, evidently trying to calm himself, and speaks.

'we... we're in debt. remember that deal with ceria? the cherry liqueur? they've been selling it for exorbitant prices without giving us any of the profits, and we've been depending on that to get us out of last winter's snowstorms. emeia noticed us struggling and have so kindly offered to refill our coffers in exchange for your hand.' there's a hint of annoyance in his tone, and you begin to understand just how much this is weighing on him. but still, how can you throw your life away like that?

'i'll think about it.'

⭑⭑⭑

'but i don't WANT to!' you shriek into your pillow, kicking your feet in true spoiled girl fashion. your maid, or rather, your friend, giselle, winces, and tries to comfort you.

'hey, maybe it won't be so bad! everyone says he's a sweetheart!'

'but everyone ISN'T BEING MARRIED OFF TO HIM!'

'think about your parents, hon! you can always divorce him later, run away, fake your own death-'

she breaks off at your deadpan gaze, and starts to giggle, until you start to giggle, and you're both in your bed cackling uncontrollably. you wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, and look at giselle over the rumpled sheets, her eyes twinkling, and you wish there were more people like her in the world. sitting up, you clasp her hands between yours, and trace the lines on her weathered palm. you exhale, and make up your mind. you have to marry wriothesley.

'giselle... i'll marry wriothesley. but only if you come with me.'

⭑⭑⭑

'woah woah woAH-' you cry as you stumble. your beautiful, floor-length cherry-red dress, so stunning to look at when you were standing in one place, was nothing but a nuisance when you were walking. for comfort, you'd opted for soft velvet flats instead of the heels sent for you; you could see the flaws in this decision now. but instead of breaking your nose, you're met with shoes. shiny leather shoes, buckled with silver, and a pair of strong - warm - arms gripping your own. slowly raising your head, your eyes land on a beautiful face. chiseled jawline, chiseled nose, chiseled forehead, somehow his neck is also chiseled. but his lips, so plump and pink and soft, and his eyes, like chips of blue ice, hold a twinkle of mirth.

'woah there, careful. wouldn't want you to get hurt.'

his voice is honey, smooth and sweet, and it washes over your ears. you can't stop staring, enthralled by his gaze.

'cat got your tongue?'

you snap out of your daze, realising you're still half on the mysterious stranger, and stumble backwards. you brush your hands over your dress, the gold embroidery rough under your fingers.

'sorry. i uh- i have to go.'

you picked up your skirts and hurried back towards the throne room. you didn't think you could get so lost trying to go to the bathroom! stopping before a mirror adorning the wall, you take a quick look at your appearance. the crimson dress fit your figure wonderfully, golden embroidery curling up the sides and front of your dress, forming a pattern of flames that ended just below your neckline. your hair, so lustrous and thick, had managed to escape its tight bindings, so you gasp heavily as you catch your breath and tie your hair up at the same time, the ribbon cherry-red to match your dress. adjusting yourself one final time, you nod to the guards outside to open the door for you, and walk into the throne room.

you're once again taken by surprise at the grandness of it all. absolutely everything inside is scarlet, a stark contrast to the cool blue drapes of azura. you'd always found it funny how blue was your dukedom's colour and yet your primary export was cherries, something so very opposite. the floor, carpeted in lush red and cream formed a pathway up to the raised thrones, all three of them cushioned by velvet and adorned with gold scrollwork and filigree. behind the thrones and all around, rich tapestries decorate the walls, vermilion depictions of the kingdom's greatest victories. you weren't sure if they were there to celebrate or intimidate. maybe both. a big, booming laugh reaches your ears, and your gaze is drawn to the antechamber towards the back of the room. ah, so that's where they've gone to. you scurry towards the chamber, nodding with as much regal-ness as you could muster towards the servants who caught your eye and sank into a deep curtsy or bow. straightening your dress, again, out of habit, you step into the room.

your parents are laughing, your father releasing his great guffaw and your mother tittering behind her gloved hand. the king of emeia, a warm, welcoming person with greying ebony hair and soft blue eyes was telling some kind of story, while his wife, the queen, sat, watching the scene with adoration and satisfaction. the queen noticed you first, her brown eyes crinkling into a sweet smile as she noticed you.

'oh there you are! we were wondering where you'd gone.'

'sorry... i got a little lost.' you take your seat on another velvet sofa, picking up your cup of tea. the servants appeared to have brought more plates of food in, the table once again covered in delicate china piled high with macarons and pastries and little sandwiches cut into perfect triangles. you pick up one of the treats, a golden swirl of pastry with colourful fruit peeking out, and bite into it. it's heavenly, deliciously flaky and sweet on your tongue. you pick it up and munch happily on it again.

'ah, here he is. wrio! here is the girl we wish for you to marry.'

you choke. because when you look up, you see the same chiseled features, the same lips, the same eyes and the same smile.

'THAT'S wriothesley?'

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from saetgvia: i have never started writing a fic so fast oh my god??? very excited for this fic and i hope you are too <3 stay tuned will have part 2 coming out soon!

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please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my spark taglist and overall is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added! just specify which one.

© saetgvia 2024. do not copy or repost.

[everythingelseisextra]

No Harm

Part Twenty: Scar Tissue

Part Nineteen of Twenty-One Description: I don't know how to describe it without spoiling it. Just trust me and read it (if you can handle the trigger warnings. Don't push yourself if you don't want to) Warnings: references to rape, heavy implications of sexual assault, copious blood, violence, possibly bad writing (we'll see what ya'll think), references to drugging/drug use, PTSD, unedited, no children reference Word Count: 6234 Tag List:

@theshelbyslimited  @ttaechi  @weaponizedvirtue  @majesticcmey  @optimisticsandwichgladiator  @zablife  @princesssterek  @mm0thie  @callsignvenus @ay0nha  @mgdixon  @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel  @ce1iat  @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul @notalxx @chaengist @cookiez56-blog @skxawngs @h0neylemon

But come here, fear. 

I am alive and you are so afraid of dying.

Joy Harjo- I Give You Back

You are an animal. 

Terrified, backed into a corner, tearing out your own hair, hissing and spitting and trembling. There’s blood dripping from broken skin, bruised, and handprints on your wrists, your neck, your hips.There’s a throbbing burn branded onto your neck, which will be used to identify you, if you were to escape again. There are no clear thoughts in your mind, just the primal terror of reliving a twisted childhood, of your body abused and used for the pleasure of men who laugh when you scream. Aching pain shoots through you with every breath, left over from the fight, from the battle you lost, from the autonomy you had no choice but to let them steal. It took four of them to hold you down.

The date-rape drug they administered slowly wears off, and you know that, soon, there will be a man. Or two, or three, that’ll enter this room where you sit with your legs curled up to your chest and your back pressed against the joint of two walls, and take you as they want. You know this. You know that most ‘clients’ want the women conscious, but not enough to fight. You know that, once it’s over, they’ll send you back into that drowsy, paralyzed state, or, worse, get you hopped up on cocaine or some other upper, so that you rely on them, so that you can’t leave. 

You don’t think about why you did this. You don’t think about the man you love, that you saved, you don’t think about the boy and the maid, the innocents. You don’t think about how they could’ve fought for you, would’ve fought for you to the grave, until everything around them was burnt to the ground, just to keep you safe. You don’t think about how, either way, there would’ve been a sacrifice. Your mind is static that you cannot hear through, and you are small, so small, insignificant compared to the great, monstrous fear that steals you from your body and sits you on your own shoulder to watch the violence take place. Once again, your skin grows far too thick for your soul, your consciousness, and all the pain echoes out towards emptiness, not towards you.

You would like to be able to make something beautiful out of this, to twist your suffering into something bright and bold and brilliant, but you can’t. Some things are just too dark to reflect brilliance. Some things absorb the light you try to bring to them. 

There’s no light in this room. You blink blankly through the darkened space, the bed next to you cleansed from its last bloody usage. From beneath the closed bathroom door, some light shines, flickering from a candle inside, lit to fend off the scent of sweat and sex and terror. False sweetness wafts out to you, your curled body still shaking. Your senses don’t seem to be working, shut down by the pure overwhelm, your eyes wide but unseeing. But, still, every little noise, every footstep in the hallway, every creak of the wooden floors, every murmur of voices through the thin walls sets you on fire, your whole body tensing, so scared it’s painful. 

You don’t believe in God, but you pray anyway. Some part of you, beyond the static, moves your lips in soundless begging. You want to die before it happens again. You want the pain to stop, and you want to feel clean again, to feel whole and free, like you did before. Before this. 

Your eyes flick to the bathroom door, the light shimmering at the crack on the bottom. Chills slide down your back and you shiver as the faint sound of someone trying keys in the lock on your door reaches you. You only have a moment. 

You stand on trembling legs and stride awkwardly over to the bathroom, your body flaring in too many places for you to truly feel all of them. Inside, sitting serenely on the vanity table across from the standing tub, the candle burns inside a glass casing. You blink at it, a twisting of emotions squeezing your guts in your abdomen. It feels like mercy. 

You lift the candle and, quickly, as the door opens behind you, crack the glass on the tub. A shard falls into it, and you reach down wildly to grab it and hold it up. Thick, sharp. You glance down at the candle, and, for good measure, throw it at the wall behind you, hoping, praying, that the fire catches. That the other women hidden in this hotel are given the chance to run free, perhaps from one tragedy to another, perhaps not even. Perhaps the only thing you’ll be given them is a way out of their hell, a slow, melting death, or a look at the night sky before being brought back into captivity. 

Then, slowly, you creep out of the bathroom, the blade of glass held in one hand, the edges cutting into your palm. There, standing in the darkness, silhouetted by the light of the bathroom, is a large, looming man, his eyes on you. He steps back, looking to the door, and opens his mouth, about to sound the alarm. In that moment, something in you switches. You change from prey to predator, from victim to inflictor, from slave to slaver. With two quick steps, you clear the distance between you and lunge at him, one fluid movement, and send the shard of glass into the one target you can fully see; his eye. He howls as you shove it into the socket, trying to shatter it inside of his eye. Hands grab at you and you find yourself being thrown bodily to the ground. You look up to see him lumbering around, one hand tearing at the glass in his eye, the other reaching out to support himself on one of the walls. 

You skitter backwards, dragging your exhausted body across the ground like a woman possessed like the old days, and retreat once more into the bathroom. There, a fire blooms, bright and undying, licking up the corner of the room and eating at the wooden walls. You reach into the bathtub and grab as many shards of glass as you can, holding them to your chest like you would a baby, cradling them as they cut into your skin. Now armed, you stand, look out into the room where light now floods from the open front door. More men. 

You tear out of the bathroom, a wild thing bewitched by the need to survive and self-defend, and take one of the shards of glass in your dominant hand, wielding it like you’ve known your whole life how to kill. Which, in a way, you have. 

There are two men in the room. The first comes at you, his hand going to a holster on his hip, and you react without thinking. You throw your entire body weight on him, pushing him to the ground with a running start, and, suddenly, you’re hacking at his face with the glass. It breaks into pieces in your hand, but you don’t feel the pain, don’t feel the slivers sliding deeper into your skin. 

