#hes tall so i take it hes more on the slimmer side

[idchewonyou]

Who do u guys think wins the most pack runs?

[fangirlstorycreator]

Alastor X Reader

Context: Alastor saves you, and you both, surprisingly grow closer. When you defend him from an old aquatence of his, Alastor's fondness for you grows. But when you find yourself in danger, Alastor will stop at nothing to get you back, especially when your in the hands of one of his enemies...

Contains: Asexual Alastor, Asexual Reader, but romance is involved, swearing, mentions of injuries, kidnap, attempted sexual assult, hypnosis, Not for minors

P.S. Anytime you see writing in red, that is when Alastor is speaking with his static demonic radio voice

Part 1/4

Fire, death, destruction, this was your world now, or to be specific, the world you spent your afterlife in. You died a few years ago, and had managed to hide from previous exterminations in the past, but not this one. It seemed to get harder and harder to hide each time the angel's came, as if their numbers grew over night, and it terrified you. Even overlords weren't always safe in hell, so your chances were even slimmer. This recent extermination was the one that ruined you, both mentally and physically. Running through the streets, you were desperate to escape the angel's from above, but one managed to throw a spear right at you, plunging straight through your back and out the other side. It was the most excruciating pain you had ever felt, it burned and ached. Falling to your knees, looking at this angelic spear that had plunged through you, it was bleeding profusely, you mentally begged for this pain to stop. The sound of stupid laughter is heard from above, as this angel flies over you, but not before you see who it is. The absolute douchbag who laughed at you, was none other than Adam. He took joy in killing sinners, and smiled evily at you before flying away, back up to the entrance to heaven with the other angel's. You were in so much pain, maybe if you could take out the spear, it would help? Wrapping your shaking fingers around the spear, you try your best to pull it out through your body. Something like this can emotionally traumatise a person, even when their dead, but you had to keep going. Screaming in agony as you pulled and pulled, finally it came out, as you shook all over. The spear had left a small hole from your back to the front, right were your appendix would be. Falling to the floor, clutching your wound, and scared for what will happen next, terrified that you would die again, and this time, there would be nothing, just fade into darkness and never see anything again. Your vision blurs, feeling weaker by the second. You just about manage to stand up, but fail and fall against the side of the building. Tears filled your eyes, the pain was so bad that you wished it would stop, but this was hell, it's not like anyone would help you. But....to your suprise, still clutching onto consciousness, you hear voices, worried yet chirpy. How strange? All you can see are blurry colours from a long distance, but it looked like a blonde girl dressed in red, she was kneeling down to bodies. And beside her, stood a tall man, dressed entirely in red, and he was holding some kind of large stick? You just about manage to hear what they say, but it was more like fuzzy background noise.

"No, they're gone too. Come on Alastor, we need to search this area together. Please, go and look to see if there's anyone who we can help"

"Hm. Very well"

Still struggling with your vision, you see the tall man walk in your direction, looking at the bodies around you, but they were all dead. That was strange? It looked like he was smiling? Who would be smiling when this has happened? He was just a few feet from you now, when he happened to glance over, seeing you clutching your wound, struggling to breathe and keep conscious, clearly in a lot of pain.

"Oho! It seems I have found one"

He walks straight to you, kneeling in close, looking at you more clearly.

"Oh my, it seems you've really been put through the wringer my dear. My! That is one impressive injury you have there, I'm suprised your still alive. Do tell me, what is your name?"

Even with your wimpers of pain, you try your best to tell him what happened, but unfortunately, the last thing you see is his beaming smile, before passing out right against the wall.

"Hm, what a shame. The poor young lady must be suffering quite a bit. Oh Charlie! I believe we have one!"

"What?! There's someone we can help?!"

She asks running over, seeing your unconscious body, and gasping in worry.

"Yes. She is suffering from a rather nasty looking injury. I wonder if it's even possible to help her?"

"Of course we can Alastor! Right, she's still alive, can you take her?"

"Why of course my dear"

He leans down and picks you up, bridal style. You seem to weight barely anything when he holds you, even in your unconscious state.

