#happy chaos x raven

[wermarises]

I made the rarest pair I fear

[urdreamydoodles]

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

[crossingthedreams]

growing pains — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: i know i’m late. shit happens. i’m having so much fun with this writing challenge that the lateness isn’t even bothering me anymore, lol. here’s day 08 — growing pains. of course i had to keep it in the family for this one (got it? hehehehehe)

a/n 2: hey! just posted day 10 - humiliation, which can be read as a prequel to this. check it out!  

summary: the daughter of the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince was a valuable trade coin. amidst the chaos, and fortunately for her, there was one who saw her as a person and not a merchandise.

word count: 1.7k 

warnings: angst. targaryen incest (uncle/niece). mentions of death. slight ooc!aemond.

As a little kid in the Red Keep, you were under the constant eye of your mother’s step-mother. Your parents were always coming and going, and your siblings were all boys, who had the privileges that came with it. Your uncles and aunt were most often than not more than willing to ignore you, as well as your grandfather, the King. 

Your uncle Daeron was sent away when you were very young, which was very painful, as he was very kind. The only one out of your entire extended family who could be considered as such. 

From then on, with two grown sons and one far away, the Queen seemed to have more time with you. She always praised your silver hair, saying it differed you from your older brothers.

You weren’t even a woman, hadn’t even bled yet, when Aegon made his first pass on you. He was to be married to his younger sister, the Princess Helaena, and he knew very well your father, the Rogue Prince, would gut him if he ever laid a finger on you. Still, he made his remarks and made sure it was known throughout the Keep that he could have you any time he chose to. 

Your mother spent most of her time in Dragonstone with your older brothers, sisters and father, and you got news from a raven that she was with child once more. Joyous news, of course. 

However, even in happiness, you still felt a little left out. With the Blacks, you were the distant sister, kept away by the politics of it all. With the Greens, you were the first trueborn child of an heir who would never be, your legacy tarnished by the constant discussions of your brothers’ legitimacy. 

Your Uncle, the Prince Aemond, was a constant in your life. Ever since birth, the two of you were always in each others’ camp of vision. Sometimes a bully, sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friendly face in tedious functions, Aemond was always there. You had danced with each other a million times in events, not only in King’s Landing, but all throughout Westeros. 

As the second son of the King and the first daughter of the Princess, you both were disposable enough to be sent wherever the Crown needed an appearance, but the royal family wouldn’t be able to attend in its entirety. 

He wasn’t always a dragonrider, much like yourself. You only claimed a dragon as an adolescent, and he made sure you knew how proud he was.

The Cannibal, your dragon. Never before mounted, always thought to be a wild, untameable beast. 

You proved them all wrong, and when you did it, their faces showed nothing but horror, except for Aemond. 

Aemond was there, and Aemond was proud. 

It was the dead of night in King’s Landing, but you couldn’t sleep. It was when you heard the muffling and quiet running of servants from outside your door. 

You knew you were in danger before anyone walked in, even though the reason was unclear to you. 

You changed out of your nightgown and hid a small dagger in your clothing. Something was coming, of that you were sure, and you wouldn’t stick around to find out. Women, even royalty, only had two fates in a crisis: death or marriage. You refused both. 

You didn’t fear for your life as much as you did for the second option. No one was insane enough to put a child of the Princess to the sword. 

It was then and there you knew you had to go to your parents, in Dragonstone. 

Aegon was married already, but there was nothing stopping him from taking a second wife to strengthen his claim. Queen Alicent was arduous when she needed be, and you had no doubt she would whore you out in order to protect her own children. 

Your uncle Aemond loved you, of that you were sure. He would marry you gladly and he would make sure you were happy. When you were younger, the thought made your stomach fill with butterflies. You didn’t need the Iron Throne, you were more than content with your beautiful uncle, who rode the largest dragon and was educated enough to carry a conversation for hours. 

Even with his quarrel with your siblings, he saw you as a valuable member of the family. The main reason for that, you now understood, was because  your allegiance was questionable. You were loyal to your parents, but you were also living with the Queen Alicent and her children. 

In your mind, all the family bickering and fighting could have been solved if Jace and Helaena were to wed each other, but the Queen refused, of course. A marriage between you and Jacaerys would’ve been the second option, and it probably would’ve happened, if Luke’s claim to Driftmark wasn’t so controversial. There was no doubt as to your heritage, silver hair and lilac eyes. You were the spitting image of your parents, and a perfect Targaryen Princess. 

Such were the growing pains of life. The nostalgia and longing for better days, even though the days past were just as tumultuous. Above all, you missed the innocence you lost. 

You looked around your room, and it pained you to realize there was nothing to take but yourself. 

There was a secret passageway in the backs of your room that would either take you to the Small Council or outside. Leaving now seemed like the only sane option.

As you made your way very quietly down the spiral stairs, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would've been like if your mother and her stepmother had simply gotten along. Maybe you would not be fleeting King’s Landing in the middle of the night like a criminal. 

It was then that you felt an arm involve you, paralyzing you, and a hand fly up to your mouth to keep you quiet. You began to react, but the soothing shh made you calm down. You recognized that voice, and you knew who you’d see even before you turned around. 

Aemond was hiding beneath a cloak, much like yourself. He looked around to make sure the two of you were alone, even though you were in a deserted, secret, ancient passeaway.

“Uncle…”, you wanted to be honest and simply ask him what was the matter, but you had to play your cards right. 

“Rȳbagon naejot issa (Listen to me)”. Your parents made sure you were fluent in Valyrian even before you fully understood the common tongue, and you were thankful for that. On the rare occasions you and Aemond spoke High Valyrian to one another, it was because something very funny or very important was happening. Now, you doubted it was the first.  

Aemond’s one eye had so many emotions in them you couldn’t focus on one alone, and his hand still held your arm tightly. You had no idea what he was about to tell you.

“Gūrogon aōha zaldrīzes se jikagon. Se dārys iksos morghe, Aegon jāhor sagon vēttan dārys sir se ao issi nykeā trade gelebo hae se tala hen Rhaenyra. ȳdra daor sōvegon se route naejot zaldrīzesdōron, jikagon naejot Dorne nykeā naejot se Arryn's. Aōha kepa jāhor ao adhirikydho. (Take your dragon and go. The King is dead, Aegon will be made King now and you are a valuable trade coin as the daughter of Rhaenyra. Don't fly the usual route to Dragonstone, go to Dorne or to the Arryn's. Your father will surely find you quickly)”, he spoke quietly, but intensely. 

“Why are you telling me this, Uncle?”, the frown was inevitable. Aemond had too many reasons to take you back, kicking and screaming, and present you to his mother. He was never kind, and this made no sense other than he was trying to lure you into a trap.

For the first time in your life, you looked at Aemond and saw exhaustion.

“Nyke bē ao daor naejot gūrogon aōha hen ao (I care about you enough not to take your choices from you)”, he said, not looking directly at your eyes. 

Years ago, you would have believed him in a heartbeat. He had just said the most perfect words a prince could ever say. Now, a woman grown, you didn’t fully believe it, even though your heart wanted to, desperately. 

You approached him, and your hand met his, that was still on your arm. The other cupped his cheek, making him look at you as you firmly said, “Gūrogon issa naejot se shores, mazverdagon issa aōha ābrazȳrys. Vīlībāzma hen iksos jāhor mōris istin īlon dīnagon īlva ēlī āzma tala naejot Jaehaerys (Take me to the shores, make me your wife. Whatever war of succession is happening will end once we marry our first born daughter to Jaehaerys)”.

You didn’t know how much your words resembled your mother’s. You would never know just how much it affected Aemond, making his manhood twitch with the thought of spilling in you and seeing your body grow with a little Targaryen princeling. 

In another life, maybe, Aemond made you his. But now, as he well knew, the two of you had dance the dance to the choreography that was made for you. 

He could still steal one moment, as all this was already borrowed time. Just one more.

So, he pulled you by your waist, closer to him, and pressed his lips to yours. First, your eyes widened, and then closed. You melted in his arms, and you kissed him back. The good feeling lasted only for a second before he was pushing you away.  

“Jikagon se ȳdra daor jurnegon arlī (Go quietly and don't look back)”. 

He was already turning back and motioning for you to go, leaving behind not only him, but the life you made for yourself, quietly. It broke your heart, but you knew where your loyalty lied: with your mother, the only heir to the now late King Viserys. Soon, you’d be back at the Red Keep, and hopefully Aemond would be forgiven. Hopefully, the two of you could pick up where you left off. 

Even with hope still in your heart, you knew the truth. You knew Aemond was just a memory now, even if you could still listen to his footsteps. You were older, wiser, and it ached, but such were the growing pains in life. 

[yzzyhee]

lucky three — sjy & psh

bf!jake x fem!bodied yn x bf!sunghoon

warnings: established poly relationships, mlm ( 1 kiss sorry 🧌 ), kisses? idk just fluff mostly (98%) , maybe petnames?? not proofread, anything else lmk!

synopsis: on a rainy afternoon, you and your boyfriends realise how lucky the three of you are to have found each other

wc: 1.4k

a/n: idk guys its just my bday… its been raining for the past two days and i badly need this to happen to me + what aj wrote in her guess who fic 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 read it now.

jake’s arm drapes lazily around your shoulders, while sunghoon’s head rests comfortably on your lap. the three of you fit together as if you have been carved out from the same piece of clay. nothing ever feels incomplete when you are all together.

"tell me again why we decided to stay in today?" jake asks, his voice low but with a playful lilt as he tilts his head toward you. he traces lazy patterns with his fingers along your arm, the touch sending electric warmth through your skin. he is always tactile — always touching, as if afraid you will slip through his fingers.

"because it's raining, and i love the sound of it," you reply softly, your hand brushing through sunghoon’s raven-black hair. he closes his eyes, his lips tugging upward slightly, clearly enjoying the soothing motion of your fingers. sunghoon is quieter — thoughtful; his affection comes in soft waves, almost unnoticeable until you are pulled under and engulfed by the depth of his love.

"you love the rain, but jake hates it," sunghoon finally speaks, his eyes still closed. his voice deep, resonating through the quiet atmosphere of the room.

" i don’t hate it. i just don’t love it like she does," jake teases back, glancing at sunghoon before turning his gaze to you. his eyes, always full of light, sparkle with a mischievous glint.

it has been like this for a while now — your lives intertwined so naturally. your relationship feels like a melody, each of you three contributing with a different note and yet when you’re together, you create the perfect harmony. sunghoon brings calmness and stability, a quiet strength. jake is the warmth, the laughter, the chaos and you’re the centre, grounding them both in a way they never realise they need.

you shift slightly, pulling your legs under you and leaning back into jake’s chest. you sigh, contentment washing over your face like the rain outside.

"you know," you say softly, "i don’t think I've ever been this happy."

jake's fingers stop their movement as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple. "that’s because you’ve got both of us," he whispers against your skin, his breath warm.

sunghoon opens his eyes at this, a small smirk playing on his lips. "he’s not wrong," he says, shifting so that he can sit up and face you. his eyes meet yours, dark and intense, but filled with so much love it nearly takes your breath away. "you’re our everything."

you feel a lump form in your throat at his words. it’s moments like this — when they are so open, so raw with their emotions — that remind you just how deep your connection goes. the world outside doesn’t understand it;

some people judge, others whisper behind your backs. but none of that matters when it is just the three of you, like now, tangled in each other’s arms, completely content with the love you have found.

"i still remember the first time we told you," jake says suddenly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "i thought for sure you’d reject the idea."

"reject you? never," you respond, shaking your head "you know i could never say no to either of you."

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, playful skepticism in his eyes. "you hesitated, though. for a second."

"i didn’t hesitate," you insist, but there is a teasing tone in your voice. "i was just…surprised, that’s all. it’s not every day you realise two guys you love are willing to share a relationship with each other and with you."

"and you never looked back," jake adds with a grin, his eyes filled with pride. "you belong with us."

sunghoon’s hand finds yours, gently pulling it into his lap, thumb tracing the back of your hand. his touch is always soothing, like an anchor in a storm. "we belong with you, too," he corrects, his voice tender.

your relationship is unconventional — some would even say complicated. but it isn’t for you. for you, sunghoon and jake it’s something as natural as breathing. there are no jealousy-fueled fights, no insecurities you haven’t already talked through. communication has always been your greatest strength. yes, it isn’t always easy, but you make it work because none of you can imagine life any other way.

"you two are everything to me," you say softly, looking between them. "i mean it. i don’t care what anyone else says."

jake's hand tightens on your shoulder, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "we’re yours. always."

sunghoon nods, his expression soft but serious. "we’re in this for the long haul, yn. you know that, right?"

"i know," you whisper, your heart swelling with emotion. "and i wouldn’t have it any other way."

the rain outside seems to slow, softening into a light drizzle as if mirroring the quiet calm that has settled over the room. jake’s eyes meet sunghoon’s, a silent understanding passing between them before jake speaks.

jake’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries all the weight of the moment. “come here,” he says, his fingers lightly tilting your chin to face him.

shift slightly, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and love that bubbles beneath the surface. the connection between the three of you is palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions. jake’s lips brush against yours in the softest of kisses — tender, almost hesitant. it’s sweet, gentle and yet it sends shivers down your spine, the kind that makes you melt into him even further.

sunghoon watches quietly, his dark eyes studying the two of you with a calm intensity. there’s no jealousy, only a quiet reverence for the love you share. after a moment, he reaches out, his hand resting on the side of your face, guiding you toward him. his lips meet yours next, the kiss deeper, slower. where jake’s kiss was light and playful, sunghoon’s is grounding — steady, like him. his thumb caresses your cheek as he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, both of you breathing in sync.

"you’re so beautiful," sunghoon murmurs, his voice deep and quiet.

jake presses a kiss to your shoulder before leaning back into the couch, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “i could stay like this forever,” he says, his voice breaking the quiet but only adding to the warmth surrounding all three of you. “just the three of us, like this.”

you let out a soft laugh, leaning into the warmth of jake’s chest and resting a hand on sunghoon’s knee. “we really do fit together, don’t we?”

sunghoon nods in agreement, his fingers running absentmindedly along the hem of your shirt, a comforting gesture. “perfectly,” he says softly, almost as if he’s still amazed by how seamlessly you all connect.

jake chuckles, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. “we’re like puzzle pieces. weird, unconventional puzzle pieces, but we fit.” his grin widens, eyes sparkling mischievously. “and no one else can figure it out but us.”

the three of you share a soft laugh, the kind that fills the room with a warmth even the rain can’t dampen. outside, the storm has softened to a gentle drizzle, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the window creating a peaceful lullaby.

sunghoon leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before turning to jake. there’s a pause, an unspoken invitation hanging between them before jake smiles and leans forward. their kiss is unhurried, filled with a mutual tenderness and understanding that never fails to make your heart swell. when they part it’s with a soft sigh, their foreheads resting together for just a moment longer.

you watch them, feeling a deep sense of contentment settle in your chest, you’ve never felt more at peace, more loved than in moments like these — wrapped in the arms of the two people who mean the world to you.

“let’s stay like this a little longer,” you suggest quietly, not ready to break the spell of the lazy afternoon.

jake chuckles softly, pulling you closer to him. “i’m not going anywhere.”

sunghoon hums in agreement, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

and with that, the three of you settle back into the quiet comfort of each other’s embrace, the rain outside fading into the background as your world becomes nothing but the love and warmth that you share.

it’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are — to have found not just one, but two souls that complete you in ways you never thought possible.

[imachaoticghost]

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tu

Summary: Timebomb x reader matching things (accessories, clothes, tattoos or etc) because they would like to get married but uh you know (request)

Warnings: no plot, fluff, gn!reader, not proof read

Pairings: Alternate!Powder x reader x Ekko

A/n: since I didn't know if the request was meant for alternate powder or Jinx, I did both. Enjoy!

Alternate! Powder and ekko

I think if they want to get married, but they can't, they'd be the type to have promise rings.

Probably one with either three small gemstones of the colour of each (blue for powder, white or orange for ekko and whatever colour you like) or one with each of your initials engraved (as in EP and your initial)

Powder would probably have it on a chain around her neck, and Ekko either on his finger or in a chain too. Under his shirt probably, to not damage it or lose it.

You're just sipping on your drink, waiting for your two partners in one of the tables of the Last Drop. It's a lazy day, slow, sunny, nothing you wouldn't like to go out in. Vander is cleaning glasses when he notices the ring.

"What's that? Getting married already?" He teases, watching Powder and Ekko come in, light catching on the silver around Powder's necks. It isn't until Ekko puts his hand on the counter that he notices the gems on his finger. "Matching rings hm? Get engaged already" He teases again, serving them their drinks.

Benzo has about the same reaction when he walks in, a playful scowl on his face. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage" He scolds, not so playfully. But you all don't care, simply happy to have matching rings.

Then there's more permanent stuff, for example tattoos

I'd see ekko being a clock, and powder either a raven or some gears. Or then you could have the moon (powder) the sun (ekko) and the stars (you). Anything that is symbolic. The three of you would have the same tattoo with the three symbols.

I don't think they would outright tattoo their partners names on their skin, it feels too... impersonal in a way. Or maybe just not like them.

You were all lounging in Powder's hideout, thinking, talking. "What about tattoos?" You proposed, and immediately ekko started doodling.

"Yeah, maybe we could do like... I don't know, birds?" He chuckled, making various different designs.

When you finally picked your designs, you went to a tattoo artist, giving him a few days to create the stencil. In the end, Ekko chose to have his on his shoulder, and powder on her calf, the three of you showing it off once it was all done.

To be honest, it's probable all of your parents were quite sceptic about the tattoos. But once it was done, it was too expensive to get it off. So no one could do anything else than warn you it might not be a good idea.

It was. You kept it forever.

If they feel more like matching things casually, then there's three options

For clothes they'd probably go off a colour, for dates, for example, today everyone goes with a red item, like a jacket, a dress, etc.

Or maybe color coding, like, everyone wears a red top and a blue bottom.

Or maybe simply pattern matching. Something like that.

"I think we should do blue" Powder argued.

"But I want to wear my red jacket!" You complained. Ekko just laughed at your antics.

"But red doesn't go with my hair" she argued.

"It does, stop being a bitch." You muttered, shoving your red hoodie at her, slipping on your red jacket.

"You're finished?" Ekko mused, red coat already slipped on. "Were going to be late"

Powder pouted, nodding as you tugged her out, on your way to meeting with all of your friends. Everyone stared at the laughing couple you were, but how could you care when your girlfriend was snickering along with your boyfriend?

You could also match a piece of jewellery you would wear every day, so for example some earrings, a bracelet, a necklace, maybe everyone a different one but theme coded.

So let's say you do earrings, powder would be blue, ekko gold. So, you could be wearing sapphire gold earring, or a gold necklace and a blue gemstone.

More than everyone wearing the same piece of jewelry, they'd do like a theme and each wears their partner's theme. So ekko could be wearing a blue earring and a ring with your theme.

Or it vould be a charm more than a colour.

Everyone noticed it, from night to day, all of you had changed the usual jewelry you wore, ekko's plain silver earings had now each a small charm, different. Powder's necklace had, added to the crystal it used to have, two more charms with it. And you wore the same, well, not excatly, they had one you didn't, and you had one each didn't have.