The second man grabs your shoulders and pulls you back, shouting something you don’t understand, and, suddenly, you’re underneath him, his fist drawn back. He must’ve missed the glass held to your chest, for you grab one and stab up blindly. His fist comes down on your face regardless and your nose cracks; he hits hard and fast. You scream, a feral sound, and, as he draws his fist back a second time, you stab again, and this time, you meet your mark.

He falters, and you take the opportunity to slip out from underneath him and start for the door, only to slow to a stop at the sight of the first man with the ruined face, twitching with a pool of blood around him on the ground. The fire crackles behind you, beginning to spread outwards, and you make your decision. Scampering over to him, you kneel down and rummage through his clothes, looking, seeking, trying to find it. Your hand lands on cold metal and you yank. 

You stare down at it, then look up as the second man stumbles towards you. A shard of glass sticks out of his abdomen, blood dripping around it, his white dress shirt dyed, and, before you think about it, before you consider the consequences, you smile, point, and pull the trigger. 

He drops, and so do you, unused to the recoil. You rise quickly, your chest roaring with pain, and stumble to the doorway. Your nose throbs and blood cascades down your front, but you wipe at it with the back of your hand and steady on. The fire follows you, loyal and tame for now, but soon to become a monster, a cruel, mindless killer. 

Shouts fill the hallway; they heard your gunshot. Hoping against hope that you have enough ammo to fight your way through, you start down the hallway, choosing to go left at the chance that, maybe, that’ll lead to an entrance. And hoping that you don’t find yourself in a deadend. 

You breathe slowly, trying to calm your pounding heart. You’re the one with the gun. You fought your way out of your cage and are out, wild once more, prepared to fight again and again to keep your freedom. Or, if not, if you find yourself in a corner once again, you’re the one with the gun. You can take yourself out, if that’s what it takes, if that’s what you must do to keep yourself out of entrapment. 

Up ahead, a group of men wander out of an opening to your left, and your heart sinks. Too many of them. Far too many of them for you to take down on your own. Even if they’re not affiliated with the slavers, you stand out, blood dripping down your body, glass shards stuck out of your hand, arm, and bits of your chest. You put your head down and fall still, closing your eyes for a moment, then, slowly, you look up. 

What does one do, then, when facing a goliath? What do you do when you’re scared senseless, pushed far beyond what any person should have to endure? What do you do when you know you can’t win, when you know it’s a losing battle, when you know the other side won’t listen to your screams?

What has humanity always done, when we face the impossible? When we looked to the room and wished to land in the stars. When Gods clashed and people sobbed, when David faced his opponent with next to nothing to defend himself with? When wars ravaged the world and dreamers died and the sky met the sea in a flare of raging fire?

What do we do when the surrender is obvious, but hope still lives?

We fight. 

Tooth and nail, we fight. Until the end, when there’s nothing left to fight for, we clash and refuse to go quiet into that good night. We rage against the will of fate and show it that the human heart endures more than anything anyone could possibly imagine. We scream into the face of God and tell them to try us one more time, try again, see what happens. 

We fight. 

And so will you. 

You let out a breath, and you savor it, and for a moment, you belong to yourself again. For a moment, you’re so wrapped up in ferocity and hope and despair that you claim your body back. And you will not let it die here, and you will not let it be taken back. 

Your younger self stands in the fire behind you, watching as you walk slowly towards this group of men, blinking up at you with terrified eyes as you stand and protect her, as you fight for the freedom she never got to have, as you give back all the terror and confusion and awful, horrific pain that you felt growing up. Your younger self will watch as, one way or another, you find deliverance. 

You hold the gun up, aim, and prepare to pull the trigger as the first man sees you. His eyes widen and his lips move and they fall still, staring back at you in silence. Some of their gazes drop to the ground. Some of them step back. And others simply watch you, quiet and soft, with simple looks of respect on their faces. 

You pause, your finger resting on the trigger. The first man slowly shakes his head, then, glancing at the others, slowly leans down and places his weapon on the ground in front of him. A surrender. The others follow suit, almost seeming to bow to you as they place their guns on the floor. The first one looks over to you once more, chest rising and falling slowly, as if in a sigh or meditation. 

You won’t drop your weapon. You won’t give up the only thing you have to protect yourself. You won’t give away your liberty so easily. What does it say about the world you live in that the only way to earn your autonomy is to carry a gun? What does it say about you that you have to fight so viciously to keep yourself safe? Were you simply chosen to be this rabid dog, this creature with claws and teeth, this monster? Or is this what it means to be alive?

But you lower it, just slightly, to try to meet his eyes. A tremble shoots through you, then another, and suddenly you’re shuddering, the adrenaline you had slowly running out. Your injured body wants badly to give out, to crumple to the ground and surrender. But you can’t. You sway on your feet, your shaking body unstable, and catch yourself. Your head hangs again, but you stare up through your hair to face them. 

“We’re friends,” the first man says, stepping towards you. 

You shake your head and stumble back towards the fire, lifting the gun again. Crackling heat flickers on your back, and warms the aching muscles that whine relentlessly.

“We’re sent by Tommy. By Alfie.” He speaks to you softly, in the same voice you use to soothe a spooked horse. “We’re friends. We need you to come with us. You’ve made our job a whole lot easier.” 

You find yourself stepping back again, and the heat grows harsher, almost painful on your bones. It brings light to the shards of glass stuck in your body, tiny fires shining in them, and you think that, if you were to die, burning would be suitable. Your whole life, you think, you’ve been burning one way or another. One way or another, you’ve been alight. 

“Please.” He puts his hands up, palms facing you, trying to show himself to be weaponless, free of anything that could harm you. “Let us help you.”

Again, you shake your head. You’ve seen how these men coerce women into their trust. You’ve seen the soft words and casual conversation, the charm and the chivalry, the humor. You’ve seen others get drawn into this underground hell you’ve known for too long. And you’ve seen how easy it is for them to seem so kind, so easy-going, so helpful. 

You will not be manipulated.

He glances back at the other men, who watch him warily, then he raises a hand and sends them off with a swift gesture. They turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone. 

You, surrounded by fire, and him, at the end of the wooden hallway. Darkness and light. You can’t let him win, even if it means being consumed. 

“I— I don’t want to use force, but I will.” He steps towards you again. 

Your jaw tightens and you raise your gun again, staring over it at him, ready to pull the trigger at any sign of him moving closer. It’s a broken kind of fear you feel, that forces you to hurt others. Kill or be killed. 

“Please. Please. I know— They told me that you like horses, right?” 

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue, second-guessing every word he speaks. 

“Right, well, Tommy had them taken care of yesterday, he said Iris is improving, I— I don’t know, please. Please come with me.” 

At the name of the horse, you lower your gun. They look into the women they take, yes, but they would have no way of finding out the gray horse’s name unless it came straight from you or Tommy. No one else was there to witness his naming, no one else was there to know he was given to you in such a way. 

“Yes. Yes. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. We won’t hurt you. Just— we’ll get you out of here. We’ll do our jobs and then we can all go home, right? We can all go home.” He steps towards you once again. “Just put the gun down. You don’t need it. You won’t need it.”

You shake your head, your shaking hand tightening on the grip of the gun. There’s a heart beating in your throat and a shuddering sensation running through your muscles, like you’re about to collapse. 

“Okay. Okay, you can keep the gun, just— let’s go, okay? Let’s just go.”

The fire surrounds you. You step forward, shying away from the extreme heat, and before you give yourself full permission, you’re moving towards him. You hold the gun up, the barrel pointing at his chest, an extra precaution to soothe your staticky mind. He nods and backs away, still facing you, then, after a moment, he turns and starts down the hallway. 

It’s a winding, maze-like building. You were brought in fighting, squirming and biting and scratching, doing anything you could think of to keep them off of you, out of you. You don’t remember the way out. For all you know, he could be leading you somewhere where he can keep you trapped, keep you compliant. He could be leading you to an ambush, where they’ll take you across the country and hide you somewhere you’ll never be found. 

Instead, you find yourself passing wooden doors, and seating areas, and even a phone sitting on a small table, and then, finally you end in the lobby. There’s people pushing to get out the door, trying to escape the fire you started, their shouts and exclamations filling the small room. The man in front of you pauses, then steps sideways, out of your way, to allow you a view of the full room. You expect to see the group of men who you’d seen before, but, instead, you find cold blue eyes locked onto you. In front of the chaos of people shoving out the door, dead still despite the racket and riot, he stands and watches you, expressionless, as if painted, frozen in a moment. And you stare back, trembling, still a creature of panic and violence. The room around you seems to fall silent, the rush of people flooding out slows. Your pain throbs. Your vision blurs. You shake. Red blood drips from your wounds and stains you from the lives you’d taken in a feral, terrified mania. And there isn’t a drop on him, no sign of a fight on his end, just a pristine blue three-piece suit. 

A lump forms in your throat. You take a deep, shaking breath and watch fearfully as he approaches you, his steps slow, his eyes on you, trying to read the expression on your battered and blood-covered face. 

Before he reaches you, there’s a gunshot, and all the motion and sound comes avalanching back onto you. Tommy stumbles, falling momentarily to one knee before staggering back to his feet. He turns to face the men who stand at the other entrance to the lobby, one of which holds the gun that shot the bullet that ripped through his shoulder, for the second time in two days.

Now there’s blood on him, soaking the fabric into a deep, liquid purple. Your hand grips the gun in your hand and there’s a burning sensation in your veins, in your muscles, in your mind, propelling you to step forward and fight for him, but the moment is gone, and the man with the gun is speaking. 

“Put your hands above your head, and we’ll talk.” He gestures with his gun, moving it upward in a fashion that doesn’t beg for questions. 

Tommy does as he says, slowly moving his hands upwards. “There are men who have orders to return here if—”

“Then we better make this quick.” He smiles a toothy grin. “We know where you live, Mr. Shelby. There are men positioned at your property, ready to trigger an explosion that’ll wipe your home off the map. You leave here, call off your men, and we’ll do the same. No one will need to know what happened here. Or…” he tilts his head. “Or we let you take that monster of a woman, and you get halfway home before you find yourself dead in hell, where you belong.” 

Tommy’s hand is pressed down on his injured shoulder, trying to stem the blood that gushes wetly. “That’s quite the plan you have.” 

His words come unbothered, unworried. Casual, almost. 

“You have a choice. Make it now.” 

Tommy nods and opens his mouth to speak, but, as he does so, footsteps behind you steal your attention. You whip around and find two women, dressed as staff of the hotel. Your eyes flick over them, and your heart skips a beat. There’s bruises hidden beneath their sleeves, a pallid, drawn look to their faces. Eyes wide and pupils blown large, it’s clear they’re not fully aware of their situation, perhaps new, perhaps too drugged to be lucid. 

You speak for the first time since you were taken. “Go. Go now. They’re distracted.”

They stare at you blankly, then look at each other. One of them, a young, pixie-ish woman, nods and speaks in a language you don’t understand. The other nods back, and the younger one looks to you again.. 