"Alright, let's get her back to the hotel. Me and Vaggie can heal her, well, I hope"

"Do lead the way my dear. Hm...she is loosing rather a lot of blood, and it's going on my suit. It would seem I need another trip to the tailor"

Later, you regain consciousness in a new place, very unknown to you. The room is very nice, which was weird for hell, the bed you were lying in was comfy, and your injury was-oh! It was all bandaged up! That was a very big suprise. Your body felt so weird, but you still managed to sit up and slowly swing your legs over the side of the bed. You winced and grabbed yourself when your movement caused a sudden pain from your bandage. Eyes clamping shut when you tried your hardest not to shout out loud at how bad it was. You exhale, trying to keep calm, breathing away the pain with slow steady breaths. Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, the sound of someone walking towards the door distracted you just a little from your pain. They swung it open, and in walks a young woman, wait...she was the woman you saw on the street.

"Hi! I'm Charlie! Sorry to just barge in, I hoped you'd be awake, and you are! Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't be getting out of bed like that. Hear, let me help you get comfortable"

This woman was so happy, chirpy, you hadn't seen anyone in hell like that before. She helped you sit up against your bed, and tucked the quilt back around your waist and legs.

"Is there anything I can get you? Maybe something to drink?"

"Where am I?"

"Oh! Shoot! I'm so sorry, I really should have explained. Ok, sooo I'm Charlie! The princess of hell! And this place is my hotel. Me and one of my friends were out looking for anyone who needed help after the extermination, and that's where we found you! You got hurt really bad, but we did the best we could. Hopefully it won't be too long before your all better, you just need to rest"

"But...my wound...the angelic weapon...it went straight through me"

"Yes! But, your technically dead. So injuries down hear are easier to fix, which is a good thing! Kinda...but your ok now, and your welcome to stay hear as long as you like"

"Uh...thanks. That's very kind of you"

"Ah, don't mention it. I was loosing all hope on helping anyone until Alastor saw you"

"Who's Alastor?"

And as if by magic, this dark shadow manifests itself in the corner of the doorway, only to turn into the tall red man you remember, the man with the smile.

"My my, are my ears burning?"

"Ah! There you are Alastor, good news! She's awake!"

"Ah yes, I see you have woken up in much more comfort than when I first saw you. Tell me my dear, how are you feeling?"

Why did he ask with suck a big smile? Even when he walked a little closer and stood beside Charlie at the end of the bed, it was strange.

"Uh...fine...I guess"

"Fine? Oh no no my dear, if you are going to be a guest hear, you need comfort above all else. Is there anything I can provide to help you feel better?"

"It's uh...I am comfortable, I'm fine. I just....don't feel right"

You say holding your waist and looking down on it with worry.

"Ah, I see. Well worry not my dear, your pain shall not be an issue for much longer. And you are healing surprisingly quick for a sinner. I am rather impressed..."

"Alastor's right, your doing great so far. Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't even ask what your name was"

"...Y/N..."

"Aww! Such a nice name! Right Alastor?"

He leaned over, taking your hand and delicately placed a single kiss to your knuckles.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful young woman"

Well...ok...he certainly knows how to act all charming. But before you could thank him for the compliment, there was a loud crash that sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Along with two voices, arguing about something.

"Oh, for satan's sake. It sounds like Angel and Husk are arguing again. If you two young ladies would excuse me for a moment, I must stop those two imbesils from causing such a ruckus"

He left you and Charlie alone, but that was ok, they both seemed like ok people, and Charlie certainly seemed very excited to have you hear.

"Ok, so that kind of thing wiiiilllll happen from time to time, not everyone is best buddies hear. But I promise, we'll take care of you"

"Thank you Charlie, that's very sweet of you. Um, quick question"

"Yes, anything!"

"That guy, Alastor. Why does he always smile?"

"You know what? I'm not sure. He did say something about his smile when we first met, but I can't remember, that was a...a long...LONG day....But he's hear to help me and the hotel. And anyone who stays hear, like you!"

"Ok....is he...always that charming with people?"

"Yeh, that's kinda his personality, you'll get used to it. I will say this though, I think he might enjoy your company more than he let's on"

"Why would you say that? He's only spoken to me twice. And one of those times I was barely conscious"

"Yes, that's true. But I've known Alastor for just a little longer than you, I've seen how he behaves around everyone. Men, he's not really a fan of, women, he tolerates more, heck! Even once or twice he gave me a slight shoulder hug! But in regards with physical contact, Alastor isn't a fan of it, at all. I'm not sure why. But what I do know, is that since meeting Alastor, your the only one he's kissed"

"I'm sorry, kissed?!"

"Your hand, remember? When you told him your name. He held your hand and kissed it"

"Oh yeh..he did..."