And finally, the third idea I'd have would be key chains or trinkets. Something that reminds you of your two partners. Maybe custom stickers, or a key chain that says E and P, etc

You could have a phone cord made by powder with blue and golden pearls or maybe gears and clock charms, or a special key chain.

And they'd have the same. Of course, you add whatever feels like you to it. So let's say, you're red and roses, you would each make a phone cord or key chain (depending on preference) with blue pearls, mechanical charms, red pearls, rose charms and golden pearls and clock or clockwork charms.

"Wait- put more blue ones" Powded shoved more pearls towards you, your key chain having a majority of gold and your color. "Please" She pouted.

You willingly agreed, chuckling as she shoved the same pearls towards Ekko. "You too, there's almost none" she complained, like a child. Even if the majority of Ekko's was of both of your colours, barely having gold.

"Powder, we're going to end up with all blue ones" He chuckled, amused at her antics.

"Well that's good, everyone needs to known you're my partners." She scoffed, tugging you closer to her.

You ended up with an almost all blue key chain with mostly charms for Ekko and barely anything for you. Not that you were complaining. Now you had both your partners always in your pocket.

You could also wear matching nails, I feel like Ekko would love to paint his nails. Maybe a colour for each partner or the same colour for everyone. Although that feels less like their chaotic energy.

You held Ekko's hands, painting his nails, one blue, one gold, one of your color, another gold and another blue. Powder was besides you, shaking her hands to make them dry faster.

Soft music played in the background, humming along with it. Your nails had been painted by Powder and hers had been painted by Ekko.

"Do you like it?" You asked softly, examination his hands for any flaws in your paint. "It's cute" you hummed.

"I love it. It's really pretty" He chuckled, taking your hand and kissing it. "Like you" he winked.

"You're gonna mess up your nails" You complained, showing them off to powder. "Look, they're gorgeous"

"Like you" she hummed, grinning. They both stared so much you couldn't help but blush.

Jinx and ekko

If we're talking about Jinx, she would probably go the extra mile and get something more than rings, who knows how far that woman would go

If you're not much the extra type, she would do rings, and so would Ekko. Just like alternate timebomb, they would have something matching in the rings

Maybe three stones again, golden, blue and your colour, or maybe more like your three names together, but jinx would probably put yours in the middle

Ekko would just be the type to follow her ideas, as she's a wild card but in the good way. And she's dedicated

"And I mean, worst that can happen is that we have to make it ourselves" she joked, already picking scrap metal. She was going to make it herself, no matter what you would argue.

And then, a few days later, you would have each a ring around your neck, on a chain. Vi would ask her about it, and the firelight's children would definitely ask Ekko. But they would keep it to themselves, just happy to know they have their partners around their neck.

If we're talking tattoos, Jinx would get the biggest tattoo ever for you and Ekko, wherever you ask her to. Ekko would probably get it somewhere more discreet, he doesn't seem like the type to get visible tattoos, it's more something for you and her

The design would be way more attention calling, you could do birds, a raven, an owl and a bird for you, or symbols, her monkey, ekkos clock or gears and whatever you feel like fits you.

Jinx would totally tattoo your name if you ask her to, but ekko would probably tell her it's not the best idea, especially since she is still a criminal and the three of you are often in danger. Giving directly your partners' names isn't the best idea.

She showed up a few days after choosing the design, showing her back and moving her braids aside. "Look toots, I got the tatto" she giggled, showing off a monkey, a clock and your symbol. "It's about time yall get yours" she pouted.

Ekko shook his head, smiling. At least he had managed to convince her to not get your name. She went towards him, throwing herself on his shoulders. "Whatcha mocking me about hm?" She scolded playfully, glancing at your soft smile.

For casual matching, or date matching, jinx isn't the type to own a lot of different clothes, so she would probably add something symbolic of you to her outfit, like, let's say, a clock for ekko (I'm obsessed with the idea of clocks representing ekko) that she would wear every day

Ekko would do the same if you're up for it.

But if we're talking proper clothes matching, Jinx would just steal something, either from you or from piltover. She would do anything to make you and Ekko happy, your wish is her comand. And Ekko would just follow the vibe, he seems like the more passive type for some reason

If we're talking jewelry, Jinx would love to wear matching jewellery for you. Whether it's the same necklace, or a similar one, she says yes immediately.

Ekko might be a bit more difficult, but he would take an alternative. He would never outright refuse to match with you, how could he?

So for example, you could buy a matching set of earrings, necklace and bracelet, or something like that and they would each take one (jixn the necklace, ekko the earrings probably)

"Hey look what I found" you smiled, showing them three pairs of earring, one with a white crystal, one blue and one of your colour.

Jinx immediately threw herself to you, catching the earrings and gushing about them to Ekko. She took one of her colour, helping ekko put it on and begging you to let her. If you didn't have your ears pierced, you better have them pierced now.

Finally we have key chains. Well, I don't think any of them would be the key chain type so they'd probably do more like... charms that they put on their clothes and belts

Maybe something Jinx and Ekko would make for you, or that you make with them. Small trinkets you'd stick on your stuff

Ekko finally finished sculpting the same monkeys that were on his machine. He added a small key ring on top, putting it besides the other two. He just had to make the three clocks now and they would be done. Jinx would love to add the chains He thought.

"Almost done pretty boy?" You kissed his cheek. It was late, you should both be asleep. Jinx was already snoring on the couch, Isha laying in her arms.

"Almost. Go rest, I'll join you later" he murmured back, hugging you and tugging you on his lap. Maybe you should sleep in his arms, while he works.

And nails, jinx would love to do your nails like hers and also ekkos if he let's her. Just imagine, jinx seeing you wear her colours, I think she would be so happy and proud.

If not maybe Ekko would help you do your nails and you'd do his the same way, and you'd beg Jinx to let you do hers too.

I think that would be cute, that the three of you do each other nails, and make matching little designs and stuff

She was giggling like a school girl, painting your nails the same colour as hers. Your back was against Ekko's chest, his legs on either side of you, his arms around you.

As soon as Jinx finished painting all of your nails you pulled her in, wrapping your legs and arms around her, pressing her back against your chest. And that's how you spent the rest of the evening, all cuddled up.

Something else Jinx would love to match would be stuff in your hair. If you have it long enough to braid, she's sticking stuff into yours and Ekkos hair before you even know about it

Maybe just the same golden stuff she has or maybe actual little trinkets and charms that she made or found

"Your hair is so pretty you know that?" She murmured, braiding your hair, adding the same golden charms she had added into her hair and into Ekko's. "So soft, so shiny, how do you do it?" She pouted a bit.

Ekko watched her with a smile, adding the same charms to her own braids.

A/n: my phone hates me and I think this isn't the right version. But have it anyways because I will not proof read this. I'm sleep deprived and I have to sleep. I hope you like it ;)

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, all rights reserved.

[aikaterini-drag]

Movie Night

Pairing: King Loki x Fem Wife Reader

Summary: Loki and you spend time in your apartment in New York. You want to watch a move but Loki has other ideas.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, explicit sexual content, oral(fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, just shameless smut pals.

It was a well known fact that your husband wasn’t fond of Earth and its occupants. But since you were from Earth, Loki had no choice but to take you there whenever you desired.

Yes, Loki was your husband. Striking and shocking as it was, the infamous yet powerful Norse God was yours.

At first you were so afraid of him. The two of you had met during his chaotic time in New York, amidst aliens and destruction. Your meeting was wild and crazy, and Loki saw you as his enemy. You worked for Stark Industries and tried to stop Loki from destroying the world with the Avengers. Your attempt was pretty pathetic but you had to give it a shot. You couldn't just let someone trash your home without at least trying to intervene.

In the chaos of battle, you got hit by a bullet in the shoulder. Loki could have easily left you, but he didn’t. He took you to Asgard and treated your injuries with their advanced magic and healing concoctions. In a matter of days you were completely healed. All thanks to him. He’d saved you, and that’s when you started seeing parts of him that no one else could.

Loki was a never-ending puzzle, with so many tiny pieces that it seemed impossible to ever see the whole picture. But if there was one thing you had learned about him was his deep craving for affection and care. Beneath the stoic, cold exterior of this God, hid a child seeking love.

You and Loki dated for a year before he insisted on getting married. He was pretty adamant about it, especially after clearing his name and claiming his rightful spot on the throne of Asgard. As the first son, it was his duty, and Thor was more than happy to be the captain of the Asgardian soldiers and play peacemaker with Earth.

So now, you were Queen too. You had responsibilities and daily tasks that sometimes gave you headaches. You were never lonely and Loki always took care of you. But your husband was King, born and bred for the role, when you were just a human who had only ever imagined living in a tiny New York apartment, not glittering kingdoms and palaces.

When you asked Loki for a vacation back home, he agreed. He took you to New York, where you stayed in your old apartment. Loki had bought and completely renovated it. Now, it was an adorable small place with comfy and elegant furniture, a perfect escape from your royal duties.

That night, you chose to stay in and watch a movie while munching on snacks until you were full.

No duties, no attendants or royal meetings.

Just you and your husband.

You had already stocked up on all kinds of chips, chocolate and candy. Loki had just emerged from the shower, wearing a half-open green robe that showed off his muscular chest, still flushed from the heat. He looked even taller and more imposing in your small apartment, his wet raven hair dripping water.

To distract yourself from your lusty thoughts, you went to the living room and lit a candle. You snuggled into the couch, and that’s when Loki strolled in, his musky scent filling the air. He sat down beside you and handed you a glass of wine. Your glasses clinked and you took a few sips of wine and smiled at him, enjoying the rich, fruity taste.

“Good?” He asked.

You grinned. “You have excellent taste.”

“Are you happy?” Loki asked. As much as he grumbled about Midgard, he knew how much you missed your old life. He spoiled you as often as he could.

“Very. Thank you, honey. You are quite possibly the best husband in the whole universe.”

He bent to kiss your neck. “Quite possibly? My dear, I am unequivocally the best. And I can prove it to you.”

You moaned as his lips trailed your neck, dragging your neckline aside to kiss your collarbones. “Loki no.”

“Why not?” He looked up at you like a child who’d been refused his favorite toy.

“You promised we’d watch a movie tonight.”

"I desire to ravish you instead."

You half-laughed. “You ravish me daily.”

“And it appears I am never satisfied. So I crave more.”

“You know, sometimes it’s hard keeping up with your libido,” you muttered as he cupped your breasts over your T-shirt and traced your nipples. “Loki, wait—”

He grumbled and drew back. “You are one merciless woman.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’d like to watch a movie with you. It’s been my dream, being with my boyfriend—”

“Husband,” he corrected.

“Yes, being with my husband and watching a late night movie while eating snacks.”

“I shall indulge you, my wife,” he said, tucking his robe closed and trying to hide his raging erection. He flashed a smile, his white teeth gleaming, and added, “And then,I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

You blushed. Loki often said things like that, completely shameless. “You debauched God,” you muttered.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “A pleasure, darling.”

Sprawling his long legs, Loki tucked you in his arms, a soft blanket draped over you. You craddled a bowl of chips, snacks, and candy in one arm and the TV remote in the other, browsing movies on Netflix.

“This place is nice, even pretty,” Loki mused as he looked around the renovated apartment. He hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it before.

“Pretty, huh? I remember you calling it a ‘pathetic hovel’ last time,” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Well… that was a long time ago.”

“So, what do you want to watch tonight?”

He sighed. “Well, if we’re going to waste time with Midgardian entertainment, it might as well be brief.”

“Brief? I guess a movie then.”

“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I have to debauch you after that, remember?”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You know, I think you’re secretly ashamed to enjoy a little human entertainment.”

“No. I’m simply eager to fuck you. That’s one thing I will never lie about.”

“What a rake you are.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “If I must suffer through this, let’s get over with it. Please.”

As it turned out, the movie held Loki’s interest for twenty minutes before he started being mischievous.

Honestly, you expected him to start sooner.

He took a chip and pretended to accidentally drop it in your lap. Then, acting all innocent, he “accidentally” tried to catch it, slipping his hand between your thighs. His fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, but retreated when you sent him a firm look.

Loki resumed watching the movie.

A while later, he cuddled you close and “accidentally” dropped a piece of popcorn down your shirt, between your breasts. You barely held back your grin at his ministrations. He retrieved it and you stopped his groping with a gentle slap of your hand.

“You know,” you started, “for the god of mischief, your way of distracting me is pretty lame.”

He smiled and undeterred, opened his robe. “I’m hot.”

Your eyes strayed from the TV screen because good Gods, he’d opened his robe completely, giving you a good view of his glorious cock. Thick, long and fat, it stood at attention. It throbbed, thick veins running from the head to the base. You bit your lips at the bead of moisture at the head. Loki had a magnificent chiseled body, and his cock was like rest of him, Godly. Devine. Perfect.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ignore the emptiness inside you. Damn him for using your weakness against you. His green eyes glowed in the dim light, filled with a hunger that promised to have you mewling and begging for his touch.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the movie?” Loki asked, his voice a husky whisper. His cock throbbed from between your bodies, begging for your touch.

You dragged your eyes from his cock and up to his face. “This is not fair.”

“God of mischief.”

In a swift move, he shifted, pushing you against the couch with his body between your legs. You gasped at the feel of him against you. Warm, hard and scented with masculine musk, your husband was irresistible. The movie played in the background, but went completely unnoticed.

He caught your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth. “It’s time for me to have a taste of my Queen. I want my sweet human crying out, her pretty pink pussy clenching around me.”

“Hmm… yes…” you said in between wet kisses. “More, please… Loki…”

With a satisfied hum, he worked on removing your clothes, tugging at your pajamas and almost tearing your underwear. He tossed away both of your clothes away as if they offended him until there was nothing left but your smooth skin exposed to his eyes. Grasping under your knees, he steered them wide apart, and enjoyed the view. Creamy thighs and in between was the most pretty, pink puffy cunt begging for his attention.

“Look at that,” he drawled, his finger running up and down your drenched slit. “I could scent your desire all this time, my naughty little Queen.”

You opened your mouth to speak but moaned when one thick finger pressed inside. He gathered your wetness and pumped slowly, in and out, in and out, while watching you intently. You squirmed, seeking more, but he kept you still. A second finger entered, curling and rubbing that sensitive spot. You fell back, your toes curling. Licking his lips, Loki added a third, stretching you wide for him while his thumb teased your clit.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, watching at where your cunt squeezed his fingers. “So beautiful.”

“Husband, please.” You gripped his forearms. “Want them faster.”

Loki grinned and obliged, thrusting his fingers in a come hither motion. You rocked against them, panting and whining from overload. He kept his other hand on your inner thigh, keeping you open for him. Thrusting, stroking and playing with you, you came in a matter of seconds. Stars flashed in your vision. You were delirious, floating in clouds of bliss.

Loki retreated from your pussy, licking his fingers that were all wet from your juices. Then growing low, he descended upon your mound, his teeth nibbling at the fat pussy lips before flicking his tongue around your clit. Oversensitive, you tried to stop him but couldn’t. Body taut, you threaded your hands through his wet hair, grinding your pussy against his face.

A few more shameless licks and you cried out, shaking, coming apart with long-drawn moans. Loki didn’t stop teasing you, he fucked you with his fingers, moving up to devour your nipples, sucking the buds deep into his warm mouth.

“My pretty Queen possesses the sweetest taste. Can’t have enough of you.”

He claimed your mouth and you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Your hands traveled along his strong body, caressing his broad shoulders before traveling low to cup his cock. You pumped him, traced the veins and rubbed the leaky head. Loki hummed, pleased as he licked into your mouth.

Pinning your hands above your head, he grabbed his fat cock and slapped it on your pussy lips. He was heavy and hot. You watched as he rubbed the pulsing shaft until it was coated in your juices, teasing you by thrusting the cockhead inside your little slit before drawing back. With a whine, you canted your hips, begging him in a series of whines and murmurs.

He indulged you and finally surged forward, watching as your small opening was forced open by his dick. You both moaned at the sensations and once he was seated to the hilt you needed a few moments to adjust to the invasion. He was big, bigger than a human in every way. You always needed some moments to get used to the incredible fullness and stretch.

Even so, you always fit perfectly together.

“Good?” he asked, breathless and aroused.

“Okay, you can move now.”

Nodding, he pulled back, his veined length frothing with your slick before slamming back in. Having him inside you felt glorious. He did it again, his eyes fixed on your pretty cunt; he drew back till all his cock was out, then pushed deep, until his swollen balls squeezed against your ass.

“Loki,” you whined, not caring how desperate you sounded, “want to touch you.”

He freed your hands and you immediately traced his strong body, trailing your fingers down his neck, chest, nipples and firm ass while he pounded inside you, claiming your very soul. Clutching your waist, he went faster, his mouth devouring your nipples while you clung to his shoulders for dear life and rode higher and higher.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast and you shut your eyes tightly at how intense it was. Loki followed right after you, delving to the hilt and shooting ropes of warm cum inside you. You felt his release, every pump that flooded your pussy and overflowed, dripping down your the crack of your ass.

With a rumble of satisfaction, he set you to lay on your side, cuddling you from behind, his still hard shaft still within you. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, then suckled your nipples and cupped your breasts in his hands. You relaxed into him, your body lax and spent.

“We should watch the rest of the movie now,” he said in an absolutely serious tone.

You half-laughed. “We missed most of it.”

He kissed your head with a grin. “We can watch it again.”

“Oh, now you don’t mind?”

“I think I’m going to relish watching as many movies as you want, darling.”

To prove his point, he gave a shallow thrust—he was still hard and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“That sounds like a threat, husband,” you moaned when he draped your leg over his thigh. “Loki—”

He rubbed the place where you were joined. “I want to play with my Queen’s pussy while we watch the movie.”

You wiggled but he kept you lodged to him. “Loki this is too much.”

He silenced you with a kiss and drew tight circles over your clit. You felt warm magic permeating your pussy and knew that he was healing you. You no longer felt so oversensitive and the stretch of his cock was pleasing, welcoming.

“There,” he dragged his tongue across your neck. “I always take care of my wife.” He kissed your forehead and added, “Now put the movie from the start.”

“Lo—” you didn’t manage to let out another word and whined when he leaned down to kiss around your flushed nipples.

“Loki—”

“The movie, darling,” he said and gently thrust his cock, reminding you that he remained rock hard inside you.

Loki moved from behind you, his hands, mouth and delicious length of him inside you teasing you to another orgasm. True to his word, he ended up fucking you until the credits rolled and you had no strength to do anything else but melt sweetly into his arms and enjoy his ministrations.

[tealfloyd]

ANONYMOUS REQUESTED:

"Okay, okay! Hear me out on this: An MC who gifts every boy and the staff (minus Crowley) a specially made gift (alongside chocolate ofc) for Valentine's Day. For example, Riddle gets a bouquet of roses alongside heart-shaped chocolate, Ace getting a chocolate cherry pie and a watch, and Cater gets a skateboard and spicy chocolate.

I can just imagine the chaos that will ensue.

"Hey! Your chocolate is bigger than mine!"

"No fair! I wanted that too!"

Thank you and have a great day!"

AN UNTYPICAL VALENTINE’S

“Congratulations, MC. You have now become the Santa of Valentine’s Day!”