“You should come with us,” she says, voice faint and accented. “Come. While you can.”

You shake your head, looking back at Tommy, who wavers where he stands, face paler than usual. Losing too much blood. “I can’t. You go. I’ll be okay.”

“For a man?” She scoffs. “You’re as stupid as we were.”

“No,” you murmur. “You were never stupid.”

After a moment of silence, they pass by you, heads ducked, heading for the door. Your attention turns back to Tommy, and you realize with horror that he’s been stalling, waiting for something that might never happen, for the time to come for the men to return. 

He hasn’t learned the way you have that no one, no one, is ever coming to save you. You have to do it yourself. 

And, worse still, you see him fall to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer, too dizzy from pain and blood loss. Without thinking, you walk slowly, languidly, and step in front of his knelt form, a shield between him and the men. You look up at them, find their eyes on you, and smile faintly. The gun is warm in your hand. 

There’s laughter from a few of them, while others move towards the door, bored with the interaction. Disorganized, you think wearily. There’s probably no one at Arrow House. There’s probably no danger for Charlie or Frances. But you can’t bet on probably. 

So, instead, you make a gamble of your own. “Liszt is coming.” 

The quiet laughter goes silent. You hold your gun up, consider it, then, slowly, you hold it to your own head. The barrel presses into your hair and skin, warm. Beneath you, you hear Tommy let out a short breath. 

“Liszt is coming. He and Alfie are old enemies, and he’s brought him back to Birmingham.” You’re lying as quickly and smoothly as you can, making things up on the fly, trying to base every phrase in some form of truth. “I don’t think he’d like to find his regained prized possession dead when he gets here, now, would he?”

“You’re holding yourself hostage.” The man laughs. “And you think we’ll believe you?” 

“I might be lying.” You smile and tilt your head, moving the gun with you. You must be an image, blood-stained and bruised, dressed in ripped clothing, holding a gun to your own head.. “Then again, I might not be.” 

He hesitates, his eyes flicking from you to Tommy behind you and back to you again. He shakes his head, then lifts his gun, pointing it directly at you. “I’ll kill you myself, then. I’ll fucking kill you myself. What’ll Liszt do? What’ll he—”

“He’ll kill you.” Your blood goes cold and you widen your stance, begging the universe that you’ll get your message across. “He’ll kill all of you. There’s no law for him.”

“Not if I kill him.” he gestures at Tommy. “If I kill him, I’ll be rewarded.”

You shake your head and move the gun off of your head, looking down at it for a moment, then aim it at the man. “I guess we’re at an impasse, then.”

Tommy crumples behind you and your lip twitches into a tiny smile before you can hide it. You watch the man’s finger on the trigger, watch it shift, watch the faint gesture of a tensing muscle preparing to shoot. 

And the crack of a bullet flying fills the air and the world goes black. 

—

No one is really sure how both you and Tommy made it out alive that day. You know two things: that the first bullet sent came from the ground between your legs, shot to kill the man in front of you, and that, when the rest of them came upon you, the last thing you saw was the two women from before rushing towards them to hold them off. 

You’re lying in a hospital bed, about to be discharged. Light filters in through the windows, much brighter and cleaner than Tommy’s hospital when you were first getting to know each other. Strange, how he seems to care so much more about you than he does himself. There are other beds around you, but the curtains block your view of them. Some of your wounds, acquired through violent rape, were too private for your curtains to be open at all. Everywhere you look, there is white. 

The brand on your neck has been bandaged and cleaned, the glass has been removed from your skin, and your broken nose has been set. You’ve refused any painkillers, and you’ve been unable to move for the ache of it, the sharp shots of feverish pain through your muscles and skin too intense. And the bullet that dug deep into the area just underneath your collarbone has been removed. Any further down and you’d be dead. 

Every time a man enters your curtained space, you begin to shake. You remain calm and collected, your heart shuddering violently in your chest and your breath stolen by fear, but you don’t show it. You smile and speak as though nothing has happened, and the only thing that gives you away is the innate show of terror. Trembling, shaking, no matter how hard you try to still your aching bones. So, they send women. Nurses, mostly, soft spoken and smiling. They know what you’ve been through. Everyone who looks at you now will know, given the mark on your neck, the soon-to-be welts of painful burns branding you a victim. 

A blond nurse who’s seen to you several times in the last day returns, sending you a small smile and a quiet greeting. She checks your vitals one final time, then helps you stand. You clutch at her hand to steady yourself, trying to get used to the pain that burns through your thighs, your abdomen, the bandaged wounds on your arms and neck and hands. You’re a mess. 

She leads you down the hallway, down the stairs, and out into an unwelcoming world. This is the cleanest area he could’ve found to hospitalize you at, the best possible doctors serve here, and yet, you find your teeth chattering despite the warmer weather. You can’t fend off the shock of the sunlight, the innate fear of seeing people walking the streets, the overwhelm of senses as cars drive past. And, most importantly, you can’t stop the pure panic at the idea of seeing him again. 

You’ve refused to let him visit you since the night before, when you returned to consciousness. The idea of being alone with a man, even one you trust, scares you more than you care to admit. There’s this feeling of being the only prey in a world of predators, like you’re a target to everyone you see, like the earth is covered in patterns of blood that only you can see. You’re terrified. Truly, you’re terrified. 

And, thus, the shaking starts again as you’re led to the Bentley, sitting quietly in front of the hospital. And there he is. He gets out of the drivers seat and walks over, and you step back unconsciously, trying to create space between you, to get out of arm’s reach. His eyes flick to you, emotionless, and he opens the passenger side door. You slip inside, the hair on the back of your neck raising, chills running down your spine. 

He gets in, and suddenly, the world feels far, far too small. You’re trapped in a small space with someone who could easily overpower you. You close your eyes and let in a breath that sounds a little more like a gasp as the car pulls away from the hospital. You try to stop the shaking, try to subdue yourself, wishing that you could be sedated somehow, wishing that you could be calm. You know him. Better than you know anyone. He would never hurt you. 

You open your eyes, and you stare straight out of the windshield, refusing to look at him. Your blood is running cold, the feeling of light-headedness coming back to you as you struggle to breathe. In your line of sight, you see him, see his eyes flicking to you and back to the road, and then to you again. You see his eyes fall to your hands, bandaged and pulling on each other in your lap. You see him track the pattern of your shivering, the ebb and flow of motion that forces you to be in constant unease. You feel guilty. This is not his fault, this terror, and you know he feels like it is. You know he thinks you’re afraid of him specifically, not the rest of the world, not the unknown, not the pressing walls of the car. 

You drive in silence for some time, moving at a slow, steady speed. He makes no quick movements, smokes no cigarettes, shows no sign of emotion but for the slight tenseness of his jaw. The hand nearest to you is on the wheel, the one on the other side resting on the seat next to his thigh. You reach the countryside. The sun hovers high above the low grass, bringing it from green to slight brown, and you feel the summer coming, the death of the greenery around you for the sake of warmth. 

Your eyes are closed when the car falls to a stop. Your blood freezes over, and you don’t open your eyes. You haven’t driven far enough to have reached Arrow House. This, you think, this is when your fear is confirmed. No, it can’t be, it’s Tommy, the only person you’ve allowed to touch you in literal years. But, still, you fear the consequences of your vulnerability, you fear how easily he could take advantage. He would never. But he might. He would never. But he could. And you could do nothing about it. 

“Let’s walk.” He slips out of the car, walks around to open your door. “Come on.”

You stare at him, your shaking intensifying with the proximity. “What?”

“Let’s walk,” he says again. 

“Okay.” 

His tone tells you nothing, no hint of his intentions. You awkwardly lower yourself from the car, wavering as your feet touch the ground. On instinct, it seems, he reaches out to steady you. You flinch away, almost violently, and his jaw tightens. Without another word, he turns and walks off. You take a moment to calm yourself, then follow, each step aching where you were torn and bruised and battered. 

“Tommy,” you croak out. “Tommy, please.” 

He slows to allow you to catch up, but you keep a distance between you regardless, too worried to close the gap. He watches you expectantly, his eyes flicking over your face, reading you like an open book. Your heart is on your sleeve; he can see everything, all the fear you feel, the panic and the guilt. And, still, you shake. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, wavering in place, trying to hold yourself together. “I’m sorry. I’m— I don’t know— I don’t know what’s happening.”

He steps towards you, his mouth opening slightly, one hand lifting, then falling by his side. You’re so fragile, you think. You’re so damn fragile that he’s scared to break you, scared to touch you. As he should be. You really are close to an edge that you don’t understand how to back away from. 

You take a deep, shaking breath, your body stilling for a second, maybe two, before trembling again. “Please, don’t— don’t leave me. Don’t walk away. I’m— It’s just so fresh, Tom, I don’t know how else to be. I’m trying to calm down and I can’t, I’m just so scared and I can’t control it. I can’t control it. And it’s not your fault, it’s not, and I can’t even look at you—” 

You break off in a small, hiccuping sob, then shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the emotion. You wrap your arms around yourself, begging the world or whatever God will listen to help you, to make him understand. 

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking. “You remember when I called you. When I needed help.”

It’s a statement, not a question, but you nod anyway. 

“I needed a reason. Something to hold onto. Some kind of fucking hope in a hopeless world. And then you came into my life.” His voice softens. “I don’t know how to help you, my love, but I promise you I will try. In any way I can, I will be there. It is my fault, some of it. So, no matter how you change, no matter how fearful you become, I will stay by your side. I will do you no harm. Remember?”

You nod again, lip trembling with the rest of you, holding back tears. 

“Tragedy seems to love you as much as I do, eh?” There’s a faint smile on his lips, a sad one, almost as shaky as yours is. 

Finally, you manage to look at him, meeting his eyes. They’re blue and cold but inside, deep inside, there’s something of a fire, of a star, consuming itself to burn. For the first time, you understand, that star burns for you. That light is there because you are, and as long as you’re with him, you’ll get to see the beauty of it. 

You like that he looks at you like no one else could ever compare. It almost stills your trembling, at least for a moment, and you sigh, relieved. 

Slowly, tentatively, like a newly gentled horse approaching a human for the first time, you walk towards him. Your gaze is on the ground, your heart in your throat. You’re battered and broken and deeply, deeply hurt. There are scars in places you didn’t know you had, buried deep in the halls of your mind, but somewhere in there, there’s a matching ember, a matching star to his. 

Hope, you think. That’s what it is. That’s what you give to each other. You are two people who inspire each other to keep living, to keep moving on, and that’s the closest definition you can think of to love. 

You reach him. His eyes flick over your nose, now bumpy and held in place by a brace, and the bandage on your neck, then find their way back to your eyes. Then he nods, and starts to walk again, slowly this time, allowing you to keep pace. You stay with him, eyes on the horizon, and you feel yourself leaning instinctually towards him, despite the shaking of your body, despite the lack of breath in your lungs. 

“Can I hold your hand?” The question comes under his breath, barely spoken. 