SUMMARY: It's Valentine's Day in Twisted Wonderland, and you already know what that means: a mix of chocolates and petty discussions~! (Everyone x Fem!Reader)

WARNINGS: None... Other than MC’s empty wallet.

CONTENT: Ortho doesn’t have a section, but his reaction is described in the introduction. Me trying to understand these boys and their past, so they might seem a little ooc. Also Lilia’s part may have end up a little too philosophical. 

A/N: Okay okay. I know Valentine’s was five months ago, and that I was in an unexpected hiatus for more than six months, but I just really wanted to post this because this draft was eating me alive. Also, I don’t know why, but Pomefiore’s part was so difficult to write, and thus, I ended up giving up temporarily.

Annnd, I know that the request asked for the staff as well, but I didn’t want to make this longer than it already is, so I decided I will post it separately. Eventually.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! :)

WORDS: 10K+

Ah, Valentine’s Day. A lively festivity that encompasses love and friendship, usually celebrated by those who want to demonstrate affection to the people they care about the most, being in a platonic or a romantic way.

Yet, that’s talking outside of Night Raven College, an academy that’s full of eccentric students, and so, on behalf of that eccentricity, things are a little bit different.

And it all starts with your protective and small companion, Grim.

You finished checking your bag for the last time before leaving, assuring that all the chocolates and gifts you packed were inside, afraid of forgetting any of them in the dorm.

“Sevens, how am I going to carry this...?” You murmured while staring at the huge sack that contained all of your presents, thinking that it resembled the bag that a certain character would only use every Christmas.

All you did was sigh, mentally preparing yourself to carry that seemingly heavy Santa bag.

Or at least that’s what you were going to do, until a sleepy voice stopped you from doing so, effectively getting your attention.

“Where are you going, henchman...?” Grim groggily asked, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. “And why do you have that bag...?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Grim’s drowsy expression as you approached him, scratching his head lightly. “You see, since today is Valentine’s, I wanted to make something special for our friends, so—” And before you could finish your sentence, an excited scream echoed from the old dorm, startling you both.

"Did someone say Valentine's?!" Conrad yelled, cheerfully floating around.

"This brings back so many great memories! I still remember all the chocolates I've received when I was alive. Such great days~" Brawley said, his mind consumed by memories from his past, all while wearing a nostalgic smile.

"Oh, what do we have here~?" Arthur asked, curiosity getting the best out of him as he picked some of the presents that were at the top. "Some gifts for your friends, perhaps~?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Letting out a soft chuckle while trying to calm Grim down—who was certainly not happy after the abrupt appearance—, you answered. “Indeed, it’s Valentine’s after all. Do they meet your expectations?” You jokingly asked, prompting a playful laughter from the trio of ghosts.

“I absolutely approve them, but I don’t know if those students will.”

“It's obvious they will! She even has personalized chocolates for all of them!”

“That’s true... I wonder how long it took you to prepare all of this.”

They commented, starting a light chat about the festivity, all laughing and having fun. However, in between the funny remarks and jokes, Grim had enough, whining in annoyance as his brain tried its best to understand what was happening.

“What are ya’ talking about?” He complained, turning to look at you with an angry expression. “Henchman! Explain this madness!”

“Well, Grim,” you started, trying to find the correct words to clarify the meaning of this holiday to him. “Valentine’s Day is—“ Although it seemed that you didn’t have to in the first place, seeing that you were once again interrupted by your strangely excited fellows.

“Oh!”, Brawley exclaimed. “Can we explain it?”

“Yeah, we’re the best people, er- Ghosts when it comes to Valentine’s,” Arthur enthusiastically stated.

“Can we make the explanation, MC?” Conrad asked, and since you didn’t want to ruin their happiness, you agreed.

“The floor is yours,” and with that cue, they stood in front of a confused Grim, who looked at you with slight fear and overall confusion.

It took you a few moments to realize that they took it quite literally as you listened to their old-styled song about the festivity, which maybe overused the word “love” in a romantic way... Yet, it was a detail that you didn’t pay much attention to, instead deciding to enjoy the show.

But someone that didn’t take this lightly was Grim, being that a certain sentence was starting to repeat in his mind over and over again: “A day when love stories start! Who would be the next one to take this important step~?”

He was so alarmed that he missed the part where they explained that it was also a day to share with friends, so the first thing that passed through his head was: “They’re tryin’ to steal my henchman! I cannot let that happen!” 

And so, a genius idea was born.

“I’ll go with you, henchman!” He suddenly exclaimed, taking you by surprise, frowning in response.

“Really?” You inquired, and so did the ghosts, adding themselves to the confusion train while raising an eyebrow.

“What? I’m just sayin’ I’m going with you!” Grim repeated, further confusing you four.

“Yes, I heard that, but why...?”

“Why not?” Your companion said, avoiding answering since he knew you were going to tease him about it, instead choosing to walk towards the front door.

“Why though…?” You questioned for the last time, eyeing him with suspicion as you made your way towards the door, picking the bag—that was, to your surprise, much lighter than you thought—in the process.

“We don’t have time for this! If we hurry, we can come back in time for dinner!”

Now that was the Grim you remembered, and even if you never thought that hearing that sentence would make you relieved your wallet isn’t pleased to hear this though, this time it certainly did.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, turning to your translucent companions—who still had their mouths wide open, very much resembling to a cartoon—to wave them goodbye.

“Goodbye, guys! We will see you later! The song was amazing, by the way!” Was the last thing you said before closing the door, snapping the ghosts out of their trance.

“Aw! She loved our song!” Was the first thing Conrad said, happy that you liked their performance, not noticing the strange looks he received from the other two.

“Is he just going to ignore the fact that Grim seemed suspiciously protective over MC?” Arthur asked, and Brawley shook his head, disagreeing with him.

“It’s not weird that Grim is protective over her, that’s like a world-known fact,” he paused for a second, as if trying to think of the results of your sincere actions. “I’m more intrigued by how those boys would react upon receiving such a lovely gift from their oblivious love interest.”

And that, my dear Brawley, is what are we going to witness today.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIRST STOP: HEARTSLABYUL

Heartslabyul was your first dorm of choice, and that was because you knew everyone will be in the same place at the same time. It was supposed to be easy; go in and go out.

Yet, what was the first thing you heard when entering the dorm’s living room? Screams. Certainly one of the most welcoming sounds while stepping into a place that embraces the idea of discipline.

Seeing that the other students (or at least most of them) were minding their own business, you thought it was not that big of a deal. After greeting the ones that weren’t busy, you both walked over to the kitchen, encountering a not so peculiar scene: Riddle arguing with Ace.

"Guys?" You asked, eyebrow raised as you wondered what happened.

"Oh, Prefect!" Cater exclaimed, cheerfully approaching you. "Thanks for appearing! This situation was #stressingmeout," he commented, thankful for your presence.

"Prefect," Riddle said after coughing slightly, attempting to compose himself. "What brings you here?"

“Well, since I assume you already know what day it is, I thought it would be nice to gift you some chocolates,” you voiced, chuckled at the expressions of your friends as you gave them their respective presents, who were pretty much baffled to hear that. “Or maybe you don’t know, and the heart motifs everywhere are misleading.”

The ones that caught up the fastest were Trey and Cater what a surprise, promptly putting two and two together and realising the reason behind your sudden but cute action.

"Sevens, is it Valentine's already?" Trey questioned, placing a hand on his hat to cover his face due to the embarrassment.

"Are these for us~?" Cater excitedly asked, already pulling out his phone to document this moment. "They are totes cute! Thanks, Prefect!" He said, taking dozens of pictures of the little red box.

“Valentine’s...?” Deuce muttered, face turning pale after his brain clicked and realised what that meant. “I’m sorry, MC! I don’t have a present for you!” He quickly apologised, bowing before you.

"You don't have to give me anything, you know?" You assured, trying to ease his concern. "I just wanted to gift you all something as thanks for all your help and support, and for being my friends, of course."

And that is how you make the Heartslabyul (and pretty much anyone in NRC) students blush in mere seconds; if these guys weren’t blushing before, now they undoubtedly are.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of these speeches!" Grim chimed, wanting to move onto the next dorm already. "We don't have all day! Let's go, henchman!"

"Geez, what has got into you today?" You said, turning to the students to wave them goodbye. "I have to go now; I hope you liked the— Agh! Grim, stop pushing me!"

In an instant, the two of you departed, leaving behind five startled students who were speechless by the sudden turn of events.

Riddle’s heart-shaped chocolates match his new bouquet of red roses.

Riddle never had a Valentine’s Day celebration before. Mainly because his mom, being the main factor in his life, used to call the holiday a “disruptive event,” and so, he ended up thinking that Valentine’s was an unnecessary and dumb festivity. You can now assume he doesn't think that anymore. As everyone already guessed, this boy was red; in fact, if you inspected his face closely enough, you would notice that his cheeks were tinted with the same shade the flowers gifted to him had, which he used to cover his face. And don’t get me started when he saw the chocolates; he nearly dropped the box out of embarrassment, not believing that you were bold enough to give him heart-shaped chocolates... But it’s not like he’s complaining so please gift this boy more heart-shaped sweets.

Trey’s hazelnut chocolates match his new set of heart measuring spoons.

Trey doesn’t know how he could’ve possibly forgotten about Valentine’s; his family owns a bakery, by the Sevens! He must’ve had the date imprinted on his mind by now! He's just wondering how he didn't think about it before while looking at the gifts, feeling a bit guilty that he didn't have anything for you. Although... That doesn't mean he wouldn't focus on your kind-hearted present, after all, who could after receiving such a detailed gift of your dear romantic interest friend? Immediately after this, he knows that he has to make something for you as well; something to remind you how special you are. Hence, why his mind is in a whirlwind of ideas, contemplating which chocolate would best match your taste, and what’s better, he can use that cute set of spoons you just gifted him.

Cater’s spicy pumpkin chocolates match his new skateboard.

Cater was very aware that today was Valentine's Day. Like, it's Cater we're talking about. He literally spent the entire week thinking of gift ideas for a friend crush in order to find the perfect one for you. He just wasn't expecting for you to pull an uno reverse card on him, or at least not before he gave you your gift. Less to say that he was over the moon with this action; he already had a new wallpaper and ten new posts featuring his new possessions. He was so excited that he forgot he had something for you, and by the time he remembered you were already gone. He figures out he can drop by Ramshackle later, but it didn't take long for him to realise that everyone would have the same idea. Oh well, what a perfect occasion to have a new skateboard~.

Ace’s chocolate-covered cherries match his new frog watch.

Ace has never been a big fan of Valentine's. After breaking up with his first girlfriend, he ended up disliking the romantic idea of the holiday. Though that didn't mean that he didn't like the presents and the chocolates, which he would sometimes receive. He used to feel confident when receiving those, yet he didn't give them too much importance, so he doesn't understand why he was blushing over some chocolate-covered cherries and a stupid frog watch. Like, are you mocking him, MC? Do you really think that he would use such a dumb thing? He definitely doesn't think that this is so cute coming from you, and he definitely is not going to use that watch everyday spoiler alert, he is definitely going to.

Deuce’s cinnamon flavored chocolate eggs match his chicken plushie.

Deuce isn't very versed when it comes to Valentine's. He did celebrate it with his mom, but that was literally it. The only times he received chocolates and other gifts were from anonymous letters, but he thought it was a joke, so he never tried to find the author (which ended up being a girl that had a huge crush on him). Hence why this boy is worried. He definitely appreciates you and your gifts, because it’s not every day that you get a Valentine’s gift from your crush! Like, what is he supposed to give you (even though you said it was fine) after you took the time and effort to elaborate such a wholesome gift? He ends up worrying so much about it that the chocolate has probably melted by now. But don’t worry, his plushie is still safe and sound!

You may be thinking that “they ended up living happy forever after,” right? No. That’s not how Heartslabyul works.

"Hey! Why is your chocolate bigger than mine?!"

"How is that my fault...? Hey! Stop trying to steal my chocolates!"

"There's no need to fight. I'm sure that the Prefect made sure to make everyone's chocolates equally."

"Yeah! You should worry about what to gift her instead~"

“I will take my leave then. You're free to come with me to try to find something that she would like.”

"Why did that sound so condescending...?"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SECOND STOP: SAVANACLAW

Savanaclaw’s was the second dorm you entered, and even if you loved the dorm, you weren’t sure how your chocolates were going to handle its weather because, surprise surprise: heat and chocolates do not go well together. Unless they like melted chocolate.

The situation didn’t seem to go any better, as you didn’t know where could the Savanaclaw students be. Well, all of them except for Leona, who was comfortably sleeping on the living room’s couch.

“Maybe we should find the others first. I don’t want to wake—” You commented, being abruptly interrupted by Grim and his yells, sighing upon the situation. “—Him up.”

"Hey, sleeping beauty! Wake up!" Your companion shouted, about to jump on his stomach before you grabbed him, keeping Grim from doing anything he might regret.

“Why are you being so goddamn loud...?” Leona grumbled, groggily standing up with a scowl on his face due to the sudden awakening. Looking at Grim, fully aware that he was the nuisance that interrupted his sleep, he sent him a threatening stare.

Before Grim could reply (or try to, at the very least), you stopped him from doing so, further explaining why you were in the dorm to begin with.

"I'm sorry, Leona. I'm sure it wasn't Grim's intention to wake you up in such a rude way," you stated, briefly glaring at the pouting creature.

"That's not true! And don't think that you've scared the great Grim! I—" Deciding that it was enough, you started to scratch behind his ear, sending an apologetic smile to the dorm leader in front of you, who seemed to be a little annoyed jealous of this action.

"I brought Valentine's presents for all of you," you answered, momentarily shocking the lion for a few seconds before his lips erupted into a smirk.

"Valentine's, huh?" He remarked, stepping closer towards you. "Then I guess today's the perfect day to—"

And just like we saw before (and will continue to see), Leona was interrupted, because students at this college apparently don’t like when people are about to finish their sentences.

Ruggie and Jack weren't far away from where you three were. In fact, both of them were preparing their meals before they heard your voice coming from the living room.

And when they decided to check, what's the first thing they see upon exiting the kitchen? His dorm leader shamelessly flirting with you at a really close distance while you carried a sleepy Grim.

"What do we have here~?" Ruggie chimed, walking towards your side so he could be near you. "What can we do for you, Prefect~?" He asked, ignoring Leona's death stare.

"And why did you bring such a large bag?" Jack questioned, making the two beastmen suddenly notice the heavy bag you were carrying on your shoulders.

"Glad you asked, Jack," you replied, looking through your bag’s different contents until you finally reached the ones that were labelled after them. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Immediately following your statement, you presented them with their respective gifts, easily recognizable by the distinct yellow hue of the packaging.

The beastmen’s cheeks were slowly turning into a bright red after receiving the present, treating the little package like the most precious thing on earth, which was true, at least in their eyes.

"Are these… For us…?" Ruggie hesitated, unsure of how he should react.

"Duh! Didn't you just hear her?!" Grim said, annoyance showing in his voice.

"You're just jealous you didn't get anything," Leona guessed, smirking upon seeing how irked he got by that teasing comment.

"I'm sorry, MC, but I don't have anything for you," Jack apologised, and before he could even think of bowing before you, you stopped him.

"You don't have to give me anything. As long as you like the present, I have nothing to worry about," you explained with a small smile, starting to walk towards the exit. "Unfortunately, I can't stay for much longer. So, I guess I will see you later!" 

And with that, you managed to leave just before your fluffy companion started to complain.

Leona’s smoked dark chocolates match his new lion pendant.

Leona isn’t that used to celebrating holidays, and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He would sometimes receive large amounts of gifts, ranging from expensive jewelry to different sets of clothing; things that he would just leave unused and forgotten. But your gift is a different story. You can be sure this man is going to use that necklace until he dies. He’s not going to entertain the possibility of it going missing in the depths of his bedroom, already frowning at the imaginary scenario of looking at your sad face while you ask where his gift was. He even clicks his tongue in annoyance, putting on the pendant to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Let’s see how fast you catch on this one, herbivore.

Ruggie’s mini donuts covered in chocolate match his new handmade bracelet.

Ruggie hasn't received, nor gifted a Valentine's gift ever. Holiday presents were (and still are) something that he deems as important and special. The only times when he did gift something to someone were during birthdays and as thanks, and vice versa. He’s not used to receiving presents outside those situations, and what’s even more surprising to him is that you were the one that brought the gift. Actually, no; what’s more surprising than that is that you don’t want anything in return, something that really caught him off guard. Less to say that he is going to be over-protecting those presents; this was something that you made for him and him only, and so it shall continue that way except the donuts, he can’t let them rot, can he?

Jack’s pear cider chocolates match his new snowboarding gloves. 

Jack has actually received quite a few Valentine’s gifts, but the thing is, just like Deuce, he still doesn’t know who the person behind those presents was. He never paid a lot of attention to it at the time, and so he continued with his life. Now he’s aware that he had to paid attention before. The one day that he doesn’t check the calendar ends up being Valentine’s Day; I can completely assure you that he’s setting up an alarm for the next one, also adding to the reminder some present ideas that say: “you’re my crush,” but don’t scream it. When you leave, he stands so still you can mistake him for a statue; if statues could wag their tail, of course.

Savanaclaw is savage what a shock, right? These boys would not even let the other one stand next to their present. Sevens, they wouldn’t even let them breathe next to their present.

"I feel sorry for you. That's really all the Herbivore got you?"

"At least I will make sure to use it. I wonder how long it will take before that pendant disappears."

"What did you say?"

"I guess I will see you later. I don't want to be a part of this."

"Hey, come back!"

"We haven't even started on your present!"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, THIRD STOP: OCTAVINELLE

Octavinelle, as your following choice, felt like a secure place. You were almost sure you were going to find your friends in the blink of an eye, give them their gifts and head to the next dorm. Yet the variable you didn’t have into account was considering how empty and eerie the dorm appeared at first glance.

"Henchman?" Grim started.

"Yeah?" You answered, slowly walking towards the Mostro Lounge.

"Don't ya’ think there's something fishy going on today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Floyd and Jade aren't here."

And upon that remark, you stopped. Looking around to try to spot your usually welcome committee, you noted that Grim was correct. Jade and Floyd were nowhere to be found, slightly confusing you.

"Well, today must be a busy day at the Mostro Lounge. They are most likely working," you said, resuming your walk.

Although Grim didn’t seem to want to continue the walk, scared to be a victim of whatever evil scheme the eels were plotting.

You assured that you wouldn’t let anything happen to him on your guard, to which he responded by saying he didn’t need your protection, rambling about how you dared to think he wasn't strong enough to protect you— Ahem, to protect himself and you, until he suddenly stopped.

"Henchman," he started again.

"Yeah?" you answered a second time.

"I think there's someone behind us—"

Noticing two large shadows that covered yours, you both slowly turned around, encountering two identical faces that looked down on you with a sly smile, vocalizing:

"Shrimpy~!"

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Prefect."

Grim let out a high-pitched scream, hiding behind your legs due to the shock, unaware of the death stare that Floyd directed at him.

"Ah, Jade, Floyd. We were just talking about you," you said, sighing in relief upon listening to their characteristic voices.

"Wah~! Did you hear that, Jade? Shrimpy was looking for me~" Floyd exclaimed, to which his twin only chuckled.

"I heard that she was looking for both of us, in fact," and before his brother could whine in response, Jade added. "Why would that be, Prefect?"

"Before I answer to that, do you know where Azul is?" you asked, looking behind them in hopes that the octomerman would appear.

"Azul? Oh, that's right," Jade let out a small smile. "He must be looking for us."

"Eh~? But I don't want to go back!" Floyd whined, thinking about what he could do to avoid going to work again. "Oh!" He exclaimed, an imaginary light bulb appearing over his head. "I can hide behind you, right, Shrimpy~?"

"You can try, but I don't think it would do much," you responded, and just when he was about to do it, you heard a yell coming from the end of the hallway.

"Jade! Floyd!" Azul screamed, walking over to where you were. "Do I need to remind you that you are still working? If you continue—"

"Hello, Azul," you greeted, seeing how the businessman yelped due to the surprise, unaware that you were behind Jade. "Great timing, I was about to look after you."

"Prefect!" He exclaimed, unconsciously tidying himself up, trying to distract you from his earlier action. "And why did you want to see me?" He stuttered, cheeks tinted of a light pink.

"I'm sure you already know what day is today, so I'm just going to give you these," you briefly explained, handing all of them their respective gifts and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Valentine's...?" Floyd muttered, face brightening up due to the excitement. "Does this mean Shrimpy loves me~?" He boldly asked, trying to get a shy reaction out of you, all while Azul covered his face in embarrassment, making this scenario all the much more entertaining to Jade, who was lightly chucking.

Yet when all of this unfolded, you talked, saying something that took all three of them by surprise. “Of course, I love you all after all,” you replied with a bright and contagious smile; it was at that moment that Grim realised that if he didn't do anything about this soon, they wouldn't let you go, and he can't let that happen.

"Henchman! We have to get going! Is gonna take us forever to finish if we stay here!" 

You sighed at Grim’s impatient behavior, not really understanding where it was coming from. But he was right; your chocolates weren’t going to last a whole day outside, they just weren’t made for that kind of purpose.

"As you see, me and my new guardian have to get going, so I will see you later," you joked, being weakly dragged by your companion, biding them farewell (hoping that Floyd wasn’t going to carry you like a sack of potatoes, again).

Azul’s blueberry flavoured chocolate coins match his new octopus coin.

Azul didn't really care about Valentine's (and no, it’s not because he was made fun of constantly during this day, why would you think that? It was, please give this boy lots of hugs and support); the only reason keeps track of it is that he knows it's a very profitable holiday. And I said "didn't" because that was before he realised that he had a crush on you... Okay, maybe Jade made him aware, but he still realised it. He spent the last couple of months planning the perfect plan to confess to you or at least try to, but this wasn't on his schedule. He marked this situation as "very improbable," hence why he looks like he has a fever. Furthermore, he tries to dissimulate it since he doesn't want the twins to make fun of him (again), but it's too late. A flustered Azul is always going to be interesting to witness.

Jade’s chocolate shaped mushrooms (like the Meiji Kinoko Chocolate), match his new decorations for his terrariums.

Jade is sort of neutral about Valentine's. He's not one that usually gives gifts (he definitely gave Floyd some mushrooms as a Valentine’s gift, and you can tell he was not happy about it), but he has definitely received a couple of presents, which he usually doesn’t keep unless they're interesting enough. But, if he's being honest, he wouldn't throw away anything that you gift to him; most people would call it "simping", he calls it "courtesy." His first reaction is to smile upon receiving it, yet unlike most of his mannerisms (which he keeps very controlled), this was something that to the untrained eye would go unnoticed, yet his twin and his boss childhood friend know that there's a hint of genuine happiness in it.

Floyd’s sea salt caramel lego-shaped chocolates match his new eel bracelet with his name on it.

Unlike his brother, Floyd thinks Valentine's is a very interesting holiday. He considers it the “funniest” day just because he finds the rejected Valentine’s faces so amusing. One thing he has in common with Jade though, is that he doesn't keep most of the presents given to him, especially if he can't see the reaction of the person. So, to meet his expectations you have to: one, give it to him directly, and two, wait for the best. Fortunately, we're talking about you, so that’s good news for you. Although the bad news is that you only have two options now that you’ve given him something: run or face his clinginess. 

If you didn’t know who these students were, you wouldn’t be amused, but if you do, well, it certainly was strange seeing all three (especially Floyd) staying idle in the middle of the hallway just... Existing.

"Why are you standing there? Go back to work."

"Aren't you going with us, boss?"

"Yeah! That's really unfair!"

"I have some important things that I have to take care of."

"Really? How strange, I remember you said that you had some paperwork to do."

"Oh~ Jade caught you lying, Azul~"

"Just go back to work, and don't even think about following me."

"Do you want to follow him, Jade~?"

"Of course, Floyd."

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FOURTH STOP: SCARABIA

Since Scarabia was your next stop, you were a bit worried. Mainly because Scarabia’s weather, just like Savanaclaw, wasn’t the ideal for your chocolates to be in. Yet, something that kept your hopes high was your positivism, assuring yourself (in order to not panic) that you were going to find your friends rapidly.

"Henchman, don't ya' think we should hurry? I don't think those chocolates can stand this heat."

"I know, it’s starting to worry me," you responded, face changing from concern to determination. "But I think I know where they could be."

Grim tilted his head, as if asking: "What do you mean?"

"I called Kalim earlier to ask him about his and Jamil's plans. They don't stay in one place for long, so it was only to be sure."

"And where are they then?"

"Right here," you stated, standing in front of a big door: the one that contained all of Kalim's treasures.

You grabbed the handle, ready to open it when suddenly, the door pulled towards you. It collided with your forehead, making you lose your balance slightly, trying to not fall since it could make it worse.

"Prefect!" The Scarabia students exclaimed, worried and confused about what just happened. "Are you okay?!"

"It's okay, I'm okay," you reassured them, holding your head as a reflexive reaction.

"Henchman! Can you hear me?!" Grim yelled, making you wince slightly due to the headache. "How dare ya', pesky humans! She could have died!"

"I'm so sorry, Prefect! Do you need to go to the infirmary? Jamil and I can bring you there!" Kalim exclaimed; eyes full of concern out of fear of something severe happening to you.

"Don't worry, Kalim. I know it was an accident," you said, feeling much better now that they were starting to quiet down. “I’m sure it’s not going to leave a scar or something.”

"Prefect, are you completely sure? We don't have any problem accompanying you to the nurse," Jamil suggested, but you refused.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine," you said, crouching down, so you could look for their gifts. "Now onto the thing I wanted to talk about..." You handed them the presents and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's."

"Valentine's...?" Kalim asked, thinking about something for a moment before an imaginary light bulb appeared over his head. "Oh, that's right! We also have a present for you as well! Right, Jamil?"

Jamil didn't answer, seemingly lost for a few seconds until he snapped out of his trance. "Yeah, that's right," he answered, murmuring a little "thanks," loud enough for you to hear.

"It's nothing. I hope you like it, I tried to make them the best I could."

Before they could show you your gift, Grim had enough of this and decided that it was time to move on, practically dragging you outside Scarabia.

"Goodbye guys, maybe we can see each other later— Grim! Stop pulling me! I only have this pair of pants!"

Kalim and Jamil may be very different, but if they had one thing in common as of right now is that they were completely happy to receive such a heartfelt gift.

Kalim’s coconut chocolates match his new friendship bracelet.

Kalim has definitely received plenty of Valentine's chocolates and gifts in equal amounts, even if most of them came from his parents and his thirty siblings. All of this made Kalim believe that celebrating Valentine’s like that was very normal to be honest, it’s more of a lovely Halloween than most things, but that’s fine, it’s Kalim; at least, the platonic side of it. This could explain why it felt kind of odd when he received your gift, but don’t worry! It’s a good type of odd. He knows that he has a crush on you Jamil’s courtesy, so this gave him the slight hope that you might see him more than a friend one day. And even if not, he’s totally okay with it, since he will still be able of being your friend.

Jamil’s chili pepper chocolates match his new talking parrot plushie.

Jamil isn’t very fond of Valentine’s. It is not a surprise that he didn’t receive as many gifts as Kalim, but he never showed his discomfort to not anger his family; after all, he already knew that he just wasn’t made to give and receive something like that, or at least, that was his mentality until you and your adorable present came into the picture. He just thinks you’re a box full of surprises He had absolutely no idea that he was going to fall for you, but just like he never expected to like you, you surprised him with a gift. You gifted him something. MC, let me tell you that if he wasn’t head over heels for you, he now is.

Scarabia is by far the most normal one out the seven dorms. They’re happy, and that’s all. The difference is that one of them shows it and the other doesn’t.

“Did you see that, Jamil?! She said she made them herself!”

“Yes, Kalim, I heard it. You don’t have to yell”

“Oh, right, sorry!”

“...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIFTH STOP: POMEFIORE

Pomefiore, being the next one on your list, gave you hope. Hope that maybe your original plan will work, and that you would be able to leave quickly enough to continue the rest of your long journey.

But, as you already may have guessed, things can’t be that simple.

“How strange...” You muttered, walking away from the common room after finding it empty. “Where could they be?”

“Nyah! It’s gonna take us forever to find them!” Grim whined, already tired from all the searching. “Can’t we just leave the gifts at their doors?”

“I’m not going to do that, Grim,” you stated, intently searching for your friends. “The whole point of this was to hand them the presents personally, even if it takes me the whole day.” Believe me, MC. It is going to take you the whole day.

“But we can’t just expect them to appear out of nowhere!” He claimed, unaware of the towering figures that stood right behind him after voicing those words.

“Yes, that seems certainly impossible,” Vil said, scaring Grim to the point where he climbed to your arms, hissing at the student. “Oh, did I scare you?” He teased, a bit more playful than usual.

“For your information, ya’ didn’t scare me!” Your companion quickly retorted, and although he tried to come up with an excuse to fight back, you stepped in to prevent a petty argument—certainly a wise decision—.

“So, before Grim can start a discussion here, in the middle of the hallway. Again,” you called out, eyeing him, trying to make him understand the hint. “I would like to give you these.”

“Are these... Gifts?” Epel asked, unsure of why the sudden display of affection. “Why are ya’ giving us this...?”

“Epel, don’t be disrespectful,” Vil corrected, sighing upon seeing that his little apprentice apparently didn’t know what day it was. 

“You see, Monsieur Crabapple. Today is the magnifique holiday called Valentine’s Day!” Rook briefly clarified, proceeding to deliver a monologue embellished with fancy words, listing all the wonderful things that Valentine’s entailed. “How wonderful out of you, dear Trickster, to grace us with these detailed presents!”

The hunter approached you, taking your hands in his as he gazed into your eyes, seemingly aware of the looks he was receiving from his housewarden and dorm fellow.

It wasn’t until Vil coughed that Rook stopped, only chuckling slightly while leaving your hand, not wanting to infuriate his beautiful friend.

“They do seem very elaborate. So, I’m grateful for this present, dear potato,” he thanked, looking at Epel to remind him that he hadn’t thanked you yet.

“Oh! Thank you for these gifts, MC. I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to give you in return...” The boy apologized, making you sigh once again.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” You commented, amused at your friend’s sincere words. “I’m not doing this in exchange for gifts. This is a gift to thank you all for being amazing friends.”

Ouch. Collective friend-zoning. That must’ve hurt.

“Yet, we do have presents for you, ma chérie,” Rook voiced, not wanting you to go before you received their display of affection.

“Indeed. We don’t have them here, but—”

“No!” Grim interrupted, having enough of the whole conversation. “Henchman, it’s getting late and, we still have lots of gifts to deliver!” He said, trying to convince you to get out of Pomefiore before Vil and Rook’s charms trapped you there.

You turned to the students, doing an apologetic bow before explaining. “I’m sorry, he’s right. I can’t stay for much longer. But I appreciate the intention, and I hope to see you later— Grim! Why are you so impatient?!”

“We have to keep moving! So say goodbye to them already!” The little creature demanded, threatening to rip the hem on your pants.

“Okay, okay! Goodbye, guys! Maybe we can meet later!” Was the last thing they heard you say before disappearing behind a corner with your protective monster-cat.

And so, surprised and with rosy cheeks that weren’t part of their makeup, they headed towards the— Oh, it seems like they don’t remember anymore... You’re giving people amnesia, MC.

Vil's chocolate-covered berries match his new bouquet of violets.

Vil has a long history with Valentine’s Day; specifically the gift part of Valentine’s. This man right here has received countless gifts and cards from fans and people around him confessing their love in extravagant—and sometimes expensive—ways. He’s used to this by this point, but his balance point was broken the moment you decided to hand him that present. Dear potato, have you ever thought about being the partner of a renowned celebrity? No...? Well, would you like to? Because Vil takes this detail as your way of expressing your fondness for him. Sure, you said it was because he’s an ‘amazing friend’ (which he obviously is), but that doesn’t mean you can’t see him as more than a friend. After all, Vil’s patience is truly one of his virtues just don’t tell him you have a gift for Neige. You know, only if you want him to live a bit longer.

Rook’s mint chocolates match his new poetry book.

Oh dear, when I say no one at Night Raven College loves Valentine’s as much as Rook does, I’m being completely serious. We’re talking about a holiday that’s all about expressing love, and taking into account that Rook calls himself “le chasseur d’amore...” There’s not much left to piece together, is it. He is mesmerized by this gift; it doesn’t matter if you said it was to appreciate his friendship, he’s focusing on the fact that you, kind and wholehearted you, seemed to put so much effort to make this present that was for him and him only. Oh, beautiful Trickster; I hope you are prepared, for this dedicated hunter is going to be next at your feet expressing his admiration and appreciation for you in a very... ‘Rook manner,’ for the next couple of days... Or weeks. Maybe months, but it’s not like he didn’t do that from before, so that’s fine.

Epel’s chocolate-dipped apple rings match his new apple plushie (with an evil smile, may I add)

Epel isn’t really involved in Valentine’s. His experience with it consists of him occasionally receiving some gifts from his family and carving out some apples with Valentine’s elements on them. Being the only young boy in a village full of elderly people, we can assume that he never really got into touch with the romantic part of the holiday; at least, not until now. And I have to congratulate you, MC; you just made Epel’s face resemble an apple, and all because of your thoughtfulness. Now, does he think that having plushies is manly? No. But will he put your gift aside because of this? No. Not only because it will make you sad, but also because he assumes it wouldn’t be so bad to have an evil apple plushie in his room. You know, at least it’s evil, and that makes it a bit more manly. Sevens Epel, a manly apple-?

Pomefiore are just turning on the passive-aggressive mode. Nothing can stop these boys from feeling superior just because they received a personalized gift (which everyone got, but let’s not ruin their fantasy).

“Isn’t our belle Trickster so endearing. To take her precious time by making all of us these detailed gifts; ah, what a beautiful way to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Although yours doesn’t seem that detailed, Rook. Are ya’ happy with that pocket diary?”

“I could ask the same to you, Epel. Although I may say that plushie compliments you.”

“Quit that, please...”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Monsieur Crabapple! The magnifique shade of this plushie truly enhances your beauty!”

“I’m not going to ask you anything from today onwards...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SIXTH STOP: IGNIHYDE

Ignihyde had to be the easier dorm to “infiltrate” so far. The housewarden was known for being a programming genius, but also, and most important of all, for staying in his room.

It was a fool-proof plan. Entering Ignihyde, encountering Ortho along the way, and finally, greet Idia at his bedroom Nothing could go wrong.

And this may surprise you, but contrary to all the things that happened to you today, nothing went wrong. In fact, the list of events I just spelled did happen in that order.

After entering Ignihyde, you were greeted with the usual sight of an almost empty living room, saluting the few students that weren’t occupied with winning an intense game of Animal Crossing.

Subsequent to the first stage of your plan, you encountered the youngest Shroud brother while walking towards the oldest, seeing his cheerful face approach you with a welcoming voice.

“Hello, MC! What brings you here today?” Ortho said, instantly noting the large bag behind your bag. “And why are you carrying that bag? Are my brother and you going to study today?”

You giggled at his comment, shaking your head in refusal. “Not exactly. I’m here to gift Idia a Valentine’s present.” You explained, followed by asking if he was in his room.

Ortho stayed silent for a couple seconds, quickly searching for the holiday you just mentioned, and when he knew what it was about... Let’s just say that his expectations of you confessing to Idia (because honestly, at this point he knows his brother isn’t going to, for now, at least) were rising like the sky-high.

“Of course! My brother will be very happy to see you and to receive your awesome present, MC!” The little one answered, taking you by your hand to guide you to Idia’s room.

As soon as he arrived, Ortho knocked on the door, patiently waiting for his brother’s response.

“What is it, Ortho?” Idia asked, lazily opening the door, thinking that Ortho had come up with another plan to hang out with you. Jokes on him, no plan was needed, as you were right in front of him, a wide smile plastered over your face. “MC—!” He blurted out, surprised to see you.

“Hello, Idia,” you exclaimed, assuming that it would be best if you explained the meaning behind your visit. “I know you may be busy, and I don’t intend to take much of your time. I just wanted to give you this,” and thus you gifted the blue haired boy a small blue box, alongside a translucent bag of chocolates.

“Huh...? W-why are you giving me this...?” The boy questioned, only to be smacked with a reality check by remembering all the special side quests he completed regarding the love and friendship’s special day. “Oh. OH—”

In the blink of an eye his hair goes from blue to a bright pink, not giving you enough time to comment about it since he shuts the door just as fast, too embarrassed to pronounce a word other than a small: “thank you.”

“Brother! Are you okay? Your heart rate is going extremely fast!” Ortho voiced, not really helping Idia’s situation don’t tell him that, he’ll get sad.

“Don’t worry, Ortho. I’m pretty sure Idia’s okay. He must’ve been taken aback, that’s all.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely fine and we should definitely go to deliver these last presents,” Grim suggested, already making his way back to the mirror chamber.

“Not so fast, Grim. I have yet to give Ortho his gift.” The mentioned raised an eyebrow, certainly not expecting that.

“A gift? For me?” He uttered while moving his head to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah, for you,” you reiterated, handing him a little box—no chocolates this time because, well, he’s a robot—. “I hope you like it. You can place them wherever you want, and they also got little chains in case you want to bring them with you.”

He stares at the keychains, looking at the similar characteristics between him, his brother, Grim and you; and with a bright smiley face, he exclaims: “thank you, MC! I will make sure to take great care of these!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We have to keep going, if you don’t mind.”

“Goodbye, Ortho. And goodbye, Idia! Hope you like your present too!” You voiced, unsure if he heard you or not.

Oh, and indeed he heard you, it’s just that he’s a little too occupied trying to not die from cuteness overload— Never mind, he just short-circuited.

Idia’s peanut butter chocolates match his new videogame.