You reach out and take his hand, yours battered and bandaged and painful, his callused and scarred. And you walk towards the blue horizon, and slowly, your shaking starts to still. 

Always. Always, you’ll walk together like this. 

Hand in unlovable hand. 

[writegoblin]

I have been severely craving my boy. No no, not Michael. Boseph uwu

Look at him. Unf.

Anyways.

Bo Sinclair Headcanons!

SFW

- You ended up in Ambrose because your car alignment decided it had enough of these off road shenanigans.

- Your reasons for being out that way, for story purposes, are running from your old life. All your old family and friends are shitty so you an conveniently disappear bc smthn smthn deus ex machina

- HOW you find out about your car alignment is another story. Let's just say, tumbling in a car is much more painful than it looks. What's worse is landing in a roadkill pit. Yeah boy. You know what time it is B)

- Lester almost shit himself when you came from over the highway. He thought you were dead and was going to call Vincent when you punched out the front seat. That's hot. Alright stranger, you're coming with me!

- He tries to clean you up and get your name. Takes you back to his place because he doesn't want to catch the twins off guard. But the day you spend there is lovely.

- You get the Ambrose and immediately shits off. Long story short, you become something of a live in maid. They can't kill you because it would be a lot of hassle on their end (another deus ex. You're related to a cop or something idk), and they COULD turn this situation around. Get use out of you.

- Bo likes how witty you are. You don't like to be bossed around which is clearly why you ran away from home (what are you, 10?)

- At first he's very callous to you and makes no effort to understand you. As far as he's concerned, you're another spoiled out of towner, just impeding on he and his brother's strange get rich scheme (more on that later. I'll explain in end notes.)

- What's worse is you're argumentative. Whenever he asks you to do something (read: yells at you), you always gotta talk back. You say funny stuff sometimes but it's annoying mostly. Vincent enjoys it much more than he does.

- You make nice with Vinny first. When you aren't forced to do chores, he lets you help him with the wax. Bo sees this and eventually realizes that while you are certainly mouthy, you are human with like hobbies and shit.

- He's a chef he's a gourmand

- He cooks for he and Vincent because Vincent, due to some brain damage, has a weird palette. So anything he makes either has way too much seasoning, or it tastes like cardboard. Bo on the other hand, grew up running around the streets of Baton Rogue with his friends after school. He KNOWS how to cook good.

- He's also good at first aid. The actual surgery and medical stuff is Vincent's wheelhouse but once you broke your arm trying to fix some shutters he told you to fix. He felt bad so he very gingerly fixed your arm. It healed really nicely but you'll never forget the way those blue eyes of his were so warm when he looked at you, touching the bend in your forearm and his voice, gentle as the day you first met went, "does it hurt?"

- Yeah but you looking at me like that bout to get me pregnant hurts worse sir

- As a boyfriend he's only jealous/protective around tourists. But as a dude in a town with a population of technically 3.5 if you count Lester's visits, he gets it. He does not mind his twin ogling you. He does not mind sharing EVENTUALLY. At first, he's very apprehensive.

- Bo's love language is physical touch. Even nonsexual touch is nice. He likes laying his head in your lap while yall watch TV and you rake your nails through his scalp gently.

- When he gets night terrors he likes to hold onto you in the dark like hope. He puts his face in your chest and he's almost like a little kid for a second. You have no choice but to coddle aw noooo aw man can't believe I have this hot sexy guy in my lap crying ohbhughghh

- If you're pear shaped? He loves your hips. Man, woman, ethereal creature, it don't matter. He was born an ass man he'll die an ass man.

- If you like star gazing, he'll listen to you rattle off about constellations. He likes listening to people ramble about unique special interests because it gives him a little taste of variety in his quiet life.

NSFW

- big. Thick. Cut.

- leftward pitch and he loves doing mating presses.

- much more inclined to rough sex (obviously)

- I do know he likely and unfortunately assaulted those ladies on the wall but in my HCs I like to think it was CNC instead. What stops him from doing the same here is you're too loud and mouthy, so the attraction is initially not there.

- As you soften up because of Vin though, and start opening up and smiling and being cute, he can't help but let his mind roam sometimes.

- Loves fantasizing you in different little costumes to dress up in. A visitor once visited and she was a cam girl! In your size! So lucky!

- please were garter belts this man will not be normal

- Loves intercurral. To punish you if he catches you masturbating, he'll fuck your thighs until he cuts, leaving you all hot and bothered.

- The basement does not come into equation until after the first time. And the first time is more of a gentle, romantic moment of vulnerability.

- Your first time was during a thunderstorm and you were telling him about your past and how so many people hurt you. Abused you. He felt so connected to you. You always held back your anger and he let you express it by throwing stuff and by the end of it you were a sobbing and screaming and laughing mess and he was standing in the debris and he saw himself and he reached out and kissed you in an attempt to ammend himself.

- When he made love to you that night, he decided your ass is never moving out sorry lol

- Exhibitionist. Likes to take you to Baton Rogue for little dates and fucks you in alleys and parks. The most exciting was a drive in theater he took you to where you gave him head. He fucked you in the wooded area outside after.

- PRIESTKINKPRIESTKINK

- Hahaha okay but what if you confessed and he fucked u in the confessional would that be crazy or what

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a few HOW headcanons actually!

- the boys do the whole house of Wax thing in an attempt to get rich. Bo decided "oh I guess I could be mayor but hm no money here" and he rubbed two cells together and was like "WHAT IF WE MADE AN ATTRACTION THAT WAS THE BESTEST."

- tricked Vin into it cause "they're carrying Mom's legacy :(((( she'd love this trust me we're gonna expand the house into a town it'll be great."

- Lester's there cause he loves his brother's and is also admittedly a bit crazy himself. He's definitely tied a few people up and intimidated people, but that's not his usual job. He's too baby.

- Canonically, where Ambrose is located, it would be a roughly 30 min drive (or 2 hours I forgor lol) to Baton Rogue! So fun fact. They're Baton boys uwu

- I think even though Bo is a good cook, gumbo is Lester's wheelhouse cause he's just got that swagger to him. Like if I met Lester and he was like "do u want me to make you gumbo" I'd say yes, no hesitation.

[coralinnii]

I had some people a little curious as to how I rated the TWST boys in my "TWST guys I would let date my niece (theoretically)" post in terms of personality only (considering they're fictional and my niece is 10). I can't completely answer everyone since there's only so many words tumblr would let me write as a reply, so here's for anyone who was curious.

The rating system was created alongside my niece on what she wanted in a partner (as much as she understood dating, anyway), compatibility with her personality, and my input as someone who has either met, known, or fortunately and unfortunately dated ppl with such personalities. With this in mind, maybe our list would be different from how you would categorize, which yea fair enough. This is all hypothetical anyway and it was interesting to see what my niece likes.

This does NOT mean I dislike any of the TWST guy. Seeing how unique each of them are personality-wise is honestly amazing and I want to believe that even if you have what people call "red-flags", "dealbreakers" or "turn-offs", that doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, just incompatible (with exceptions of like really toxic, destructive traits, like stealing someone's dog. Don't do that, guys).

Has my seal of approval

Trey responsible, good work ethic, loves to bake + the bonus of cute glasses (apparently me and my niece really like glasses).

Kalim fun-loving, open to new experiences, optimistic, and willing to learn if you're willing to teach.

Silver kind if a bit intimidating-looking, takes care of others, family-oriented,

Jack responsible, good lifestyle, works hard, kind while kinda grumpy, family-oriented.

Vil responsible, good life habits, works hard for success, not stuck on gender norms, kind if sort of stuck-up.

Lilia mature, fun-loving, open to new experiences, loves kids, not quick to anger. He does have his secrets, tho.

Neige kind, works hard for success, not afraid to be silly,

Ok…but I’m keeping an eye on you

Ace he's kinda lazy and willing to cheat in school but not a bad person.

Cater not willing to be vulnerable sometimes but is a responsible person that respects boundaries.

Azul a bit too opportunistic (in a sense he's also judging the value of anything, first) for me and may not vibe well with my niece but not bad.

Jamil not happy with how he sometimes lies and insincerely flatters others, but I don't think he does it maliciously so not a bad guy(?)

Ortho prone to violence if he thinks that's the best logical solution (i.e, hacking into security and blowing up the school??) so kinda worried.

Chenya a little too fickle and in-and-out physically which worries me, but he seems loyal and brave.

First, you and I are gonna have a talk

Riddle mainly his temper and impatience…and the in-laws

Deuce also his temper, and my niece prefers smart ppl (ooff)

Ruggie the 5-finger discount don’t fly under my watch

Epel also temper and prone to get into fights in the beginning. Also, my niece's not into the "gotta be manly" mentality, what are you gonna do?

Sebek it's mostly the temper and shouting…and tone down the Malleus simping

Jade don’t be bringing drama into my household

Rook it’s the creepy simping

Malleus kinda seen in early Book 7 and the spectral realm event, he doesn't communicate and talk things through with others and just does things on his own because he's powerful enough to do so, which is just...something we gotta talk about, first.

Oh, you and I are gonna fight, first!

Leona spoiled to high heavens, gives up on a lot of things, and is too used to having things done for him. I'm not letting my niece become his maid!

Floyd No...just no. He's the friend that I worry my niece will someday have to pick up at the police station. No

Idia Quick to judge others, kinda thinks he's smarter than everyone, and has a hard time communicating and socializing even with his friends and partners. I know this because I used to date someone like Idia, and currently have a crush on another person very similar to him.

Rollo Also (sorta) dated someone like him which is...an experience. Treated me as someone pure and sweet, but disliked my friends because she thought they were bad influences. Also really wanted me to join her kinda sketchy religious thing which I wasn't really into.

[dia-souls]

🥀 Subayui fanfic 🥀

Pairing : Subaru 🗡️ and Yui🌸

Author: Admin Ava

Genre: Romance, Cute, Fluffy, good ending

TW: Nightmare, servant abusing, childhood Nightmare

Admin's Note: I wanted to write a moment where Subaru not only shows how much he improved mentally because of Yui help also physically help him relieve some of his trauma.

🥀 A Night Just for Us 🥀

Sounds of feet pounding against leaves on the ground.

*Crunch! Crunch!*

Butler: Quickly! We must return him to the manor before Lord Karlheinz returns!

Maid: Young master Subaru, please come back here! You'll get in trouble if you don't return to the castle! ...not to mention his mother will probably go mad once she realizes he's missing... .

Young Subaru makes a sharp left turn, sliding under a sort of bramble bushes. Wincing in pain, a few needles gab into his skin.

Subaru: Leave me alone! I refuse to go back to that hellhole! My father is dammed for all I care!

Subaru picks up speed, he levitates off the group and flys into a forest of tall trees.

Maid: Damnit, we lost him! No, what do we do?! If we don't find him before Master returns, ....he'll have our heads on a pole!

Butler: Calm yourselves! There is no need for us to panic, remember he ran into the forest without thinking. He doesn't know how to navigate it unlike the two of us. It's only a matter of time before he either gets too scared or famished. All we have to do is wait for him to come to us.