Taking into account his past, we can safely say that Idia didn’t really have a lot of experience with Valentine’s, aside from the games, that’s for sure. He never gave or received any chocolates nor gifts, and you know what? He was fine with that; just enjoying his games and not worrying about love and romance at least irl, because this man proclaims himself as an expert when it comes to ships in manga and video games. He was fine, and now he isn’t. His mind is flooded with too many questions, like: why on earth would you give him anything? Is it because of social etiquette or because you wanted to? How did you get your hands on this game? Should he take this as a sign to finally confess his undeniable crush on you—? Okay, he may have gone a little too far with that one. But don’t worry! He is going to do it, it’s just that it might take a bit of time. He’s absolutely going to gift you something back, don’t doubt it. But you may want to wait after the short-circuit passes.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SEVENTH AND FINAL STOP: DIASOMNIA

Now, you knew that Diasomnia was going to be a tough one. Firstly, you were sure there was going to be a lot of shouting (Sebek’s courtesy), followed by Lilia, and possibly Malleus’ teasing. Silver was the only one that didn’t really do much apart from being the most normal being out of the four that’s a compliment, Silver. You make MC’s life a bit easier.

“Okay, Grim,” you started, happy upon seeing that this was the last location. “After this, we can go back to Ramshackle and eat the dinner you were so impatient for. Isn’t that exciting?”

No response.

“Well, I know you’re tired, but I have to thank you for accompanying me today. Even if you were a bit rude and odd, it really means a lot that—” 

“The Great Grim is going to fight all of you...!” He interrupted, mumbling incoherent things while you looked at his sleeping face, not sure when or how he fell asleep.

“I should have guessed that a whole day of walking may end up in this,” you muttered, carefully lifting him up so he could rest in your shoulders, trying to accommodate him the best you could as you made your way towards the Witch of Thorns’ dorm.

If felt strange having Grim by your side and not hearing him chit-chat with his characteristic tone, after all, it’s not like Grim and silence usually got along unless he was sleeping or reprimanded.

Feeling a bit bored, you started to hum softly, slowly strolling to find the garden, where you thought your friends might be.

It didn’t take long for you to encounter them, and they, likewise, didn’t take long to notice you were there. 

Malleus approached you first, a smile spreading across his face upon seeing you. “How delightful it is to see you, Child of Man. What brings you here today?” He asked, unsuspecting of the surprise you’ve prepared for all of them.

“Oh. Don’t tell me the rumors are true,” Lilia voiced, floating behind you to take a peek inside your bag. It seemed like him, unlike the rest of the dorm, was aware of your intentions.

“What rumors...?” You questioned, keeping him from grabbing one of the small boxes sitting at the bottom of the bag. 

He blinked in surprise, followed by a giggle after realising that you had no idea what was being said behind your back. “I wouldn’t like to ruin the surprise. It’s something you may want to express yourself, am I right?”

“Master Lilia! What do you mean by that?” Sebek shouted, prompting you to shush him quickly so Grim wouldn’t wake up. “You dare to quiet me down, human—!”

“Sebek,” Silver intervened, noticing the sleeping being on your shoulders, and thus he pointed it for the green haired boy to see.

“I’m sorry for shushing you, Sebek. It’s just that Grim is asleep and I don’t want to wake him up,” you apologized, hoping that your crocodile friend would try to lower his voice at least a little.

“O-okay, human. But—!” He paused briefly, trying to not raise his voice. “I’m not doing it because of your orders.”

You sighed, thankful for his thoughtfulness, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Malleus coughed as he eyed his guardian’s red face, wanting to continue the original topic. “Say, Child of Man. You were about to tell us the meaning behind your visit.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you replied, cautiously taking the four remaining gifts to give them to the students. “I wanted to give you something as a Valentine’s Day present. So, I hope you like these details,” you stated, sighing after handing out the gifts, glad that this would be the last parade.

“My, my. I didn’t expect to receive a Valentine’s Day gift until a couple more of years,” Lilia muttered, seemingly happy to see his gift. 

Silver stood silently for a few seconds, quickly realising that he had to thank you, softly expressing his gratitude over your recent action.

Sebek felt in the obligation to ask the purpose of this unexpected act, but since he wasn’t able didn’t want to express it his usual way, he recurred to mumble a small ‘thank you,’ taking you by surprise.

And the last and most dramatic reaction of all had to be given to Malleus. Just as we’ve seen before, he tends to... Overreact a little when it comes to small details like this one; so, in truly dragon-fae fashion, he kneeled before you, took your hand and prepared to say the words he’s been wanting to say for a long time now.

Lilia, however, had to step in, immediately clarifying how Valentine’s Day is also a day express your love for your friends. Less to say that if Malleus had his dragon ears, they would be flopped down like a puppy.

“Well. It seems that your wonderful visit has brought new moments to reminisce about,” the old fae said, trying his best to ease the situation. “We are very grateful for what you’ve gifted us today.”

“I’m happy to see that you’ve liked them,” you voiced, chuckling a bit after witnessing their reactions. “And, although I can’t really stay for much longer, I enjoyed this moment with you.”

You were about to head out after biding them goodbye, only to be stopped by Malleus, who was still a little gloomy for the news he just received. “Do you really have to go now, Child of Man?”

“Unfortunately, I do. It’s already late and Grim might get mad at me if he finds out that he’s not at Ramshackle when he wakes up,” you calmly explained, softly caressing his cheek as you walked away, promising him that you would have more time to spend together tomorrow.

You better keep that promise, MC. Malleus is already too dejected to suffer another deception.

Malleus’ gelato truffles match his new gargoyle keychain.

Malleus’ knows what Valentine’s is, but his knowledge about it is limited to the romantic part of it. Hence why he is about to pursue you, ready to propose, again, and take you to his castle so that you can live a long and happy life together; until Lilia explained him the other side of the holiday, disappointing the dragon fae. Well, excuse him, Lilia, but how was he supposed to know that humans also celebrate their friendship during Valentine’s. He’s frustrated, but also enchanted  in a nutshell, he’s a mess right now. Yes, he’s still quite sad that this wasn’t a confession and that he may have to wait a bit of time before making a move on you, but nonetheless, you just expressed that you care and appreciate him, and that, at least for now, was enough for him.

Lilia’s green tea chocolates match his new bouquet of black and fuchsia roses.

Lilia has witnessed and experienced many Valentine’s days during his life. He probably has enough information to fill an entire encyclopedia about it, maybe including some of his stories as a bonus. Having lived for so long, Lilia finds enjoyment in how humans celebrate their holidays; and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He reminisces about his past lovers and confidants, basking in the subtle aroma of his recently acquired bouquet while thinking about all the memories he made along the way. This may sound like something an old man would say, but Lilia truly relishes in the fleeting moments that life graces him with; he most definitely takes delight in spending those moments with you, happy to see that you also enjoy his presence.

Silver’s cashew chocolates match his new deer plushie.

Silver’s pretty much indifferent towards Valentine’s. He doesn’t have time to celebrate these kinds of festivities when he has to make sure his young master isn’t in any danger. But he guesses that once a while won’t hurt... Malleus and Lilia are within his sight, Sebek is right next to him, and he doesn’t have the will to reject your gift. After all, who is he to decline such a selfless act? He gives you a warm smile as his cheeks turn into a slight shade of pink, uttering grateful words until he was too sleepy to continue the conversation. Just as he was slowly falling asleep, he unconsciously hugged his new stuffed plushie, unaware of the future teasing his father would carry out. Well, seeing the bright side of it though: he had an splendid nap and you had another sleeping beauty Silver picture. A win-win situation indeed.

Sebek’s lemon caramel chocolates match his new crocodile and dragon mug.

Sebek wasn’t and still isn’t fond of Valentine’s Day. In fact, he’s not fond of almost any of the holidays that you, mere humans, like to celebrate. However, even if he states that he doesn’t care about your gift and complaints about your display of affection towards his young master, Sebek ends up liking you a little bit more than usual. Don’t be mistaken, human! It’s not because of the cute action you just confer upon him, why would you even think that? He just thinks that a gift like this can be very useful, that’s all! He’s not smitten by your sweet smile, kind and thoughtful self, or the way your eyes shine when you’re happy... Wait, what was he saying? Oh, of course! He’s definitely not smitten by any of those things I just mentioned, so don’t you dare to think that after he gifts you your Valentine’s gift. What? It’s called being polite, you know?

Diasomnia might be the only dorm that doesn’t take down the gifts from the other students. Most likely because they were all a happy and beloved family... And also due to them thinking very highly of their presents. But is something that most people have done at this point, so the first part still stands.

“How come I didn’t know about this...”

“Oh, don’t worry, my prince! For the Prefect most certainly did this with love and effort for all of us!”

“It certainly seems that human put so much care into these...”

“What are you mumbling, Sebek?”

“N-nothing!”

“That’s right. If I gift Child of Man a present deserving of her, I can partake in this celebration with her.”

“What an enlivening idea! This makes the perfect occasion to try out that cookie recipe I got from Jade, kee hee~”

“Father, please don’t.”

INITIAL STOP: RAMSHACKLE

The wood of the door creaking was the only sound that could be heard upon returning to your dorm. Being accustomed to it, you didn’t think of it as you left Grim on the couch, sitting next to him while watching his peaceful face, far away in dreamland.

“Aww, isn’t he the cutest when he isn’t awake?” Brawley commented, appearing out of nowhere as he floated around the little creature.

“So, tell us, MC. How did you Valentine’s journey go?” Conrad asked, anticipating an answer that never came. “MC?”

When the ghosts turned to look at you, all they found was your sleeping form, who couldn’t resist the tiredness after a whole day of walking and searching.

“Poor thing. She must be so exhausted,” Arthur said, dragging a blanket to shield you from the cold weather. “I can’t believe she really took it upon herself to prepare all of those gifts.”

“Right? I haven’t seen anyone so determined to prepare so many boxes and chocolates without expecting something in return,” Brawley added, trying his best to sneak a pillow under your head.

“Well, she may not expect anything in return, but I’m almost completely sure those boys are going to return the favor,” Conrad voiced, placing Grim in a more comfortable spot close to you, careful to not wake him up.

After that, your ghost fellows decided to float around for a bit, talking amongst themselves to guess what the gifts your friends had for you might be, also questioning if they were also thinking of competing not only for your attention, but for your love as well.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

[ceoofglytchell]

Gilded Cage

Summary: After word of Aegon’s son’s death reaches you, you personally fly to King’s Landing yourself to plead for mercy and to end the senseless bloodshed of the war. Little did you know that once you arrive and come face to face with your uncles, they were not willing to let you leave again. They have always been enamored with you, their sweet little niece, and now they finally have you in their clutches, not willing to let go of you a second time.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Word count: 2995 words

Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong features, Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's second child, brief angst, past friends to enemies to lovers, fluff (kinda), brief nudity, brief kinda dubious consent but also not really (just touches and kisses), the slightest briefest allusions to smut, aegon being a bit of an ass, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I am back! As always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language 💛

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How had it come to this?

You asked yourself this question over and over again as you sat in the warm water of the bathtub, the smell of various oils enveloping you, while Prince Aemond knelt by your side, gently washing your back with one hand, while his other hand stroked through your long brown hair that marked you as one of Rhaenyra Targaryen's bastards.

Exactly three days ago, you had flown in haste to King's Landing on the back of your dragon in the early hours of the morning after a raven had arrived on Dragonstone, bringing hearsay of a gruesome crime in which two men had entered the Red Keep and murdered the king's son in the most horrific manner. Rumor had it that these men had been sent by your mother as revenge for the murder of your younger brother Lucerys, but that was not true. It was not her, she would never do that - at least that was what you chose to believe. You hadn't waited long enough to listen to any explanations.

In the dragon pit you were immediately met by Ser Criston Cole, the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who had escorted you back to the castle in silence and in chains. The castle where you had grown up and in whose halls you had once felt safe and happy was still in a state of chaos and you had heard Aegon's angry shouting on the way to the council chamber. Every step had been difficult and then he had suddenly stormed out of the chamber and your face had been the first thing he saw, his own face wet with tears.

You didn't hold it against him that he had immediately grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the nearest wall, demanding answers that you could not give him. You had come to beg for forgiveness, not to incur the king's wrath. But what exactly had you expected? He would never have welcomed you with open arms - just like your mother would not have welcomed any of them.

You didn't hold it against Aegon for shouting at you, cursing you, demanding that you be locked up in the dungeons as a traitor to the crown, after all he had just lost his three year old son. His son, whom you had only recently met and you had immediately understood why he loved that little boy so much. He was now a grieving father and now you had to serve as his scapegoat - which you accepted, since you had foolishly put yourself in that position.

You hadn't expected to run into Aemond on your way to the dungeons, though, while Cole had held your arm so tightly that you could still see a bruise on your delicate skin. The one-eyed prince had been the one who had taken your other arm, gently, and then led you in the other direction, away from the dungeons and away from the darkness that had nearly swallowed you up, while Ser Criston disappeared again to continue his own duties.

Your closest companion during your childhood, your first love, had come to save you, but you had quickly learned that instead of saving you, he had put you in a cage. One that you could no longer escape from, since you were all alone in these halls. And the king was still raging.

Aegon had now hanged the ratcatchers instead of you, and from what you had heard, his grandfather the Hand had not been very pleased with this decision, since only a few hours earlier a funeral march had been held for the young prince, with the queens being forced to attend.

You hadn't attended the funeral, of course, because you were just another prisoner of the Greens, but instead of chains, you were kept in a gilded cage, metaphorically speaking. Your cage was your old chambers and your captor was the prince who had murdered your brother, and that man was treating you with such gentleness right now that you couldn't believe he was even capable of killing, but he was. The sword he was carrying, which stood on the wall opposite the tub, was like a silent threat, a warning sign for you to behave and not step out of line. You only had his sympathy as long as you kept quiet and let him do whatever he wanted.

It was better for you and for everyone involved.

Yesterday he had tried to talk to you, but since you didn't answer, he apparently decided to stay quiet this evening so it would be easier for him and for you. He probably thought that this way you could pretend he was someone dear to you instead of your childhood friend who ended up plunging the kingdom into war. But he didn't know that you were actually thinking about him the whole time.

The way his hand slid down your spine, the way he ran his other hand through your hair, twirling a few strands around his long fingers, and the way his warm breath brushed against your neck. It also didn't help that you weren't wearing any clothes, while he was still wrapped in his leathers, a sign that he hadn't let you close to him and back into his heart yet, but it was the same with you. It didn't mean much to you that you were bare and vulnerable, because your silent resistance consisted of not saying a word, not even looking at him and certainly not giving him the smile that had always comforted him in your childhood.

"Come, the water is getting cold," he spoke suddenly into the silence of the chambers, where the only other sound was the gentle flickering of the candles that stood around, as they gave you warmth and security. You had to thank the servants for lighting them for you in the first place, because the young king probably still wanted the opposite if he hadn't calmed down yet.

The one-eyed prince gently grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the spacious bathtub, whereupon, as soon as your feet touched the floor again and small drops of water hit the cold stone, he wrapped you in a light robe made of golden silk so as not to tempt him.

You were just tying the soft robe around your waist when suddenly the door opened and a very sad and very drunk looking Aegon stumbled into the darkly lit rooms, a full cup of wine in his hand. He straightened his stature when he saw the two of you and blinked in surprise, a small laugh escaping him, as he had not expected to find his younger brother here while you stood next to him, wearing nothing but a robe and your skin and hair still wet.

Aemond the Fierce, indeed.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Aegon, letting the heavy wooden doors slam shut behind him, shutting out the world and everything else.

"The princess was just going to bed," Aemond explained on your behalf as he led you a few steps away from the bathtub and towards your bed. The sun had not even fully set yet and he was already about to send you to bed. You usually only slipped under the covers late at night, as you were always able to concentrate better in the late hours - a night owl instead of a dragon.

"What, now?" He looked at you both in confusion and took another sip from his cup, showing no reaction to the strong wine. He had always grimaced back then, you remembered well. He was also the first person to ever hold a cup of wine to your lips.

"She is tired."

"She seems very awake to me."

"She needs to sleep."

"Can she not speak for herself?"

You looked down stubbornly at the floor, not looking at your eldest uncle, who had robbed your mother of her throne, or your brother's murderer, because you didn't know how to behave around them, as both of them still had a reason to wish you harm. Aemond because of the past and as a power play and Aegon because of the murder of Jaehaerys, because nobody knew exactly who had sent the murderers.

"You know her, of course she can. She just does not want to." Aemond said and placed a finger under your chin and pushed it up slightly so that you were forced to look up at him and look into his one amethyst-colored eye.

"Perhaps we should make her?" Aegon suggested and came to stand beside the pair of you, almost falling over the edge of the bathtub, which thankfully didn't happen, even though it would have elicited a good laugh from you.

"You won't touch her."

One sentence. From now on, this one sentence would make up the very bones of the relationship between you and it had all started when he spoke it through gritted teeth with a slightly frustrated undertone, surprising you and his brother.

"Why? Look how lovely she is, I don't know how long I can resist, brother." Aegon reached out his hand to stroke your soft, rosy cheek, but Aemond was faster and grabbed his wrist, which he held tightly and looked at the older brother with such a piercing gaze that for a moment you feared that you were about to witness another act of kinslaying.

Aegon blinked in a mixture of confusion and shock, as he had never believed his little brother would ever turn against him like that. Especially not when it was because of a woman, but he had apparently always been sensitive about that topic. Had he ever shared a bed with anyone other than the madam?

"Careful now. I am your king."

Aemond tilted his head, his long silver hair falling over one shoulder and a small grin pulling the corners of his mouth upward, but it seemed more mocking than kindhearted. "And am I not your best sword? Do I not deserve a reward for my loyal service to the crown?"

You. You were the reward he spoke of, and both you and Aegon recognized that the moment the words left his mouth. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open slightly, because the last thing you expected was that your uncle would ever show you such affection again, although you doubted that it was actually true affection, but rather a darker feeling - possessiveness.

"I wanted to claim her as my prize of war. In exchange for your lost son, the Whore of Dragonstone loses her only daughter."

A small, barely perceptible scoff left your lips at the title Aemond gave your mother, but to your regret, the two men had heard you very well and both of them wanted to hear more from you. Your soft, melodic voice, your sweet laugh, your soft sighs... They both wanted more.

"What? Is that not a fitting name for your mother, sweetling?" Aegon provoked and you could swear that one of your hands clenched into a fist, ready to teach him a lesson that he would remember even in months to come, but you didn't. A part of you still felt sorry for him and you knew that on the one hand he was drunk but on the other hand he was still grieving, but in his own way, which was not particularly healthy.

Aemond let go of his wrist and instead placed both of his hands on your shoulders, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't run away and as if he wanted to show you again who had the upper hand here.

"How about Bitch Queen of Bastards?"

Your hand shot forward, but before it could hit his pale cheek, your other uncle had already grabbed your arm, causing you to growl in frustration.

"Ah, ah, ah, I could have you executed for trying to hit your king, dove."

"Bastard." You insulted him as you tried to free your arm from Aemond's grip, but the one-eyed prince didn't let go, not even for a moment. The brothers might have their differences, but when necessary, they clearly stuck together and protected each other. Despite all of this, their relationship was tainted by the jokes Aegon had made during their childhood, and Aemond would probably never forget that. You could still remember the joke with the pig and how you had consoled him afterward. However, there had also been a few moments when you had held the older prince - now king - tightly in your arms while he buried his tear-streaked face in your brown curls.

Even then, both brothers had been very dear to you, and now that you were all grown up, you no longer knew what your heart wanted, while your mind screamed at you to never let them get close to you again.

"He is a bastard? Do you speak like that to your brothers as well, little one?" Aemond whispered, his warm breath brushing against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and your heart leaping in your chest.

"Idiot." You spat over your shoulder, causing the man behind you to gently shake his head, while a quiet chuckle escaped him that a part of you wanted to hear again and again and again so that you could engrave it in your memories.

"What happened to our sweet little niece? I hardly recognize her, brother, do you?"

When had Aegon gotten so close to you? You could feel Aegon and Aemond's breath on your skin and feel the warmth of their bodies transfer to yours. The feeling was intoxicating and you had to make an effort not to do something you would surely regret later.

"You have to look into her eyes. There you will see the ghost of her," murmured Aemond, leaning his head against yours and pressing his sharp nose against your hair, inhaling your scent to remind him later, when he would be alone in his chambers and nothing but the memory of you would plague his every thought as it had been for the past few years, and would probably never change.

Aegon took his brother's suggestion to heart and looked down into your dark doe-like eyes, but all he saw was silent defiance and a spark of something else he would love to taste - a forbidden fruit just waiting to be consumed by him.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

"Oh, fuck it," with those words he leaned towards you and pressed his lips against yours, kissing you as if it were the only and last time he would ever have the opportunity to.

The sight of his fool of a brother kissing your lips ignited a fire in the kinslayer and he immediately pushed the king away from you and stood between your smaller frame and him, his hands clenched into fists and his one eye glaring daggers at the other man.

"How dare you taste her before I do? We had an agreement!”

Aegon laughed heartily as you stared at your uncle’s back, breathing heavily, not understanding what was happening. Three days ago he had wanted to lock you in the dungeons and now he was kissing you like his life depended on it.

“Our agreement was that you could have her first, but we never discussed kissing. I allowed myself that honor.”

“One more word-”

Before Aemond could take another step toward his older brother, you grabbed his hand, surprising yourself and him, as well as the king, who reached for his cup again to calm his nerves. The prince looked back at you, his one eye wide and his cheeks flushed, and you had to stop yourself from jumping into his arms and kissing him like Aegon had just kissed you, and then you would kiss the other brother again, and then over and over again, until they were all sated.

"Don't hurt him, uncle. You can have me." You didn't know what had possessed you to say that, but you couldn't change it now anyway. You had awakened the dragon, and he probably wouldn't be satisfied with simply looking at you anymore.

You loved your mother, but your two uncles had long since captured your heart, and they too seemed to be completely infatuated with you, their sweet little niece, but you couldn't complain.

"And what about me? Will I be allowed to have you too? At least once?" asked Aegon, placing his now empty wine cup on the dresser next to him, because he would choose you over alcohol any single day. You were like the sun that lit up the sky, his personal sun, even though a few days ago he had feared for a moment that you had broken his heart and taken his boy from him, but it was brought to him recently that you had absolutely nothing to do with it, whereupon a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"You will have to learn to share."

Your words caused the two of them to look at each other for a long moment before Aemond let out a long sigh and a wide grin formed on Aegon's face.

The moment both brothers pulled you close and began to kiss both sides of your neck, you knew that this was going to be a long night and that the conflict in your heart would only get worse, because if you were faced with the choice, who would you choose in the end - your mother or the men you loved?

Who would it be when the war would be unstoppable and more blood would be shed? You had no answer to that, but what you knew for sure was that you could never go back to who you once were. You were theirs now and they were yours. Forever.

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[strawberrygummiess]

easy.

idia shroud x gender neutral!reader 2.4k words cross posted on ao3 "Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products. At least you could admire him from afar."

You worked very hard for your relationship with Idia. Slowly but surely getting closer to him by sneakily probing Ortho and Azul out of any information they would give you (of course, in Azul’s case, not without a price). And it had all culminated in a budding friendship where he could barely stand to look you in the eye during a conversation, but he at least was happy to play Blockcraft with youoccasionally.

Baby steps, you supposed.

You knew Idia loved Sled Over Heels before he mentioned it to the group so while you knew his interest was piqued by Epel’s pitch to Sebek, you were pleasantly surprised to see him so excited to see him voluntell (or maybe volundemand was more appropriate) to join Epel on his homecoming trip. It was a win-win for you, seeing a brand-new city and hanging out with your crush at arguably the most romantic time of the year.

It was too bad fate was determined to make your trip to Harveston the most un-romantic, miserable weekend ever. You were here with Epel and his sledding team, freezing your butt off in Harveston. Back in your world, the cold hadn’t bothered you too badly, but the chill in Harveston was unlike anything you had experienced before. Even with the thick coat on, the bite of the winter wind still gave you full-bodied shivers. You had never been so grateful for Grim’s higher-than-average body temperature, gripping him tightly to your chest whenever he misbehaved, or you were just too cold to deal with the outside air. Which, to his dismay, was frequent.

On top of the cold, the competition took up much more of Idia’s free time than you anticipated. You weren’t a stranger to the boys’ competitive streak, having seen them all display it throughout your time at Night Raven College but, the introduction of the Royal Sword Academy’s participation in the competition kicked the team into high gear.

Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products.

At least you could admire Idia from afar. You really liked his new braid.

When Epel frantically gathered the team after practice, Grim struggled in your hold. Keeping him still for this long was challenging, and he was getting tired of being cooped up in your arms.

“Let me go, henchman!” Grim grumbled, still squirming. “I’m starving!”

“Just wait- I’ll put you down when we start walking towards town, okay? Besides, you’re warm,”

Grim wiggles again, before finally breaking free. He gives you a smug look before prancing ahead of everyone, and then taking off into a full sprint towards town, yelling about smelling something tasty! Sebek and Jade begin to chase after him. You watch as the scene quickly descends into chaos.

“Ugh! What a mess. Maybe you should keep that thing on a leash,” In his frustration, you hear Epel’s twang, words strongly laced with Southern animosity. You grimace in embarrassment, quickly apologizing for Grim’s behavior. You glance at Idia, who’s staring off in the direction they ran in, completely indifferent to you standing next to him.

Great, you’ve annoyed him into silence.

You’re sulking the entire way back to town, watching Idia from behind while Epel yaps about the competition and the “Welcome Feast,” You’re too busy trying to figure out ways to salvage your “romantic” getaway to listen.

You needed to find time to corner him into a conversation. Of course, you needed to be careful that you weren’t too enthusiastic, or else you would scare him. But you can’t be nonchalant in case you bore him. And you had to be topical, but not too on the nose about the conversation, so mentioning Sled Over Heels seems safe enough-

You run into Idia’s back. You squeak out an apology, moving around him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,”

“Duh,” He grins, and you feel your body relax (you didn’t even realize you tensed in anticipation… this crush of yours was just terrible) after seeing he wasn’t annoyed. “Off in sla-la land, huh?”

“…Sla-la land?”

“Um, yeah, like, sledding,”

It was neither clever nor funny. It was entirely endearing to you, though.

You go to respond, but you see Grim sneak past your peripheral, and you know scolding him is more important than trying to salvage the conversation with Idia.

-

Once you’ve finally settled on a team name (you can’t help but sulk a bit that no one thought “Granny Felmier” was clever; a product of being from different universes), you join the rest of the town at the Welcome Feast.

It’s lively and warm, and you enjoy stuffing your face with different foods after freezing in the cold. Grim, for once, is behaving himself, giving you time to finally relax without keeping a watchful eye. Luckily, this allows you to think about your approach to Idia. You've noticed he settled into an opposite corner, shrunk down as small as possible. Social settings were antithetical to Idia’s entire demeanor, and it was obvious to anyone who looked in his direction that he was incredibly uncomfortable with the size of the party. You thought about approaching him, the conversation topics from before floating through your mind. Hopefully, he wouldn’t shut down before you even opened your mouth. He emanated an “don’t approach, don’t converse,” aura, brooding in the corner of the room. Maybe you could ask about practice or pretend to devise a strategy for them to use in the real race.

“Hey, Prefect,” Epel taps you on the shoulder. “Do you mind taking a bowl of fruktsoppa Idia? I don’t think he’s moved from that spot since we got here, and besides, I think he likes you best,”

You’ve never been so grateful for Epel in your life.

You grab the bowl and practically prance to Idia, head full from the compliment. He looks up at you, relief flooding his features once he realizes it’s you. Or when he realizes you brought him food. Either way, he looks happy. And pretty. So, so pretty.

“Hey, uh, I brought you some soup,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward. All the confidence you had while approaching him is out the window. “It’s fruit soup. I don’t know how to pronounce it like Epel did.”

“Is it… cold?”

“Soup typically isn’t cold to begin with,” You sit next to him, careful not to spill the bowl on you or him. You set it on the table and begin to shake your hands. “It was burning my fingers actually,”

Despite your warning, he takes a spoonful of fruktsoppa and gulps it down quickly.

“LOL,” you always loved how he pronounced the text-speech. “This is barely lukewarm. But it‘s good, thanks,”

You quickly say something before he gets too comfortable eating in silence.

“So, um,” You try to remember any of the topics you were supposed to talk to him about.

“How are… sports?”

Your question shocks a laugh out of him. He sputters out his soup as he devolves into a series of giggles.

“How are sports? What are you, a stereotypical sitcom nerd? Cri-i-i-inge!”

“Pot meet kettle! You’re only competing because of your favorite anime,”

“Sled Over Heels is a valid reason to compete. It’s the best sports anime to exist! Totally not cringe,”

You shake your head and giggle. It’s very cringey, but you’re charmed by it. You watch him take another bite of the soup, propping your head up in your hand as you stare at him. His coat is perfectly oversized, a welcome change from his usual hoodie. Plus, his hat and new hairdo do wonders for his face; something you barely see. While you poked fun at him for joining the group for an anime, you were happy he was here. You benefitted from it more than he ever knew.

“…I feel like the protagonist of a bizarro weirdo shoujo anime right now.”

“What?” You can’t control your voice. If you weren’t so focused on the surge of embarrassment coursing through your body, you’d notice the boys laughing at your outburst. Instead, you were focused on trying not to look guilty. You were probably failing.

“Look at you! You’re drooling all over the table, like some incel shut-in after he maxed out his love-bar in his otome.” His grin is splitting his face right now.

You cannot believe you're getting bullied by him right now. You cannot believe he’s right.

You can’t think of a clever retort, and you can’t even imagine denying the fact. You just try to avoid his eyes while hoping you’ll get cold enough to get rid of your flush. You’ve been intolerant of the cold the entire trip, but you start to think that if you ran outside without a coat, your body would be so hot that the snow would melt under your feet as you walked. You wonder if you’ve been this obvious the entire time and he was just being polite.

“Lawl, nothing to say because you were caught right? You’ve always been a weirdo,”

Idia starts giggling again, trying to keep his hair out of sight. If you catch the pink in his hair, you’ll find some ammo against him. Right now, he’s relishing someone being more pathetic than him.

It’s okay, he’s charmed by it.

“I guess it takes one to know one,” You mumble, utterly defeated. You chose to ignore his retort; and stand, claiming Grim has been quiet for too long.

At first, Idia thinks nothing of it. It was weird for you to stare at him. Him. But then, his mind began to race.Was there something on his face? Was he just that weird-looking? Were you only hanging out with him out of sympathy? He knew you were out of his league, but he always thought you were into it- at least a little bit. Idia glanced at you, watching you sit with Grim, petting his head absentmindedly while he devoured slice after slice of smörgåstårta. He’d rather not confront what it meant for you to leave so abruptly. Maybe he was wrong about your feelings to begin with. Idia sighs and puts his head in his hands. He would be the person to mess everything up.

-

After embarrassing yourself with Idia the night before, you tried to find solace in the rest of the team. The boys, however, were happy to humble you further.  To be (playfully) bullied by your crush was one thing, but to be the butt of Sebek’s “you’re obsessed” jokes felt extra humiliating (although, you had to extend your thanks to Epel once more, for calling the kettle black). After everything, you wanted the race to come to an uninteresting finish. You weren’t necessarily advocating for them to lose, but you were hoping there would be no more opportunities to be humiliated. However, it seemed they had other plans and showed determination in a way you had never seen before.

Team sports were usually a disaster for Night Raven College students, but now you were convinced they had a genuine chance of winning first place.

Once the team reached the pitstop, you couldn’t help but be excited by their performance. Despite a tear in Sebek’s plushie, they were making exceptional time. You joined Granny Marja in congratulating them; passing out their snacks while she reinforced the stitching on Sebek’s plushie.

A twinge of embarrassment pangs through your stomach as you hand Idia his sandwich, your hands accidentally brushing. You couldn’t even feel his hands through the thick gloves you both were wearing, but it still felt strangely intimate.

“You guys are doing great. I expect you to win, okay?”

“Yeah… thanks,”

You both stand awkwardly for a second.

Your mind is racing, and your heart is beating wildly. The rest of the team is preparing their sleds for the second leg of the competition, but Idia is still standing in front of you, tightly gripping his sandwich like he’s waiting for you to say something. Or like he’s psyching himself to say something to you.

A rogue thought flies through your brain. You should kiss him. No, you probably shouldn’t. You couldn’t. He would be so flustered he’d lose the competition. It was tempting, but you couldn’t.

“Idia!? Are you ready to go?” Epel calls. “We can’t let those RSA punks beat us!”

Idia glances at them and begins to shuffle his feet. He keeps hoping you’ll make the final push. He knows he won’t.

He makes it to his sled and takes one last look at you. You’re still staring at him, air puffing from your lips. Snow speckles your hair, and he swears your eyes are sparkling. You look like a typical shoujo love interest, right before they do something drastic; like confessing their love for the MC before kissing them dramatically.

So, he really should’ve seen this coming.

You bound towards him, and before he can scream at you, you grab his collar and pull him down to your height, pressing your lips to his cheek. It feels like you're kissing him forever, but as soon as he gets used to the feeling, you’re releasing him. He can faintly hear cheering (and polite claps from Jade) but it's like everyone else around him is muffled. You’re telling him something, but he can’t hear you, his ears are ringing too loud. He feels his face burning hotter than his hair, and if he thought the pink tips from yesterday were embarrassing, the hot pink color must be mortifying. He just turns and faces forward, readying his plushie for Epel’s command.

“Go Idia! You have to win this thing!”

Your cheers of encouragement ring out into the air as the team takes off from the pit stop, snow flying wildly in the air as they speed off. You’re waving them off until they disappear from your sight. Your grin is massive as you help Granny Marja pack up the rest of the equipment, ready to meet your team at the finish line. Based on how they took off; you’re hoping your good luck kiss propels them to finish first.

--

“Your kiss was a total party-wide stat debuff; there was no way for us to recover in enough turns to win!”

“Oh, for the love of- shut up!”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Vampire!Rhysand x reader: Mercy, Devil

A/N: I meant to write this for October since it sounded spooky, but honestly I’m happy I didn’t because now I get to write something supernatural in the lead up to Christmas!

Warnings: blood, vampirism, eventual poly relationship

Word Count: 5,064

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve always had a strange fixation with the phantasmal night of all hallows eve. Something particular about the thought of ghastly apparitions being freed to sew discord and chaos through the monotony of everyday life entices your pulse to spike dangerously. Blood thrumming in your veins.

Clouds seal the full moon to the sky, casting shadows throughout the already dense and dark woodland. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet as you continue along the path through the ancient forest. Gnarled branches reach into your way, like talons of some malignant beast stretching to grasp you in its claws. Heart bumps against its cage, pale robes swishing provocatively in your wake, a pale glow of white contained within the darkness of night.

Before you, the abandoned castle looms, cutting a towering silhouette as it’s lit by a crack of lightening, splitting the heavens in two. Ravens caw and crow, taking sudden flight to the stormy skies, wind picking up as it whips the leaves from branches, thunder and rain coming on in an abrupt onslaught, seemingly out of nowhere. The water lashes at your skin, thoroughly soaking your robes, slicking the thin fabric to your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow the tug toward the old castle site, a chill running up your spine as you’re lured closer, path quickly muddying beneath your feet as you stumble through the howling wind and screaming rain, reaching the base of the entry way. Hurriedly trample up the carved steps, passing by the large carved gargoyles hunched either side of the case. Lightening crackles again, bursting across the thundery sky and you dive for the cover of the hewn-rock archway, seeking shelter from the torrent of heavy droplets.

Plaster yourself to the looming door, the skull knocker digging into your shoulder as you rest against it. The wood gives way, and you yelp as you stumble back, tripping up over your feet, cloak getting caught as you’re sent falling onto your ass. A stray wind whips through the interior, door slamming shut before your very eyes, locked in darkness. Tendrils of hot breath curl before your face in the low temperature of the castle, and you hurry to your feet.

Flinch as the room comes alight, allowing your eyes to sweep across the grand entrance: rich, polished floorboards bathed with blood-red rugs, a glass chandelier hanging like an abnormal spider above the room, the two sets of large winding staircases, and the dark figure at their peak. Candle light warms the castle hall, and you press back into the locked door, breathing heavily.

“My, my,” the character calls softly, “what has the storm brought in?”

Blink quickly, returning to your senses as reason and rationality are returned. You hadn’t known the castle was occupied… “I’m so sorry, Lord,” you call, hoping your voice carries to his looming perch. “I was out in the forest when the rain came on out of nowhere,” you explain, “I came seeking shelter, but the door wasn’t closed properly, and I fell in.” Heat flushes your cheeks, and you self-consciously step back from the rich rugs, trying to keep the mud from the spotless fabric.

“Fell in?” He echoes, and you could swear you hear the faintest laugh. “There’s been many a grand entrance in these halls, and yet none quite as theatrical as your own.” Suck in a quiet inhale of embarrassment, smoothing down the cloak in attempts to look vaguely presentable for the young aristocrat. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you call out, thankful for the evenness of your voice. “I would like to request shelter until the storm passes, then I promise I will be on my way.”

“Of course,” he replies, “be my guest.” His arm sweeps across the grand hall, encompassing the room with a deliberately relaxed gesture. “What’s mine is yours. Stay as long as it pleases you.”

Almost immediately, your shoulders lose their tension, relieved to not be forced back out into the horrific storm—it really had broken out of nowhere. You dip into a light curtsey, the least you can do to demonstrate your gratitude. “My deepest thanks, lord…?”

“Rhysand,” he calls, voice smooth as velvet, sinful as silk. “You may call me Rhysand.”

————

Strangely, you hadn’t seen another soul since you had arrived, which can’t be right, since the place was clean enough you might have thought it unlived in. Missing the mess of life, a strange deathlessness stalking the flame-lit halls.

Perplexities aside, the lord—Rhysand, as he’d informed you with that strange smile—had been more than welcoming, offering a spare bedroom larger than your home, with clothes to change into. You’d had to fight to keep your mouth from parting in awe from the decadent luxury at his fingertips, the sheer mass of wealth he’s shrouded in. How blasé he is about the display of opulence, immune to the shock and wonder of it all.

“You are free to stay as long as you please,” he’d reminded, glancing over to you from where he stands on the threshold. “Dinner will be served at eight. I’d be delighted if you joined me,” he says, offering the invitation graciously. Brows raise on your forehead, grateful for your stroke of luck. Dip your head in confirmation. “That would be wonderful,” you answer sincerely, “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, my lord.” He waves his hand dismissively, yet it comes across as charming rather than arrogant. “Rhysand will suffice perfectly,” he replies, sharp eyes cutting to you, lips fashioning themselves into a distinctly feline smile. “Rhys if you feel otherwise inclined.” There’s a suggestive lilt to his honeyed voice that has your hairs standing on end, toes curling in spare slippers.