Maid: Are you sure that he will come to fruition? Master Subaru is as hotheaded as he is stubborn. With a temper like his, there is no telling how long he can stay in there.

Butler: I'm positive, after all, he's a spoiled pampered brat who hasn't stepped out of the manor in years. Can't even tell the difference between day and night let alone make it too far on his own. He's naive, gullible, defiant, and incapable of keeping himself safe. It's only a matter of patience. Come, while he's looking for a way out, we'll gather the familiars to aid us in our search.

Maid: If you're sure, hopefully, that brat doesn't get us in any trouble. I'd hate to deal with the demented bitch of mother he has. Lady Christa, we'll surely bring hell upon us all if her son isn't found.

The servants leave, heading back to the castle.

*Time skip*

Subaru floats in the air as his eyes survey the surrounding area.

Subaru: Ha...it looks like I finally got rid of those guys. Good riddance, I hope that bastard gives them hell once they return. Serves them right for trying to bring me back to that place.... .

Subaru looks down, his eyes clouded with sleep and resentment as he clutches his hands into tight fists.

Subaru: ..I'll never go back...I'd rather die than put up with that place again...

Subaru floats down to the ground, landing on a pile of brown leaves. A loud breeze rushes past the young boy making him shiver. Immediately he rubbed his arms to create some friction to warm him up.

Subaru: Ahcoo! Ugh, I should've brought a jacket before I left, well it's too late to go back now. Those guys are already back at the castle gathering reinforcements. I'll be dammed if they find me, better keep moving.

Subaru continues on his way, more cold air pushing past him violently almost making him fall. His nose begins to leak like a Fossette as specks of ice try to form on his arms

Subaru: *sniff* Why is it so cold?! Tch, now even the elements are trying to piss me off. Screw them, I ain't stopping for anyone or anything. The farther am away from those lousy servants, judgmental aristocrats, assholes of a father and.....

Subaru looked down sorrowfully, his chest tightening as he stared at the wet dirty sticking against his boots.

Subaru: Mother... She'll probably lose her mind once she notices I'm not home.... who can blame her though, no one should be burdened with the sight of my hideous face. Not even her... I wonder where I'll go from here. I don't have any money, there is no one around who won't report me back to my father once they catch me. Maybe I can stay here in the forest. If I go far enough then no one will be able to find me. I'll be all alone without communication for miles. Just how I want it to be... .

Subaru continues his walk deeper into the heart of the forest.

*Time Skip*

Subaru eyes droop slightly, blinking rapidly to keep himself from falling over

Subaru: *Yawn* How long have I been walking for... It feels like it's been hours. I think I've gotten far enough from the castle, I should find a place to sleep... .

Subaru finds a spot under a tree to rest. Sitting on the ground, bundling himself up for warmth as he slowly begins to shut his eyes.

*Squeak , Squeak *

Subaru's eyes immediately shoot open as the sounds of squeaks in the distance pull him out of his tired state. Making him stand to run.

Subaru: I spoke too soon! I need to get out of here!

Subaru hightails it into the forest, turning left to right, up and down, over and under, in and out trying to get the familiars off his trail. Sweat drips from his brow as his heavy breathing leaves his lunges in cold clear puffs.

Subaru: Ha...G-Gotta keep ha...ha...moving! Can't s-stop...now!

Subaru pushes forward despite his trouble breathing, at that moment forgets he doesn't need air to breathe but is unable to think clearly as his mind tells him to just keep running.

*Crunch! Crunch!*

Butler: Over there! The familiars have found his scent by the forest river. We need to hurry before he escapes us!

Maid: Let's split up so we can cut him off! I'll head East and you take West!

The two servants nod as they take off in different directions with a familiar alongside them.

*Swish Swish*

Subaru's ears perk up once he hears the sound of water in the distance. His feet pounding against the dirt, noticing how he could barely hear the familiars anymore.

Subaru: Looks like I lost those rodents. If I can just make it to the river, I can make them lose my scent! I need to hurry before they catch up!

Subaru could hear the water more clearer making him run even faster. However as he ran, his mudded boot got caught on an uprooted branch. Tripping him harshly to the ground as he face-planted into the wet ground.

*Bam*

Subaru: Ahh! ... Ow.. shit what the... I fell over... I need to keep moving before... Ack!

Subaru winced in pain as a sharp object jabbed into his back.

Maid: Not so fast Young Master, we can't let you reach farther beyond this point.

Butler: Your behavior has been absolutely horrendous and completely unacceptable for a future prince. Your father will be hearing about this, you'll be brought back to the castle this instant. Grab his arms to make sure he doesn't try to get away.

The servant's hands start reaching down to Subaru as he struggles to break away. Their shadows clouded his vision.

Subaru: No I refuse to go back! I don't want to return back to that hell! Don't touch me! I won't go back! I won't go back! LET ME GO!!!!"

*Dream End*

Subaru: "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Subaru wakes up in a panic, his breathing heavy as his vocal cords strain from his hysteric screech. His eyes darted around the room like a bat out of hell, gathering his surroundings before realizing it was just a nightmare.

Subaru: Fuck...bnot again... no no no... why does this keep happening to me...

Subaru puts his hand over his face, his breathing still harsh but now mixed with the sounds of soft sobbing as tears trickle down his face onto his pajama pants.

*Scribbles*

In Yui's room during the first few hours before sunrise.

Yui: *Stretches* Mm! Ok, I think that's enough studying for tonight. I should start preparing to head to bed.

Yui raises herself off her chair, stretching her arms high above her head, working out the kinks in her wrist and shoulders.

*Pop*

Yui: Ahh~ That felt good, perhaps I should get something to drink before going to bed. It's been a while since everyone turned in for the night so I shouldn't be bothered.

With a smile on her face, Yui closes her workbook before placing it in her school satchel. Grabbing a pair of winter pajamas, she made her way to the bathroom to prepare for slumber.

*Time Skip*

Yui appears from the steamy bathroom with a damped towel around her neck. Her wet locks loosely stick to her face as she attempts to dry her curls.

Yui: *Yawn* Mm...I'm so sleepy, I can't believe I dosed off in the tube, hopefully, these wrinkles will go away before tomorrow night. Anyway, I should head to the kitchen pronto before someone decides they want a midnight snack...

Yui shivered to recall previous nights when she was at the receiving end of someone's meal because she decided to step out of her room without checking if the coast was clear. Not like it mattered too much since the boys liked to infiltrate her room whenever they pleased.

*Kitchen*

Yui turned into the corridor that led into the kitchen, halting her movements when she hear the tap running.

Yui: Ha...guess I spoke too soon. I wonder who could be up at this time? It's probably just Shu-san getting something to drink so he can return back to his rest. Or maybe it's Reiji, he does have a habit of staying up late to work on his experiments. He really should get some more rest.

Cautiously, Yui tipped to the Kitchen door, opening it ever so slightly to avoid alarming the person inside.

*Creeeaak*

Yui's face scrunched up, cringing at the sound the door made once she opened it. Planting her back against the wall, listening out for any movement.

Yui: (Shoot! Why did it have to be so loud, please don't come out here!)

*Woosh*

Yui breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the tap water still-

Subaru: Your not slick dumbass, I could sense your presence even before you came downstairs. Stop lurking like Weirdo and get in here already.

Yui jumped a little once she heard Subaru sleep sleep-ridden voice call out to her. Out of all people, why was he up so late she wondered as she entered the kitchen

Yui: "Subaru? What are you up at this-"

Yui ceased her speech for a second as she took in Subaru's appearance. He looked disheveled; his white locks were damped with what seemed to be sweat that had leaked down to his neck and back. Deep-seated under his bloodshot eyes were dark eye bags that resembled that of his other brother. The expression he wore was that of someone desperate for sleep but couldn't or refused to close their eyes. Immediately, Yui rushed to the youngest vamp, cupping his pale cheeks in her small hands

Yui: Subaru what happened?! You look like you just ran a marathon! Are you alright? Here sit down and I'll get you something to drink!

Subaru slapped Yui's hand away with force, a purple bruise beginning to form on the skin. Yui looked up at Subaru shocked and a little frightened from his sudden actions. He turned his face away, refusing to look at her, but Yui could clearly see the crazed look in his eyes as he gripped his hand

Subaru: Don't...Don't touch me...I'm fine alright. Grab your water and head back upstairs, before Reiji wakes up and yells at the both of us... .

Yui face soured into a hurt expression. Her mind ran with pessimistic thoughts of what could be going on with Subaru. Her instincts act without thought as Yui gets closer to Subaru.

Yui: Subaru...are you alright? Y-You seem frantic and distraught. I know you said not to touch you and head off to bed but...I can't leave you in the state you're in.

Subaru: And just what the hell do you know about the state I'm in huh?!

Yui: W-What? Well I just assumed that-

Subaru: Ha, there you go assuming everything you know because you think you know every little thing going on in my fucking head don't you?!

Yui: Wait, no that's not what I meant! What I was trying to say is that you look a little sickle and I wanted to know if everything was ok.

Subaru: Didn't I just tell you I was fine?! I'm ok so there's nothing to get your panties in a twist about. Just had a rough night's sleep that's all! Now stop pestering me and go back to sleep! Or do I have to personally tuck you in by shoving your comforter up your neck?!"

Yui stepped back as Subaru shouted at her. Her heart wrenched a little at the harshness of his words. Still, she could see that something was very much wrong with him. Despite his threats, she stood her ground

Yui: Maybe you're right Subaru... .

Subaru: Hmph, finally you realized that.

Yui: I'm not finished. Maybe you are right about me assuming everything about you. Sometimes I think I know you better than you actually do because of all the time we spent together. I consistently wonder what goes on in that mind of yours. Some days I can figure you out to a T, others, it's like I don't know who you are. It's frustrating not understanding how a person feels because then I don't know if I'm able to help or if they even want my help in the first place... .

Subaru stayed silent.

Yui: However, when it comes to you, I want to know everything. I want to know every thought running through your head no matter how important or minor they are. I want to know your emotions to understand you better as a person. For you to believe in me to tell me how you feel even when you think it doesn't matter. To share your pain and burdens with me so you no longer have to bear all that weight on your own. I can tell that right now something happened to make you this frenzy. I won't force you to talk to me if you don't want to. Just, please, reassure me that you're ok.

Subaru looked down as Yui spoke, only looking up when she backed away to give him some space. He still remains silent. Yui gave him a sad smile

Yui: You must be tired so I won't keep you from rest. I should probably head off to bed as well. I hope you have a nice sleep Subaru. Sweet dreams.

Yui took a glass of water, chugging it down before turning around to head back upstairs

*Clasp*

Subaru: Wait, don't...don't leave. Look, I'm sorry for hitting you, I didn't mean to hurt you I was just... on edge about being touched... .

Yui turned back to him.

Yui: Do you mind if I ask why? I know you are not comfortable with too much physical affection but what made you so antsy tonight?

Subaru: ... I had a nightmare. I know it probably sounds childish, but honestly, the whole thing in itself was full of childish behavior.