Dip your head again. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

Something pleasured passes through the darkness of his gaze, but it’s quickly covered as he nods, turning to leave, but pausing. “Feel free to adorn yourself as you please,” he adds on, framing it as an after-thought, despite embodying the antithesis of someone who would speak without thinking. He inclines his head toward the vanity, various sparkling gems strung together, contained within the jewellery armoire. Lips part to politely refuse—he’s already offered so much, it would feel wrong to take advantage of such an opportunity.

But he beats you to it, giving you a smile that suggests he knows exactly what you were about to say. “God turns a blind eye to my castle,” he purrs, lips sinfully curved. “Indulge as you like.”

Then he’s gone, striding away down the blood-red corridors, disappearing out of sight and leaving you alone in the offered room. Completely out of your depth, on unfamiliar ground.

Glance at the grandfather clock—you have a quarter hour to swiftly change into clothes of his taste. You waste no time, hastily closing the door before heading to the armoire provided. He’d told you everything was already prepared, which had initially drawn some questions, but you suppose someone with such a vastness of wealth would always have his doors open to passersby—a different way of displaying opulence.

You settle on the simplest gown you can find, still obscenely intricate, with tiny detailed patches of embroidered lacing the hem and sides. The bodice fits nicely, easy to change into and resting comfortably over your now-dry skin. The skirts are held up by an in-built petty-coat, giving the illusion of shape by flaring out past your waist, grazing your ankles. While the rest of you has been ridden of the lasting effects of rain, your hair remains damp, so you decide to allow it to hang at your back—you’d hate to sleep on the crisp pillows with wet hair.

A single look to the clock reveals you have five minutes before dinner is served, so you decide to peer at the jewellery, making sure to leave time for finding the dining hall. Within the small armoire are a menagerie of necklaces, but you pick out a small string of pearls, the clasps rendered in gold to match with the cream of your gown. Heart beats with infantile excitement at getting to adorn yourself in such expensive clothing, enjoying the cool brush against your skin, the weight of the pearls as they skim your breasts—plumped by the front of the bodice.

The clock ticks, and you turn for the door, leaving no time to change from the slippers that had been offered as you swish out into the hallway, returning the way you had come. Surely the dining hall would be located upon the ground floor…

You head for the swirl of stairs, pausing at their peak—where the sharp-featured lord had stood, surveying his lonely kingdom. The glass pendants suspended from the chandelier glitter and gleam like diamonds, and you span your hands delicately across the polished wood of the banister, taking the time to drink in and admire the antique beauty of his home.

Startle when a palm slides around your waist, spinning fully upon turning to see who’s approached. The banister presses to the base of your spine as you lean to it, his hands lightly holding your sides, resting without squeezing. “I’m glad you were able to find your way,” he says lowly, no need for volume with the proximity you are to one another. “I had worried you might find yourself lost in my halls, and I would have to go searching.”

A polite smile plays on your lips, attempting to calm the flush his silken words inspire beneath your features. “I was admiring your home,” you murmur, one hand pressing atop your breast to calm your heart—maybe also to direct his attention to the softness of cleavage. “The chandelier is wonderful, with how it catches the light. For a moment I thought it was winking at me,” you laugh quietly, demurely ducking your head, casting your gaze away from the sharpness of his own.

Rhysand chuckles lowly, “you have the eyes of a magpie.” Hand lightly raises to the set of shining beads at your throat. “Seemingly the taste of one, too.” He threads his fingers with those atop your breast, bringing your knuckles to the softness of his lips. “May I say, you look positively regal,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your skin. You’re surprisingly relieved at the coolness of his mouth, soothing the fire that’s thrumming wildly in response to the delightful liberties he’s taking.

This time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Enchanted by the swirling depths of violet.

“If I look regal,” you breathe softly, “it is thanks to your exquisite taste in dress.” He raises a single, neatly groomed brow, and you’re rather glad to have the banister to lean back on. “A raw gem is beautiful even before it’s refined,” he purrs, cool lips skimming your knuckles with each word. “The clothing merely enhances what was already there.”

Open your mouth to deny his flattery, but once again he beats you to it, as if able to read minds. “Now,” he says, standing to his full height, “shall we?” He guides your arm to link with his own, hand pressing to the firmness of muscle beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. All you can manage is a dip of your head in acquiescence before he’s gracefully guiding you to the stairs, leading the way to the dining hall.

“In the mean time,” he says casually, “why don’t you tell me what you were doing, traipsing through the woods on such a morbid night?” Clasp your skirts in one hand, descending the case on his arm, quietly enjoying the gentlemanly mannerisms even if you’re undeserving of them. “It’s all hallows eve,” you answer, honestly, “I found myself yearning the company of the forest.”

“So you decided to play at red-riding hood,” he drawls, mirth coating his teasing words. You manage to shoot him what you hope is a playful glance. “There are no wolves in these forests, Rhysand,” you smile, returning your gaze to the steps. “Besides, these robes are white, not red.”

The two of you reach the base, and he moves to escort you through the archway on your right, leading away from the entrance hall. “That’s the lovely thing about white though, isn’t it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So open to change.” Your brow dips in a subtle show of confusion, narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Lips carve themself into something distinctly vulpine, sharp canines gleaming beneath the warm light. But he shakes his head, murmuring a “never mind” before continuing through the ornamented room.

“Tell me more about this so-called yearning for the forest,” he goads, drawing you through yet another exquisitely decorated hall, rugs a shade darker now you’ve strayed from the entrance. It’s your turn to shake your head, unsure how to describe it without sounding utterly off your rocker. “It’s hard to say really,” you say truthfully. “The temperature was crisp but not biting, and the sky was overcast without promising a storm— well, I had thought not, though I was clearly mistaken,” you smile, though there’s an intensity to his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You quickly avert your eyes, peering instead at the large banquet table you’re swiftly approaching.

“I think, if I’m being quite plain, the quiet suited me in that moment,” you admit softly. “I didn’t know those forests were capable of being quiet,” he mutters, “they must like you.” You shoot him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, again shaking his head. “I was merely thinking out loud,” he clarifies, pulling out your chair. You politely take the seat, smoothing out your skirts as he tucks you in. “I’d be interested in hearing more of your inner thoughts,” you say, “they sound quite intriguing.”

Rhysand pauses, hands resting atop the back of your chair, “would you now?” Spine stiffens when you feel icy air brush your temple, tilting your head to figure where the stray breeze came from. Freeze when his lips graze the shell of your ear, fingers halting in your lap. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking right now?” He inquires lowly, startling heat simmering in your lower abdomen. Manage a slight dip of your chin in tense confirmation. Lips trail lower, ghosting below your ear, brushing your neck. But then he pulls away, standing straight, offering a charming smile. “I’m thinking it would be a shame to be seated so far apart from you, and that I will have to move to be at your side.” Then he’s striding to the end to retrieve the crockery laid out, cutlery held in his free hand.

While his back is turned, you take the moment to try and calm your racing heart, startled by the vivacious beat being drummed against your ribs. You should be better equipped to face him, yet he’s seamlessly pulling you apart, stitch by stitch. All effortless charm and debonair grace. By the time he’s returned, you’ve managed to reach a state of near relaxation, just an edge of tension still gnawing at your spine.

“So, Rhysand,” you say quietly, nervous to intrude too deeply into the air of the castle. “Does your family live with you?” When he begins taking food to his plate, you follow suit, assuming the dinner has commenced, and that it will be fine for you to now start on the delicious meal laid before you. “Occasionally they fly by,” he answers with that playful smile, its reflection mirrored upon your lips. “I have two brothers who will visit from time to time, though they have their own hunting grounds to preside over.”

He hunts? You would have thought someone dressed as finely as he is would have little interest in such a superficial task. Particularly if there’s no one to converse with during the process. An image of him dressed in hunting leathers flashes through your mind, as if put there by an encouraging hand. “Preside over?” You ask, raising a forkful of food to your mouth.

Rhysand nods, smiling faintly as he watches you. “Indeed. They require a surprising amount of attention. Making sure the game are well-kept so none are driven from the lands,” he elaborates, and you nod along, surprised to find yourself interested in the subject. “What counts as being well-kept?” You ask once done with the food in your mouth, eagerly moving to the next piece. “Making sure they are well-fed,” he answers with a playful smile, “that generally keeps them happy.”

You blink, then smile. It’s nice to know he takes care of the animals on his land. That they’re looked after before their death. More humane than some of the things you’ve seen in your small hamlet. “I take it you hunt for pleasure?” You asks, eager to learn more about the charming lord. But he shakes his head, “not regularly. Or rather, not as regularly as some others I know.” A frown seems to dip his brows, and you wish to change the subject. His knife slices through the meat on his plate, carving it up into neat little squares for polite, bite-sized snacks. “Besides, I fear if my game notices it’s being picked off, it will run for the hills.”

Laughter bubbles across your breast-bone with his little quirks. The idea that his prey would be at all self-aware is rather amusing, while also strangely heart-warming. “If hunting is not a hobby of yours, how do you spend your time?” You ask, relaxing into the pleasantly stimulating conversation. “Welcoming rain-soaked women into my castle, of course,” he drawls, a wide smile spreading across your lips, quickly raising your hand to cover your mirth-filled grin. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt, yet I haven’t laid eyes on a single other soul here,” you reply, peering at him.

Lips quirk, and he reaches for his glass of red wine, thoroughly opaque, darkened in the flame light. “Everyone else has gone home for the night,” he answers, sipping at the thick liquid. “It’s just us, my lady.” Flush at the title, returning to concentrate on the meal. “I am no lady, Rhysand,” you respond softly, cutting into the rich meat on your plate. “And yet if I were to walk through those doors and find you dining alone, I would not think you looked even a spot out of place in my home,” he says, equally hushed.

Cutlery stills in your hands, raising your eyes to swirling violet. It strikes you then what a spectacular colour it is. Manage a shy smile, “your flattery is outrageous.” He’s quiet for a short spell, before also lowering his cutlery. “Do I look like I’m lying to you?” You’re surprised by the sincerity of his tone. Throat rolls as you observe him, head still lowered shyly. “I’ve known you for not even a night,” you murmur, unable to quite pull your focus from him. “You could,” he answers lowly, voice pitched down a few keys.

Blink, taken aback. You must be misunderstanding. Swallow thickly, making to return to your plate, but— “Don’t look away,” he instructs softly, coaxing your eyes back to his. Mind swims through heat, the world dimming around him, as if blanketed by a thick fog. “I…I couldn’t say,” you manage, a strange wariness prickling at the nape of your neck. Hairs rising with the intensity of his gaze.

The lord is quiet again, watching you with those strange, wonderful eyes. But then he pulls away, spearing a sectioned piece of meat with his fork. “Forgive me,” he says, “I shouldn’t have been so crass with you. I find myself so rarely with civilised company my manners are often forgotten.”

You shift in your seat, a bout of cold icing your skin in the absence of his attention. “No, it’s fine,” you say, finished with your meal, gently setting down the knife and fork. “I was simply caught off guard. The truth is I would feel as though I was taking advantage of your generosity, Rhysand.” You notice he’s also finished, but are unable to recall at what point. “What’s mine is yours,” he reminds lowly, eyes glinting.

Pulse spikes in response, something dark in that look that has you urging to run. The question is: in what direction?

“You seem tired,” he observes, glancing at the grandfather clock. Brows raise as he reads the time. “Appropriately. It’s nearing midnight,” he drawls. Lips part in surprise, how has it been that long? It feels like you sat down to eat less than an hour ago, yet it’s already beginning the ascent into morning. “Nearly midnight?” You echo, following his gaze. The clock indeed reads twelve, the hour hand raised as if poised to strike down.

Rhysand stands from his chair, refolding the napkin before stretching out his hand. “I would hate for you to sleep poorly because of me. Allow me escort you back to your room,” he asks quietly, all traces of previous heat removed, replaced by well-mannered charm. You manage a nod, arm once again overlapping with his own, making to follow him through the labyrinthine halls.

It hits you then, the vastness of his castle—how desolate the space must be. Especially with how rarely he apparently gets to meet with anyone he cares for. “You know, before tonight I had thought your castle was abandoned,” you say absently, taking in the elaborate decorations with more appreciation. “I’ll admit, it sometimes feels that way,” he replies, deep voice tracing down your spine. Push the heat aside for the moment, turning to glance at him. “Do you ever get lonely?” You ask quietly, aware of the ice you’re treading.

He hesitates, momentarily meeting your gaze before continuing onward, reaching the stairs. “Quite possibly,” he answers, “it would certainly be reason for my appalling lapse in manners earlier tonight.” His lips are lifted at their edges, yet you can’t quite manage to return the smile. It must be difficult, having all this space with only his self to fill it. Then again, with the intensity he’s occasionally pinned you with, that doesn’t seem like a particularly hard task.

“Tell me about your own hobbies,” he requests, breaking from your inner thoughts. “I feel as though I’ve spoken more than enough for tonight.” But you’re shaking your head before you can help it, speaking before you can stop it. “I like the sound of your voice,” you admit quietly. Violet eyes flick to you, weighing on your cheek…your neck. “It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

He stares, and heat blossoms beneath your skin. That was incredibly uncalled for on your part.

“I hope not,” he says at last, humiliation burning at your insides as you hastily look away. But then he comes to a stop, hand reaching for your jaw, drawing your helpless gaze to lock with his own. “Because putting you to sleep right now is the last thing on my mind,” he breathes lowly.

Oh.

Chest rises and falls steadily, becoming aware of how breathless you feel, how utterly bare you are beneath that look of his. Tongue flicks out over your lower lip, mouth parched. “Tell me…what’s the first thing on your mind then, Rhys.” Attention pierces to the plushness of your lips, and you’re suddenly in need of that banister from earlier. “You want to know what I’d do with you if you let me?” He asks, voice rougher than it was moments before. Pulse spikes beneath that intensity, breath shallowing, but you manage a nod.

He groans lowly, hand dropping to your waist, lightly resting along the seam of the bodice. Cool fingers stroke away a lock of hair, pads grazing the heat of your cheek as he stares down at you. “I’m not sure such things are for your ears, magpie,” he grits out, applying a light bit of force to your waist. “Tell me anyway,” you breathe, hands raising to the fine lapels of his jacket, more eager to put them in his hair.

A rough sound of conflicted pleasure rumbles in his chest. “Such lovely things,” he promises, violet darkening with desire, swirling and dancing as he drinks you in. “So lovely you wouldn’t be able to pull away once I’d started.”

Heat numbs rationality, mind melting as the words warmly splash over your bones, sinking into marrow as you become soft and supple beneath his touch. Step into the lines of his body, feeling as his fingers press to your sides with tension. “Do it,” you breathe, quietly. “Please.”

Cunning satisfaction releases through the male, pleased with how quickly you changed your mind once he applied himself to the task. He’d gotten a sense of your taste before dinner, when he’d pushed you in, and it had been enough to convince him even though he’d fed not even a week ago, he would have to sample you. Now here you are, head tilted, eyes having fluttered shut, offering yourself to him for an entirely different set of wants. Maybe he will indulge your desires—if you satisfy his, that is.

You’ll be on the floor colder than ice if you fail to do so.

He moves in, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he lowers his mouth to yours. Lamb had been served over dinner, and he finds the taste pleasant on your tongue, stoking the embers of his hunger as he presses himself against the soft shape of you, partially hidden by the blasted dress and pearls. A small sound gets caught in your throat, and he revels in the feeling of your fingers tightening on the lapels of his jacket. As if you’re experiencing even a fraction of the hunger he has for you.

Works his way down your jaw, taking his time as he descends to your neck. Nosing at the pronounced pulse, liking how you tilt your head to one side, freely gifting him access. Lips graze the spot he’s chosen, tongue flicking out to drag along hot skin—so hot it practically burns.

Razor-sharp canines scrape, and he feels the exact moment you go rigid in his arms. But by then it’s too late, his teeth piercing your throat, injecting his philtre-laced venom into your bloodstream. The familiar taste of adrenaline and arousal spills on his tongue, bursting from the small puncture marks he’s made, quick to heal over with the aid of saliva. Drinks you down, savouring the richness of your blood, sealing his lips over the incisions, taking more, and more, and more—

He forcefully drags himself away, vision turning hazy, the scent of your life-force spinning his mind. Breathes heavily, the rich and spicy tang still prominent in his mouth, sapid and hot. Tongue darts out to wet his lips, gathering up faint traces that remain there, and then he’s being pulled back, already so deeply enamoured.

Canines re-pierce that same spot, reopening the incisions as your blood burns his throat, inspiring heat in his long-dead body. It’s as if he’s returning to life, having it shot through his veins, snaring him in the addicting flavour. Lips seal over the puncture marks, drinking deeply, swallowing down more and more.

He should stop.

He knows he should stop—he’ll bleed you dry, and then he’ll never have another taste. Arousal coats his tongue, and heat spreads across his skin, bone-deep aches making themselves apparent, as if forcefully dragging him to you. Your hands have dropped from his jacket, instead weakly rubbing at his shoulder and chest, unable to do much more than hold yourself up.

But the taste—the sheer heaven you’ve put into him again. If he stops drinking, it will pass, and he’ll return to that permanent state of death, cold and solitary. But you’re bleeding sunlight into him, sunlight that’s dappled and controlled instead of the unrestricted blaze that would incinerate him in the blink of an eye.

A quiet gasp slips from your lips, fingers losing their grip on his clothing, beginning to slip, but just a little more…one more gulp…one more sip…

“Mercy, devil,” he breathes onto your neck, as if in pain. “What God-damning angel are you?” He growls, trembling hands cupping your cheeks, sharp violet eyes locked on the small marks to your throat. “You’ve bewitched me. I must…” Then he’s surging forward, slamming you against the wall with inhuman force, hand gripping your jaw as he roughly tilts your head to the side. Groans, hot tongue licking over the soft skin, elongated incisors pricking as they again pierce.

Pulse spikes beneath his grip, growing dizzy as he drinks deeply, hands pressed to your shoulders to pin you still. Vision blurs, lips parting as you raise your arms in attempt to push him away, but end up desperately clinging to the finely spun fabric cloaking his back. Limbs go weak, turning limp in his hold as he feeds, a pleasurable spin overcoming your mind, turning pliable beneath his teeth.

He groans, pulling away only in favour of going lower, suctioning now-hot lips over a new, unmarked patch of skin. Blood bursts on his tongue, rich and spicy, not yet too ripe but void of the sour bite that’s present in the young. Heaven and hell blend together in his mouth, mixing so appetisingly he could never—

“Rhys…” you whisper, pleading. Less than a breath left before you—

Your body slumps, and his is trembling so violently the best he can do is go with you as you slide down the wall, blood trickling down onto the pure, white pearls. He knew they’d get in the way.

He hauls himself away, shocked at the utter lack of control you had subjected him to. How his discipline shudders in your presence, practically brought to its knees for a single drop more.

Earlier he had considered making a bottle or two out of you to send off to his brothers, ready for consumption.