Yui: What was the nightmare about?

Subaru: It was...back a long time ago. I was a young child, maybe around 10. I was running away from the Castle, probably fed up with the place, and wanted to get the hell out of there. Two servants were chasing me, trying to bring me back to that prison. I was able to evade them in the forest if only for a while, until familiars started to track me down which made me start running again. I kept running until I heard a stream of water in the distance. I thought maybe if I went there I would be able to finally escape. I was wrong, my dumbass tripped over a damn branch that sent me flying onto my stomach. I tried to get up those two were able to catch up and restrain me. The dream ended with them trying to bring me back and me, desperately wishing they would get their hands off of me... .

Yui listened attentively, her face trying its best to keep face but slowly, it morphed into a sad frown with small tears welling in the corner of her eyes. Once he finished, Yui stepped closer, raising her arms insinuating if she could hug him.

Subaru: Go ahead.

Without thought, Yui pulled Subaru into a tight embrace, pulling his body close to hers as her hands cascaded up and down the small of his back

Yui: I'm so sorry you had to go through something that horrific. I can't imagine what it was like for a young child to be on the run, fearing for their life wanted that small sliver of freedom. It must've been so hard on you...What did they do once they caught you?

Subaru let himself sink into Yui's embrace, breathing in the cherry blossom scent in her hair, letting him calm down just a little as he nuzzled his face in her blonde tresses

Subaru: I don't remember much, what I do is my mother being absolutely hysterical about my disappearance. She gave me a good slap in the face after shouting at me. I don't even think I felt pain when she did it. I was used to her outbursts so it shouldn't have been anything, but... when I was sent to my room... I remember slumping on the floor and just crying like a baby.

Subaru closed his eyes, his ears filled with sorrowful cries of the girl in his arms. He knew the moment he told her she would ball out of sadness for him. Despite of depressing it was, it made him feel less alone. It felt good to have someone who couldn't share in his pain but also make him feel less of it.

Subaru: Hey...look I'm ok. Back then all I wanted to do was escape the hell I was unfortunately birthed in. I was surrounded by people who either hated my guts or just wanted to use me for their gain. Fucking bastards, sucking up to my father all the time that they forget about their dignity. I'd always thought that during that time, I'd have no one who'd stand up or look out for me. I never choose loneliness. It chose me, and I thought it would stick with me for the longest time. Then you showed up, listen to my problems, and annoyed the crap out of me while also making me feel like the most important person in the world. Even now when I'm being a brat not wanting to share how I feel, you still stick with me. I can't thank you enough for that Yui.

Hot tears streamed down her face as she looked at Subaru. He chuckled wiping them as he pressed his forehead against her

Yui: *sniff* I-I'm so sorry for crying b-but, I'm so proud of you. I remember back when we first met, how you would keep all your emotions inside and refuse to let yourself feel anything but anger. But now, you've grown so much! The transformation is amazing to witness, I couldn't be any more prouder of you. I'm glad I could help you appreciate yourself more. I'll always be there whenever you need me Subaru. You know how much I love you right?"

Subaru grinned softly at Yui, pressing a peck on the top of her cupid's bow.

Subaru: You practically tell me every day. Not that I mind of course. I wouldn't be able to make it this far without you constantly being by my side. I'm not religious and still think the concept of God is stupid, but I pray that we are always together. After all, a King needs his Queen, doesn't he?

Yui nodded her head vigorously, tightly embracing Subaru again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Yui: Of course he does, just as much as she needs her King.

The two of them spent a couple of minutes, enjoying the silence of the early morning night in each other embraces.

Subaru: Come on, it's about to be morning and I'd rather not burn to a crisp in the sunlight. Let's head off to bed.

Yui: *Yawn* Yeah not to mention we have school too. Would you like to sleep with me tonight?

Subaru smirked, grabbing Yui from under her legs, carrying her to her bedroom

Subaru: As if you had to ask.

*Yui Room*

Subaru placed Yui in her bed, soon following along, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. As Yui silently breathed in his chest, Subaru whispered in her ear.

Subaru: Goodnight my beautiful Queen, see you in our dreams.

*Smooch*

[oops-it-happened-again]

The Pretty Prince - Chapter 2

It bears repeating, I'm not looking for hostile discourse about camps and who's right and wrong. Please, do not come to me seeking to fight.

If this is not your vision, that's okay. Please don't come for me!

Also, I love Alicent, but - for the purpose of this fic - she's a villain :D

<- Chapter 1

Tags: @mamawiggers1980

Ellyn sets her plan into motion. It does not go as expected or desired, and she soon finds herself in hot water.

Words: 3,5k

Pairing: Aemond x Ellyn Baratheon (textual ghost)

Warnings: abuse, neglect, insecurity, arranged marriage, mention of brothel, mention of disfigurement, insults, slightly Aemond-apologetic, Aemond is a sad boy, mild violence, threats, sexual subtext & tension

Despite Hala’s protests, Ellyn proceeded to corner a poor woman leaving a nearby pillow house and convinced her to sell her the worn, translucent shift on her very body.

“This is a terrible idea,” her maid insisted again. “This city’s crawling with vermin—you don’t want to stay here. Let’s go home.”

Hala bit her lip guiltily. “If you’re lucky, none of you has to marry him. He might well die in the war he’s started.”

She knew that it was treason to say such a thing out loud, but she’d served Ellyn for too long and too faithfully to want to see her mistress bound to an amoral monster.

Having been all but born into service to the family, Hala had never known a life without Ellyn—they had been childhood companions and mutual adolescent confidantes, and, on many an ill-advised adventure, they’d only relied on each other before.

“My father gave his word, and I intend to keep it,” Ellyn replied in a steely tone. “I shall find out what I need to know, and then we can turn back.”

Sighing in exasperation, Hala thus dutifully followed her into the meandering labyrinth of King’s Landing’s smaller, less reputable streets.

They took a room in a small inn, and Hala would have much preferred if they’d asked the serving wench to bring up a plate of cold meat and dark bread, but Ellyn insisted on eating in the common room instead.

“Your grandsire has loved you too much,” the maid muttered disobligingly. “He’s spoiled you and given you strange notions about danger.”

“That may be so,” Ellyn agreed, “but I want to listen to what the people say.”

Unfortunately, they learned little and less. The smallfolk’s worries were centred around mundane considerations like the tightening blockade and the imminent end of summer rather than the intrigues of the crown.

From what she could gather from eavesdropping discreetly, those who did take an interest were rarely of one mind when it came to the “rightful” heir. One thing seemed clear, though, few were those who liked Aemond.

He was deemed useful, and the sheer size of his dragon was a source of reassurance and dread alike, but the man himself seemed to be but a bitter-tasting afterthought.

“Let’s retreat,” Hala pleaded again once their dinner had been consumed and their tankards emptied. “There’s nought more to be learned tonight.”

And, as much as Ellyn yearned to stay in the crowded, smoky room and listen to strangers talk about things she didn’t understand, she finally gave in.

She didn’t want to be found out too early by lingering overlong, so she let her faithful maid lead her away to where none would find her.

It felt as if she’d only just settled on the lumpy mattress when Ellyn awoke once more to the sound of distant wailing.

Being no stranger to ominous commotions in the middle of the night, she leapt up and padded to the window—the flimsy curtain felt greasy and grimy beneath her clammy fingers, and when she pulled it aside, she found that the street was alight with torches.

“What is it?” Hala joined her by the small cut-out in the rough wall.

“If only I knew,” Ellyn whispered, wishing desperately that her grandfather Boremund was alive still. He would have known what to do and how to act—he’d have instructed her on how to deal with his son’s potential overreaching and the prospect of wedlock.

As the two women looked on, spellbound, people hurried to and fro frantically, banging on doors and spreading their seemingly monumental tidings.

It took another hour at least for Ellyn and Hala to overhear a conversation outside the door to the small lodging house.

“They say the heir has been murdered—it was surely that one-eyed degenerate they were looking for. The King…”

The rest of the sentence was swallowed hastily as a tall, dark-clad, eerily familiar figure pushed its way through the throng of gossipmongers ruthlessly without even taking the time to inquire what had happened.

“It cannot be,” Hala whispered. “By the Seven—it mustn’t be. This is not a safe place, Milady, let’s leave now.”

Every fibre in Ellyn’s being knew that her maid was right, but she couldn’t overcome her instinctive reluctance.

“Someone is trying to murder one who might soon be my brother-in-law,” she murmured pensively.

“And a good thing too,” Hala hissed vehemently. “Cassandra can’t have him, he won’t have Maris, and you wouldn’t let him have Floris. So he might well be destined to become your Lord.”

“If that is so,” Ellyn whispered. “Is it not my duty to stand by him in his time of need?”

“Certainly not,” Hala exclaimed, clutching at her shoulders. “Come away, Milady, I beg you!”

“If he comes back tomorrow, Hala,” Ellyn said without taking her eyes off the milling street below. “I shall go down and enact my plan. I must know what kind of man he is.”

Clenching her teeth, Hala resolved that—if Aemond turned out to be even half the beast people thought him to be—she’d kill him with her own two hands.

“Where were you?” Alicent hissed, her eyes wide and frantic.

She reminded Aemond of a horse about to bolt through solid wood and cutting cables in its sheer panic.

“I was out,” he replied calmly. “Where’s my sister?”

When his mother’s eyes grew cold and hard, Aemond realised that he’d disappointed her once again. He’d failed to ask about his brother, his king, and she was eager to take this omission as an offence.

“Father has informed me that you were happy enough to plot behind our backs,” she hissed. “But when we needed you, you were nowhere to be found.”

Pressing his lips together so tightly it hurt to keep from asking where she had been when her grandson and the future of a tottering realm had been murdered in his bed, Aemond weathered her helpless disdain as he always had.

She didn’t even bother to dismiss him—the dowager queen simply drifted out of the room without another word, leaving him to his private thoughts and regrets.

All eyes were now on the royal family—the people wanted to see the bereaved mother and Viserys’s dignified, mournful widow while Aegon raged, and Otto connived coldly.

In this game of appearances, there was no place for one for whom nobody—not even his own kin—felt any sympathy.

Thus, Aemond stayed in the background, musing about Daemon’s daring plot obsessively; he was flattered to be considered so awful a threat, but he also felt unbearably guilty.

This was the second boy who’d been wrenched from his mother because of him. Of course, Aemond knew that he was but one part in the ponderous, terrible machine of war and succession, but he resented the fact that, rather than being an innocent cog, he was the teeth of the very monstrosity grinding his family to dust.

As the night wore on, he had to wonder whether his mother or grandsire would have taken such drastic measures if it had been Alicent’s second-born who’d been killed in an unfortunate accident. Probably not.

The next day, he was in a constant state of readiness. Nobody called on him to represent—Aemond should not have been surprised by that, but it hurt nevertheless to realise how little he was valued beyond his martial prowess.

The bitterness ebbing and surging within his tight throat was profoundly undignified, and—when at last he could take the silent rooms and empty halls no more—he fled the Keep to find solace in the arms of one who’d never denied him.

Of course, Madame Silvi was paid handsomely for her services, but he liked to imagine that she cared for him at least a little.

Here, in this pit of squalor and sin, he could shed the mask of cold indifference and haughty self-aggrandization to admit that he regretted the whole incident that had triggered such an avalanche of misery.

She listened—she understood.

“I’ll be right back,” the ageing prostitute whispered tenderly—she’d heard one of the younger girls squeal and wanted to make sure none of their patrons was taking more than he’d paid for.

Sitting up slowly, Aemond focused on the ribald jokes and raucous laughter just outside the small alcove.

“You’re not one of mine,” he heard Silvi hiss threateningly a short time later.

Helpless anger for which he’d yet to find an outlet coursed through his blood as Aemond slipped back into his breeches and strode out forcefully.

Following the familiar voice, he found Silvi clasping the slender wrist of a young girl whose dark, flashing eyes darted around the brothel nervously.

At a glance, he could tell that the shrewd lady of the night was right—not only was that pale girl not employed in this establishment, Aemond was even sure that she was no whore at all.

The teeth she bared in a rictus of panic were well-kept, and her even features were devoid of any trace of paint or other artifice.

“I’ll take care of this,” he grunted. “Say nothing to anyone—I’ll pay you well.”

Half-turning, Silvi gazed upon his face for a long moment, pondering, before she nodded curtly. “Very well. Do you require anything?”

“Wine,” Aemond said with a dangerously sharp smile. If this girl was one of the conspirators sent by Daemon, he’d find out soon enough.

“Take the last booth,” Silvi instructed. “I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

As soon as her beringed hand was withdrawn, Aemond’s closed like a vice around the slim wrist.

“Come!”

Thus, he dragged the feebly struggling stranger through a dirty curtain into a secluded half-room. “So, you’ve infiltrated a brothel, pretending to be a whore,” he drawled.

Ellyn’s stomach was in knots—she’d imagined this to go quite differently and cursed herself now for not having listened to Hala’s wise counsel.

“I am,” she said as firmly and assertively as she could.

“Prove it,” the Prince demanded, sitting down on the edge of the overly perfumed couch taking up most of the small alcove. “Go ahead!”

The object of her dangerous curiosity had evidently come to the aid of the madam in a haste for he wore neither tunic nor shoes.

Even more curious than this comparable state of nudity was the fact that he’d not bothered to don the eyepatch he was known to wear whenever he was seen in public.

As her mouth grew dry and her tongue heavy, Ellyn had to admit to herself that this sordid establishment could probably not fully be counted as “public”.

Aemond, oblivious to how flustered his bare chest and firm stomach made her, sucked his teeth impatiently.

His evident disbelief irked her, so Ellyn stepped forward brazenly but then stopped again, unsure of what to do next.

She’d never had a lover, and it showed.

Moreover, she was still overwhelmed by how quickly and inexorably she’d found herself enmeshed in an undeniable catastrophe.

How had she been to foresee that the eagle-eyed bawd would catch on almost instantly?

She’d wanted to learn more about Prince Aemond, but she’d never expected to be faced with the man himself—especially in such a shocking state of undress.

“Gods,” she sighed, lifting a hand as if to touch his cheek as the flickering light from the tapers flashed across the precious stone wedged into his shapely skull. “That must have hurt!”

An expression of genuine surprise, at once chased by something hardened and hurt, rippled across his face.

“You’re not convincing, girl,” he said in a cold tone.

Ellyn realised that she had to move lest she make a bad situation worse by regrettable indecision, so she went to him, straddling his thighs and pressing a coy kiss upon the corner of his mouth.

Before she could so much as congratulate herself for this brave act, he’d thrown himself around, pinning her wrists above her head and pressing her into the dirty mattress with his full weight.

“I knew it,” he snarled. “Of all the things a whore does willingly for the right sum, kisses are the one they are notoriously avaricious about. Who are you?”

Rearing up frantically against him, Ellyn—bereft of her hands to claw herself out—tried to kick and bite in her desperate attempt to break free from his painfully firm hold.

“Dirty spy! Murderess!” he spat, his one eye wide with boundless ire.

Ellyn turned her head in a vain attempt to shield her face from the blows she anticipated—she didn’t understand the terrible accusations he laid at her feet, and her mind was too befuddled with existential fear to even try to make sense of it.

“I came for you,” she whimpered.

“That’s what I thought. Go on then, here I am,” he said, his voice tired and hollow now as he lifted himself halfway off her and extended his arms. “Do your worst.”

Aemond flinched when those soft lips brushed against his own once more so hesitantly that it could hardly be called a proper kiss.

“Did it hurt very much? Did they have to reopen the wound to…put this in?” the woman asked, tracing the scar marring half of his face reverently.

He was about to ask her once more who she was when the shifting light unburied a confused memory in his mind.

“I’ve seen you before,” he whispered thoughtfully.

The hand espousing the sharp line of his cheek now was soft and free of calluses, and the youthful face blurring in and out of focus before his solitary eye was fresh and smooth.

Furthermore, he could make out a hint of violets and rain in the discreet scent emanating from her skin—she was high-born, and probably very far from home.

“Stand!” he rasped, peeling himself off her soft, yielding flesh.

His unrestrained violence had left dark bruises on her creamy skin, and he shivered in disgust at this renewed reminder of his poor self-control.

She did as she was told without protest, though, and—as he drank in the voluptuous curves beneath the all-but-transparent shift—he felt his body react with visceral hunger while his mind was still entangled in the puzzle of her identity.

He was convinced that she was not a base-born prostitute, yet she was undeniably bare underneath the borrowed or stolen garment, and he was tempted to take her at her word. If only for one night of blissful oblivion which he needed so desperately.

The strange maiden with the sensuous mouth had the face of a girl, but the swell of her chest and the roundness of her hips told him that she was indeed a woman fully grown.

She shifted uncomfortably beneath his unwavering inspection, and the soft light dancing across her sweet features finally made the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“You’re one of Baratheon’s daughters,” he gasped, struggling to comprehend how that could be true.

“Ellyn,” she confirmed softly and curtsied. “We’ve not yet had the pleasure to have a conversation—your visit was…cut short.”

“What have you done? Does your father know that you’re here?” Aemond inquired tensely. They needed Storm’s End as an ally, and his blood ran cold as he realised that he’d almost destroyed yet another vital advantage by taking the girl’s maidenhead or life.

She scoffed, throwing back her long, unbound hair with a practised flick. “I’d hardly be the first young girl to lose her mind and follow a handsome knight,” she declared in the tone of one who usually had a cocky answer to even the most pertinent of questions.

Aemond willed the floor to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole.

“Handsome…what are you talking about, woman? Your father will have my head for this! And yours as well!”

“No, he won’t. He’ll agree with whatever lie I devise—I’m the least important of his daughters, and, if nobody knows I’ve been here, he won’t even ask where I’ve gone.”

The candid, humble way in which she presented so gruesome a truth gave Aemond pause—he’d struggled with similar thoughts earlier, but, unlike him, Lady Ellyn seemed to have made her peace with her position within her family.

“You’ve made yourself out to be a whore,” he thundered, hiding his confusion behind effervescent anger. “What for?”

“Nobody knows but you,” she smiled. “I’ve come to find out whether you’re a monster. I’m looking out for my sisters.”

At that, his face froze into a moue of disbelief.

“I am,” he then said challengingly. “What now? Are those sisters, sitting comfortably at your father’s table, worth the terrible sacrifice you were willing to make?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Always. Also, I don’t believe you.”

“You find me…in a whorehouse, in a state of disarray and undress…and yet, you don’t flee. Are you completely mad, woman?” he spat, torn between his expectation that she’d turn away in horror and his desperate hope that she wouldn’t.

“I don’t believe so, no,” she gave back conversationally and shrugged. “You’re a Prince of the Realm, and thus, it’s well within your rights to spend your nights as you see fit.”

“Have you forgotten what has transpired in the skies above your familial sanctuary?” he pressed on, determined to push her away before her candid gentility seduced him into revealing more of his pain than anybody could ever see.

“Orys Baratheon took Walter Wyl’s hands and feet as repayment for the one hand he’d lost to his father,” Ellyn shrugged. “It would be disingenuous of me to fault you for your claim, gruesome as it might have been.”

Speechless, he got up and took the carafe off the sideboard to pour the overpriced dark, heavy wine into the cheap goblets a discreet servant had put at their disposal.

“You’re one of the first people to ask me whether it hurt,” he then said without turning around. “It did. It’s a long time ago, though, and it was worth the sacrifice.”

“For the good of the realm, yes,” she replied. He could hear the creaking of the bed as she sat down again, waiting for him to hand her the drink he was holding so tightly he was afraid the stem would break off the flimsy chalice. “Nevertheless, it must have been frightening and agonising for one so young. I’m sorry.”

At last, he managed to reassert control over his limbs and turn around—he felt oddly vulnerable as he stood, bare-chested, before one so precious and noble.

Lady Ellyn’s smile was soft and dreamy as she took the glass and sipped daintily. “I thank you for your hospitality,” she said courteously. “Mayhap, I should indeed return to my father’s keep.”

Intertwining strains of greed—carnal, mental, emotional—flared to life in Aemond’s very soul.

He knew that he deserved no ruth, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of the crumbs of kindness she’d granted him even after he’d detained and hurt her in a fit of blind rage.

“You cannot,” he barked. “The roads are no longer safe, and nobody is allowed to leave the city. Haven’t you heard what has transpired?”

Her face fell, but her eyes remained dry as she met his gaze steadily. “Then, my fate is sealed. If I fail to slip back before long, my name shall be ruined, and I shall have to throw myself at the mercy of the Faith. Not the worst fate for one as me…”

“No,” he hummed. “The Red Keep has been plunged into chaos and mayhem. Everyone is much distracted by the demise of the boy. I can smuggle you in—we can claim that you’ve come to keep my sister company in her hour of grief. Surely, your father would not refute so noble an endeavour?”

“He would not,” she agreed. “Nonetheless, I’ve arrived too early for that subterfuge to be credible, I’m afraid. Where would you hide me in the meantime? As we’ve established, I’m less talented an actress than I thought I was.”

“My rooms,” he croaked. “Nobody ever seeks me out there—you’d be safe.”

“That suits me perfectly,” she grinned impishly. “As I’ve said, I find you quite delightful to look at, and I would learn as much about you as I may.”

That fragile moment of nascent understanding was rudely interrupted by the madam shoving the curtain aside roughly.

“My Prince,” she declared. “Your brother just arrived. Shall I inform you once he’s left?”

Sighing deeply, Aemond handed her the empty carafe. “Yes. We shall need more wine. I shall need my belongings as well before anyone recognises them and seeks me out.”

Turning to Ellyn, he informed her tersely that they’d have to abide a little longer.

“Very well, my Prince,” she smiled. “Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf, though. I’m not offended by the absence of your usual trappings and masks.”

So, this was the second chapter.