Looking at you now, he can hardly stand the thought.

What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.

Your blood is his, and his only.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[siyooungi]

Heyy!! I have this cute idea

How about Yunjin and 6th member reader who are in a relationship and whenever they play any sorta game R looks at Yunjin pouting and so Yunjin lets her win all the time and the other members are annoyed at her

Just a light-hearted idea

A/N: Hii! This really was such a cute idea.

Pairing: Yunjin x Fem!Reader

Idol: Huh Yunjin (Le Sserafim)

Warning(s): None!

You and Yunjin have been dating for several months now, and your love for each other had only grown stronger with time. Of course, the girls were well aware of this and supported it. However, it was times where you played games that they couldn’t stand you both, or more so Yunjin. One thing you guys enjoyed doing when you had free time was playing video games together.

The familiar jingle of Mario Kart's theme song filled the room, you and the others settled yourselves on the couch, eagerly grabbing your controllers. Your members (and girlfriend) were more than ready for an intense gaming session. Whenever you guys gathered for these sessions, everyone was competitive, especially Sakura and Eunchae.

For this game, you were on teams. Yunjin, Chaewon and Eunchae were one team, and Sakura, Kazuha and you were on the other. Everyone knew that if Yunjin was on one team and you were on the opposite, they would want to be on your team. It was basically a gateway to winning.

This round, you and Yunjin were against each other. You couldn't help but smile as you glanced over at Yunjin. She always looked adorable when she was focused, her brows furrowed in concentration. There was no trash talking, but you did poke fun at her every now and then. Though, you had a tactic for whenever you began losing. Knowing that Yunjin couldn’t resist you, you abused the power you had over her. The competitive nature in you couldn't resist trying to bring out Yunjin's soft side. You would do anything to win, even if it meant playing dirty. So, whenever you found yourself losing, you would pout and shoot Yunjin a playful, pleading gaze. It didn't take long for Yunjin to fall for your tactics. Seeing your adorable pout, she couldn't resist giving in to her girlfriend's wishes.

As the race progressed, Yunjin's gaze kept drifting towards you, unable to resist the urge to make you happy. Every time you pouted, Yunjin's heart melted, and she found herself easing off the gas pedal, allowing you to pass her effortlessly.

The other members quickly caught on to Yunjin's habit of letting you win, and they couldn't help but express their displeasure. Well, it was more so your rivals. Chaewon, known for her fiery spirit, couldn't contain her annoyance any longer. "Yah! Stop letting her win!" she shouted, throwing her controller up in the air in frustration. Eunchae joined in, throwing her head back in exasperation and exclaiming, "Unnie!"

Amidst the chaos, Sakura and Kazuha couldn't help but celebrate the victory. They high-fived each other, enjoying their win while sharing amused glances with you.

Yunjin, on the other hand, was flustered by Chaewon’s outburst and tried to defend herself. "I-I'm not letting her win on purpose! It's just... luck!" She stammered, desperately searching for excuses. But her teammates weren't buying it. They scoffed and rolled their eyes, clearly unconvinced.

While Chaewon continued to scold Yunjin, Sakura and Kazuha basked in your victories. Unable to contain your delight, you jumped up from the couch, cheering loudly before rushing over to hug Yunjin tightly. Planting a sweet kiss on her cheek, you couldn't help but tease your girlfriend playfully, "My big softie!" The members' voices faded into the background as you showered Yunjin with affection, not caring about the chaos surrounding her.

She blushed furiously, caught between the joy of your affection and the disapproving glares of her members. The raven-haired girl stammered, trying to find the right words to defend herself once again. "I... I just wanted Y/N to have fun, that's all! It doesn't mean I'm not good at this game!" She protested, hoping to salvage her dignity. Laughter filled the room as the playful banter between Yunjin, Chaewon and Eunchae continued.

Eventually, the members realized that no amount of complaints or protests would change Yunjin's behavior. They accepted that Yunjin was head over heels for you and couldn't resist your charms, even in the digital realm. Besides, deep down, they were happy to see Yunjin so smitten.

And so, as the Mario Kart tournament continued, Yunjin found herself torn between competitiveness and the overwhelming desire to see your smile. Yunjin occasionally tried to sneak in a win, but you always saw through her tactics, and you would both dissolve into fits of laughter. The members learned to embrace the dynamic and even started teasing Yunjin about being a "whipped girlfriend," which only made Yunjin blush and laugh along.

No matter what, she knew that in the end, there was no resisting you, and your members couldn’t stop that. They wouldn’t even bother trying.

[wermarises]

Parasites eating away at my brain

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 53

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “We won’t leave anyone behind.”

Chapter Warnings: Violence, death

AO3

Spotify

You’d never understood the phrase “it’s quiet, too quiet” until now. The farther you plunged into Heavy Containment, the quieter it became. There were also less signs of chaos and death, a stark contrast to what lay behind you.

It made sense, in a way. The most dangerous anomalies were stored here, but it wasn’t the kind of danger that came with claws and teeth. With these anomalies, you didn’t know anything was wrong, that you were already dead, until the deed was done. These anomalies were the reality-benders and mind breakers. Cognitohazards were, in many ways, more horrifying because of the horrors you couldn’t perceive.

You didn’t know why the archival section had been built so close to this wing, but if anything, it would act as a deterrent for those who wanted to reach the many dangerous objects contained within. It was unlikely you would run into anyone still alive.

That was your assumption, anyway. And as the squad of Mobile Task Force soldiers rushed into the room, catching you out in the open of a large work area, you felt like an idiot.

049 grabbed your arm and shoved you behind him, but there wasn’t a point. The soldiers encircled you from all sides, rifles and shotguns aimed at your chests. They shouted, yelled orders, demanded you get on the ground. This was a recapture, not an extermination.

Neither of you obeyed. You pressed your back to his, wishing you still had your P90—at least you could go down fighting. Even if dying meant the facility would be torn apart, you held out hope 049 would have a chance to survive and escape.

049 let his cane drop to the floor, and then his hand curled around yours. A shuddered breath escaped you, because you understood. 049 would rather die here, with you, than walk free alone.

You braced for the impact of bullets tearing into flesh, a feeling you were now intimately familiar with, your heart in your mouth, lungs burning. 049 gripped your hand tighter, and you wished you had time, there was so much you still wanted to say—

The room fell silent. The soldiers stopped shouting orders and simply stood there like statues, the likeness made stronger with the shields covering their faces. They remained that way, inert and silent, for several seconds.

And then they each turned to their left, aimed their weapons at the back of the soldier next to them, and fired. They fell to the ground in a movement so synchronized it was almost unnatural, and then the room returned to deathly stillness, the air marred with the lingering stench of gunfire and blood.

You leaned against 049’s broad back, trying to catch your breath, and you opened your mouth to say what the hell?! and immediately closed it. Something covered in green fur and grey scales sauntered into the room, his shoulders now reaching up to your waist.

682, grown to the size of a very large wolf, exposed his teeth in a canine grin, and perched on his back was a little girl who looked about three years old.

“Reid!”

The child scrambled down 682’s back and raced across the room. She crossed the line of bodies without stopping, she didn’t even notice them, and launched herself at you, wrapping her arms around your legs.

049 had moved out of the way of the girl’s arrival, and you met his gaze with wide eyes, but he didn’t have an explanation either.

“053,” you said, keeping your tone calm for the girl’s sake. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to find you!”

You glanced toward 682, but the reptile ignored you and sniffed at the corpses. You really hoped he didn’t start eating them.

049’s attention was also drawn to the destruction around him.

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?” 053 clung to your leg but stared up at 049 with wide, curious eyes.

You shook your head just enough for 049 to catch, and the confusion cleared from his expression, settling into something more concerned. He crouched down, bracing one knee against the floor so he didn’t tower over the girl, and he kept his hands folded in his lap where they wouldn’t accidentally touch her.

“We thank you for your assistance, little one. What name may I call you?”

053 frowned a little, though it turned inward.

“I don’t… remember.”

“That’s okay.” You patted the girl’s head, not exactly sure how to comfort a child, especially one who had stayed the same age for an unknowable amount of time. “What do you say to leaving the facility with us?”

“Can 682 come too?”

The sound of bones snapping between boney jaws made you wince.

“Sure, he can come.”

“And 079?”

You glanced backward at the corpse-dining reptile and saw the laptop bag slung along his neck, carrying the weight of the laptop. It was kind of sweet. With the way he looked out for 079 and 053, you could almost imagine he had a soft spot.

“Of course,” you said, as if 682 wouldn’t gnaw on your bones next if you tried to separate them. “We won’t leave anyone behind.”

053’s smile spread into a grin, and she nodded from where she hid behind your leg, shyly peeking out at 049. But 049 quickly got to his feet when 682 joined you, his stride heavy and predatory. You kind of missed the gecko version.

“I was unaware you still lived,” 049 said, appraising the reptile with a cool stare. 682’s smile was toothy and mean.

“Likewise. I figured you were Old Man chum. 079 put your odds of survival at 0.23%.”

049’s stare turned withering, and 682 leered at you.

“You went through all that trouble. He must be really good.”

Your face burned, and when 049 sent you a questioning frown of his eyes, you turned away and busied yourself with finding something useful among the dead. You found a fully loaded shotgun strapped with shells and took it; you didn’t plan to be caught off-guard again.

“So,” you said, inspecting the weapon, “what have you two been up to?”

“Keeping you all alive.” 682’s tone was bored. 053 came up to him and padded him on the neck, and he pretended not to notice. “079 sectioned off more of his programming and embedded it into the system. Something about the facility’s security algorithms attempting to gas us, electrocute us, or torch us alive. Our captors believe, rightly so, that they have lost control of the facility.”

Well, it was nice to know they hadn’t betrayed you.

“I see. Uh… thanks.”

682 snorted and shook his head, causing the girl to giggle as his long fur tickled her face.

“079 likes you far too much to let you die. Besides, if you perished, we would not survive it.”

“Right,” you grumbled. Did everyone know what you were before you? “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

682 knelt down, allowing 053 to crawl onto his back, but he hesitated to follow once he was on his feet.

“That way leads deeper into the facility.”

“Yes,” 049 said, his dour tone conveying how much he liked this plan. “To the archival section. The mask indicated it contains an exit.”

“Oh, well, if the mad mask says it’s true, we should take it on blind faith as we walk into the darkness. Superb planning by the facility’s top two geniuses.”

How a reptile could be so sarcastic, you didn’t know.

The girl clapped her hands as 682 took the lead, and you exchanged a tired look with 049. He looked tempted to hit the reptile with his cane, so you took his hand instead. It did its job, drawing 049’s attention back to you, and his eyes softened around the edges.

With 682 ahead, 053 providing an invisible barrier around you, and segments of 079 looking out for you, it felt safe enough to indulge. It was strange to have allies, for you and 049 to not have to do this alone. You weren’t free yet, but you were getting closer.

049 squeezed your hand, and you followed him down the red-tinted corridor that would lead to the end. One way or another.

Next Chapter

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need… 

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened… 

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound… 

I should make amends, it is right… 

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest… 

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her… 

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday… 

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass… 

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them  from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears. 

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel. 

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat? 

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew  was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face. 

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest.  “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys. 

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens. 

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?” 

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him. 

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way. 

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears. 

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her. 

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed. 

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew  where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again. 

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

[itjazzbicch]

Hunger

Pairing: Havik x Vaeternian(Vampire)!Reader 

First time writing for Havik, so I hope I did well! 

Summary: As friends/allies, the reader is blindsided before meeting with Havik to discuss important matters, starving as some time had passed before their meeting, and when Havik sees their condition, their friendship begins to show...

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, blood-sucking, mentions of injury. (Havik being a little soft because that's what I want lol) Havik's tower ending spoiler (kinda lol)

(Had this idea in mind and could only see it working with Havik for some reason)

Word Count: .6k 

"You conquered Seidou, huh?" As much as Havik disliked the wholesome word, friends, that's what we were, happy that my friend accomplished his goal, "I knew you would."

"Something's wrong-"

We were supposed to meet as I hoped to take a big step in my plan to save my kind in the realm of Vaeternus, but I was blindsided before meeting here.

In the dark forest, it was hard to see; stepping into the moonlight, my face showed that I was drained, and the one distinctive part of me was now missing.

"Your wings-" The moonlight revealed the anger in his eyes, rage on his scarred face, and in his voice, "What happened?!"

"Simple-minded scum hating my kind, as always," I sighed, going to him, but stumbling into a tree, slowly sinking to the ground, explaining as he came to me, searching for my wings and not wanting to accept the truth, "They clipped my wings, Havik. They're gone now."

"Who did this?" Staring deep into my eyes, I could see the chaos that this created in his mind and how badly he wanted to release it, "I'll kill them."

"There's no need. I already did that," The wounds left behind after my wings were clipped left me considerably weakened; I managed to dispose of the assassin who was sent to kill me, but I was too weak to put myself in danger and not able to use my intuitive tactics now that my wings were gone, Havik realizing what was most threatening at that moment:

"You haven't eaten, have you?"

"Not since I ate that assassin," I hated how my stomach felt like an endless pit at times; now, starving on top of being wounded, the future wasn't very bright from my perspective; apologizing to Havik with a whisper, "I'm sorry, but I'm useless now."

"Don't talk like you're a weakling," Kneeling at my side, he was always hellbent on whatever task lay ahead of him and expected me to be the same way, "You're not useless, just hungry, right?"

"Very," I sighed, taken aback as he titled his head, presenting his neck to me:

"What are you waiting for?"

"A-Are you sure?" My rumbling hunger had my mouth water at the sight of his neck, but he was my friend; something in my heart conflicted with that hunger, making me hesitant.

"Yes," He huffed with impatience, rolling his eyes, so I picked myself up and rubbed the side of his neck, cooing:

"Relax, so it doesn't hurt that bad."

"Pfft, sure-"

I warned him, hunger's desperation was no longer tolerable, my fangs sinking into his neck, feeling the bit of tenseness as I pierced his skin and flesh. The first drop of blood had me humming, trying not to suck him dry.

This was more of a test of self-control rather than a feeding session. I'd never tasted anyone like him before. The taste was distinct and was urging me to be ravenous, my hums growing with every swallow, even running a hand through his hair, but his chaotic ways made me side-eye him as he was groaning and laughing:

"Ngh, ha-ha, hmm."

"Enjoying yourself?" I toyed as I picked myself up, not full, but not starving, so I was grateful, cleaning his neck with my tongue before kissing the bite softly, "Thank you for that."

He wasn't responding to me, unsure of what he was doing, till I felt his fingertips tracing up my back, wincing at the lingering pain as he trailed the slow healing wound where my wings were before.

"This is going to take some time to heal," He observed, showing a side of himself that I never imagined existing as he rubbed my side, the tone in his whisper sparking something within me, "And yeah, I did. I like the pain."

He was a maniac, but I think that's what I liked most about him; I chuckled at him with a smile as I shook my head, "Only you would." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[bimboothefool]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

After all these years of being apart from each other, you reunited under unfortunate circumstances. Deep down you and him desperately wished things were different.

I wasn’t feeling well mentally, so I’m gonna use my writing as an outlet. Hopefully the next jjk fanfic I write or jjk x reader art I draw will be less sad. Hope you’ll enjoy! If you like my work consider giving me a tip on kofi! Any amount is greatly appreciated.

This story contains the following subject matters: Mentions of murder and angst w/ a hopeful ending.

After being defeated by Yuta, Suguru was boiling in his wrath, vowing to get Rika next time. But as he limps pathetically to escape. You stand in front of him.

You’ve changed, since you last saw eachother. The light of the sunset made your matured beauty radiate more. His wings were clipped all because of his failings. While you seem to flourish and fly with no restrictions.

He didn’t want you seeing him like this. But fate had always ruled against him. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to love one another. Their love was a defiance of conformity and order.

“Hello Suguru…” Suguru dryly laughed, fate was indeed a cruel mistress. “On time before Satoru? Still attentive as always.” He reminisced aloud, you have changed after all this time. still aware of your many patterns even after many years passed.

Your lips trembled as tears cascaded down your cheeks. As much as you wanted to hate him with every fiber of your being. You know even after all these years, you still had some love for the man before you.

Suguru saw a sight that made his heart ache and crack at the seams. You tried to put on a mask of professionalism, but he guessed even after all these years. You could never truly part yourself away from him.

“I wanted to return to you, with a world only of Jujutsu Sorcerers. We’d rule together, no one would—”

“Please stop.” His words got clogged up in his throat. “I know what you did was unforgivable. But I understand that Jujutsu Society failed you and thousands of others. I understand why you’ve lashed out that day. Killing those villagers. You thought death was a proper punishment. I should’ve known better, you were suffering in silence.”

You took a seat beside him on the rough ground, your tears never stopped falling. Both you and Suguru sat in the serene quiet.

The chaos had been put to a halt and the black swan was defeated. But the white swan doesn’t get a happy ending either.

“I should’ve done more, but I can’t dwell on that. Now can I?” You looked to see Suguru groan in pain. Holding his left exposed shoulder. It was quite the grotesque sight.

“Guess not, maybe in another timeline…” You looked at him like he was beyond crazy. More than he was before. “In another timeline what..?” Suguru gently held your hand as if it was glass. You stared at him in disbelief.

“Maybe in another life or time. Things could be different. We could’ve had something better. A true happy ending. Just like we’ve wanted.” You croaked out as tears waterfall down your cheeks. Turning your head away from him.

“You’re so selfish…” Suguru laughed. “Of course, I always have been.” Satoru finally arrives as you get up from your spot.

Suguru confesses to everything. Satoru asks if he has any final words. Satoru’s sapphire eyes looked over to you. Your back was faced away from the two men. But he can tell from the sniffles and soft cries, your heart was bleeding. Now more than ever before. The wound that Suguru inflicted upon it had reopened.

“One last thing.” The raven haired man called out your name, your head perked up. He’s got your attention. “I love you. I always have, but never had the courage to say it. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused for us… You deserve better, please go out there. Don’t let the weight of me hold you back.”

Finally you crumbled, you ran. Ran as fast as you could. Knowing you can’t bare to see him get killed in front of you. The Suguru you’ve come to love and care for was always there. But those shadows that swallowed him whole have successfully buried him. His trauma had broken him.

' I could never find another like him. ' You told yourself, with instinct carrying you. You ran as far away as you could, not wanting Suguru, Satoru or any of your beloved students seeing you cry a geyser in front of them.

' Maybe in another life or time. Things could be different. ' His words haunted you, but you knew somewhere deep down. It was his final promise and his last words were his only wish.

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦

You stirred in your sleep as a velvet laugh and soft kiss upon your cheek awoke you from your slumber. “Morning sleeping beauty…” You woke up to the sight of Suguru looking down at you with such adoration in his eyes.

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips. “Morning to you too.” You laughed as you pecked his cheek back.

The sunrise shone on the both of you. It was your fourth year anniversary of you two dating. He helped you up and walked you towards the kitchen, the fresh cooked food filling up your senses. The drowsiness melted away, his hand never left you as you both sat down.

This wasn’t just a happily ever after, it was merely the once upon a time to the next step in your romance. Completely unaware of the velvet box in his pocket, holding an engagement ring.

One that will be the many physical forms of your undying love for one another.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