⤳Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you want to read more of this, please let me know! It's super sad and frustrating to write and post something without getting any kind of feedback.

[zweetpea]

TBRAHE chapter 7 The Husband

CW: Past child abu$e, swearing, gojo being a spoiled brat, gojo being a self centered prick

‘Why did he have to accompany her? I’m the strongest. Why didn’t she ask ME?’

“Your Majesty!” Someone knocked on the door.

“Name and Business.”

“Um… It’s- It’s Addison! The queen’s maid!”

“Oh, uh, come in I guess?” ‘Why is she here?’

“Sorry to disturb you your majesty but (Y/- uh, ahem! The queen… hasn’t put anything down yet for any of the meals.”

“Oh… um The queen will be out until tea time. For tea we’ll have Matcha and Kaiseki with our tea. Donburi for dinner, with a side of Amanatto for dessert. I’d also like to try the queen’s favorite meal for lunch.”

“As you wish Your Majesty.” Addison turned to leave.

“Why does she love you so much?”

“P-Pardon?” She asked.

“Why does the Queen love you so much? Every time the conversation shifts over to you her smile becomes so genuine! I hate it! No offense but I kinda hate you.” Gojo said brazenly. 

“Your Majesty… may I be blunt with you for a moment?”

“Sure…” He said absentmindedly, leaning back without a care in the world. Like this conversation was already boring him.

“I think the reason the queen doesn’t want anything to do with you is because you’re a spoiled brat, who humiliated her.”

“Humiliated her?”

“At your anniversary, sir.”

“But- but everyone knows that we didn’t marry for love! Why would anyone care who I brought to myparty?”

“That’s just it sir. It wasn’t just your party. It was the queens party too.”

“So she gets to practically grope you all day everyday, parade you around like a goddess, but if I wanted to have someone special to me by my side on a miserable day I’m shit out of luck? How is that fair?”

“Your Majesty, I don’t know what kind of relationship you think my lady and I have but I can assure you it’s not like that.”

…

“Your Majesty please, I’ve know the queen since I was a toddler, if anyone understands her pain it’s me. If I may be so bold as to ask why it is that you feel entitled to her love and affection?”

“I’m the king! And her husband! She’s never tried to get close to me before but now she’s in every aspect of my life! Pestering my best friend, her little boy toy in and out of Shoko’s office, and now this interrogation.”

“But sir! It’s not! I really don’t want to fight but I feel that it would be in both of your best interests if you took a step back and tried to understand how SHE felt about it.” She ran out terrified of what he could do to her for talking back to him.

Gojo Satoru is a spoiled brat. He gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. And if he can’t obtain something, then it’s unobtainable. That’s what he thought until you walked into his life.

“I’m Satoru.” He smirked at you. Before he knew it he was back in the memory of your first encounter.

“(Y/n) you stated not looking up from your book.”

“Come on sweetheart. Look at your king when he’s speaking to you.” He cupped your chin and turned you to look at him.

“You’re still just the prince. And don’t touch me!” You swatted his hand away.

“What’s your problem?!”

“I’m going to be married to an arrogant brat who thinks he owns everyone and everything. Well you can’t own me!” You glared at him.

‘Her eyes are like dangerous pools of fire.’ “Fine.” He stood up and left to go find his mom.

“Mom! Please! I don’t want to marry her! She’s mean!” He begged and whined.

“Hiroshi please be reasonable." Satoru's mother sat on an ottoman. 

"Chiaki you spoil him far too much." His father paced the room never totally looking at Satoru, though Satoru wasn't totally sure his father ever looked in his eyes. 

"My baby boy doesn't deserve to be treated like trash! My baby boy-"

"He's not a baby anymore! You coddle him far too much, I swear. Satoru, you will marry her, you two will bear a son to continue the Gojo name and you will grin and bare it. I will not have my son defy me."

"I don't want to! Mommy please."

"I'll figure something out."

"Like hell you will. You will marry that girl. I don't care if she's a girl kissing butch. We are Gojos and we will not loose our birth right."

"I'm not gonna marry that- that minx! I won't! I won't! I-" A smack sounded through the room.

"Hiroshi!" Chiaki called out as she rushed to her song who'd fallen back onto the floor. Tears stung Satoru's eyes.

"Guard escort my wife out, I want to talk to my son alone." He ordered. ah yes, when Satoru was being difficult Chiaki's son. When it came to the prince's image, or his usefulness he was Hiroshi's son. Hiroshi finally looked into Satoru's eyes and Satoru's blood turned to ice. "If you ever disobey me again, if you ever question me again, I will cut out your tongue and sow your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

"Dad?"

"Do you understand boy?"

"Y-Yes... sir."

'This is all her fault! She's ruining my life!' Satoru thought.

"Come on lady." He took your hand forcefully in his right before you entered your engagement party.

"You are infuriating, the moment I get home I'm scrubbing my skin until it turns red to wash all of you off of me."

'This little- no... just focus on getting through the night. Look at her, so smug. Too bad you don't have a book to hid behind now. You and your sharp, deep eyes. And her lips that look soft and- They're so cracked even under that lipstick! And her hair it... soft and smooth- NO! She's ruining your life, you will not be seduced by this vixen Satoru! You're a Gojo, act like it.'

"Are you two ready?" His mother asked. 

"Yes mother."

"..."

"What?"

"I'm... glad that I'll have a nice mother in law."

"She's the best mother in the world."

"..."

"I'm glad to have a father in law who respects his daughter. I'm sure he'll be very supportive of his grandchildren."

You felt your cheeks warm. "Pervert." 'She even looks cute flustered. No! No.'

The doors open to the grand ballroom as the announcer stands at the top of the stairs. “Introducing, the Prince of our great Kingdom, Satoru Gojo.”

The two start their waltz. 'She looks just like her father. Bored and snotty.'

It was four months after the wedding, and you two had only known each other for half a year. The got back toy you both one rainy afternoon, winter was particularly late that year, and the atmosphere outside matched well with the mood inside.

"Unfortunately the King and Queen were attacked by curses on their way to a peace conference. They've both passed away." The messenger had said.

Satoru froze. You came over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the contact.

He didn't know it at the time but that interaction staved you off from trying to induce physical contact, and the dead look in his eyes for months on end when you both were together didn't help either. You wanted to give him space. Neither of you were ready to rule a country, but you'd do what you had to to support your husband and your people. Maybe Satoru took that for granted.

"But daddy I wanna ride the pony! I don't wanna study!" Another memory, this one about the time Satoru was only six. 

"Boy get inside before I drag you in here by your hair!"

"No! I- Ow! Okay stop! I'm sorry! Daddy I'm sorry! Stop I'm sorry!" Hiroshi had made good on his promise. he had torn a few stands of hair out of the poor boys head. 

"Stop being a brat. You will refer to your king as sir do you understand?"

"Daddy- AH!" He had struck Satoru. "Sorry! I'm sorry sir! I'm so sorry."

Another memory. "Wow all this for me!"

"You are turning 8, it's a big milestone!" Chiaki said.

"You say that every year dear." Hiroshi said as he sat reading the newspaper. The royal family sat in the recreational room as Satoru open the gifts his mother got him.

"Hey... I wanted the blue rabbit not the red one."

"What?" Chiaki asked confused. 

"You got me the wrong rabbit color! This one's ugly!"

"Shut it boy! I'm reading!"

"You're ruining my birthday!" Hiroshi stood up and Satoru crouched.

"It's okay Satoru. I'll have Matilda fetch you the proper rabbit you wanted. We'll have it to you by your party this afternoon. MATILDA!! Fetch my son the blue rabbit and throw out this garbage! Oh and order an investigation be made, whoever bought my son this trash will be fired." Chiaki threw the unwanted toy to the maid.

"Really?" Satoru looked at his mother with big hopeful blue eyes. 

"Of course. Anything my precious baby boy wants, he'll get." She scooped him up and cuddled him.

"Yay! Thank you Mommy! you're my favorite parent!"

"Tch. Darn brat."

“Mom. I miss you.”

Before Satoru new it he was back in the present.

“How she felt about the anniversary huh? I guess she probably felt like how I feel about that knight following her around and drooling all over her.”

“Alright Satoru. You need to get out of bed! You’re people need you! They need to see that you’re okay, physically at least. Besides laying around in a dirty room all day isn’t good for you mentally or physically.” And just like that he was pulled right back into his mind. Every conversation he had with you you were the one who took the lead, leaving him flustered and scrambling to catch up.

~~~~

“Ruru! I’m so glad that you’re here! Cmon let’s go shopping!”

“I’m tired, Marissa.”

“But Ruru! You’ve been away for a month! We need to spend time together!”

Marissa was also headstrong, but now he knows she doesn’t actually care about him.

~~~~ 

You cared about those closest to you. He thought Marissa cared about him.

You stood strong against him. She fell right into his arms.

You hated him. Did she hate him too? Probably, he figured.

He… wanted you. The more he compares your interactions, the more he sees he wanted you. But he wanted a you that wanted him.

“I’m an idiot.” He slapped his forehead. He ran his hand down his face. He stood up and walked out of his office needing a breath of fresh air.

He wandered down to the thrown room and froze in front of a painting hung up. It was of you and him on your wedding day.

“I will fix this. I promise.” He said as he swiped his hand over your face.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

TG always saying that they likes team green because they are more interesting and I'm always... (??) I give my coins to Aemond and even Alicent at a certain point, who are the only ones I can find the slightest interest in, now you tell me that you think Aegon is an interesting and complex character? He's practically an abuser, what's so complex about that? "he just always wanted his father's attention" ok.. and? and did he think that by abusing the maids he would attract his father's attention? WTF!!

"all asoiaf characters are evil" yes! But I don't see anyone justifying ramsay being a disgusting person because his father didn't like him or that Joffrey is trash because cersei spoiled him a lot etc.

TG loves to talk about GRRM's gray characters until is comes to TB lmao. They'll write metas about how Aegon and Aemond are just soooo misunderstood then turn around and say Daemon is an irredeemable monster.

Personally I really dislike what was done to Aemond in the show, mostly because they took Jace's book traits and gave them to him. But yeah, even with the show turning Aegon into a crybaby with daddy issues, there's still no depth to his character.

Aegon stans are like those people who make excuses for serial killers because they had a hard childhood. Nothing they do is their fault because they're just a bunch of precious little sad bois. Any critical thinking goes out the window if he just looks into the camera all weepy (just like his mother's stans actually).

Basically all of TG are still bland antagonists even with the show's additives. Aemond is still a stereotypical tragic backstory villain. Aegon is still the petulant man-child who rapes and abused others. Alicent is the only character who's written with even less complexity: she's a perpetual victim who's constantly passive in her own life.

GRRM's books are full of morally gray characters, but he also has many characters who are just bad. Ramsay Bolton, Joffrey Baratheon, Euron Greyjoy, Kraznys mo Nakloz, and Gregor Clegane are all examples of this. Aegon, Aemond, and even Daeron are not characters we're supposed to look at and turn into poor misunderstood babies. They're awful people who did awful things, and had no remorse until they died.