"Plus, when you were out and we healed you up, he spoke about how impressed he was with your recovery time, and that you were strong enough to survive such a bad injury from an angelic weapon for so long"

"I didn't think an overlord would be impressed with a sinner"

"Yeh, and he didn't even complain about carrying you all the way back to the hotel! Well, only about his suit that had blood on it, but-"

"He? He carried me?"

"Yeh! He said you weighted no more than a dried leaf, isn't that sweet? Ok, enough about Alasor for the moment, I know your still hurting, but when your better, I'd love to introduce you to everyone else in the hotel! If your alright with that?"

"It depends, are they gunna stab me like that asshole of an angel, Adam did?"

"Oh no, noone will do that. Maybe I should take that needle from Nift-wait wait wait WAIT! You said...you said Adam?!"

"Yeh? Why are you so shocked?"

"I'm, I'm not shocked, so to say. Just, uugghh! I'm annoyed! That guy shouldn't be leading his angels down hear, and hurting people like you. I've uh, I've not long had a meeting with him about the extermination, and he was so rude to me. But hearing that he did that to you, you had it even worse"

"Yeh, well, him and his angels are gone for now, at least"

"Yeh yeh your right"

You and Charlie continue to talk and get to know another before she let's you get your rest. And in a nice suprise, your injury does actually get a lot better at a very quick rate. Turns out being dead, means that the body can heal a lot quicker than when you were alive. True to her word, Charlie did introduce you to the rest of the hotel, and you got to know them all and what they were like. You didn't see much of Alastor, but he was around, maybe you said hello to him in the hall once or twice. You wanted to talk to him, thank him for his help in getting you hear, but unless is was a management issue with the hotel, he didn't speak to or hang around with many people at all. One late evening, Charlie had shown you some books in the hotel library, and you had been sat quite comfortably in the hotel lobby, reading with no distractions. It was quite nice to just sit and read, especially now that your wound was nicely healed. It didn't hurt to bend down or do things around the hotel, and you were happy about that, and actually enjoyed most of your time hear. With being so drawn in by your book, you never noticed someone approaching you, and it wasn't until he sat beside you on the sofa, that your mind finaly came back to reality.

"Hey there sug'ah...."

"Oh. Hi Angel"

He starts acting playfull, and slightly flirty, running his finger over the spine of your book.

"What'cha readin?"

"It's one of my old favourites from when I was alive. It's called, An Inspector Calls"

"Ooooh! Is it dirty?..."

"Uh? No, it's not dirty. It's about an inspector who investigates a family, who all mysteriously and unknowingly have some part to play in a womans death"

"Eh, sounds kinda borin. Anyone get banged in there?"

"Banged? As in banged up? Thrown in jail?"

"Nah toots! Like does anyone get fucked!"

"Uhhh....no Angel...it's not that kind of story. It's more a murder mystery"

"Oh come on toots, yah can't find that shit enjoyable? Can yah?"

"Of course I do"

"Eh, well it ain't my style. Say? How come yah don't read anythin dirty? And I nev'ah seen yah bring any guys back to the hotel, or girls, or both!"

"Well.....you said these kinds of books aren't your style...For me....dirty stuff....and 'bringing people back' just isn't my thing"

"..........Huh?! What do yah mean, ain't your thing?! Y/N have you seen yourself?! Your smokin hot! You must've had hundreds of guys want yah when you came down hear! And if this is you when your dead, you must've been even hotter when you was alive"

"That's a very nice thing to say Angel, but like I said, that just wasn't my thing"

"Oh man, that's a real shame. Your fuckin gorgeous"

"Thank you Angel, that's sweet"

You continue to read your book, but Angel just can't seem to take his eyes off you, or your fingers turning the page.

"Yah know.....I work in the...pleasure industry..."

"Your a porn star Angel"

"Same thing! But yah know......I spend most of my days....making people feel all kinds of sexual pleasure.....I make people feel good....really good"

"That's nice Angel, but i'm trying to read hear"

"I know baby...(he takes your book and dangles it above his head) but maybe you need a little break, eh? You know what I think? I just think you ain't had a guy really show yah how good it feels in the bedroom...I could make yah feel....so...so good"

"Angel, I've told you, that just isn't something I'm into. Now please give me my book back"

"Come and get in baby...but you gotta kiss me to reach close enough-"

Suddenly, and without warning, a dark shadow mass manifests behind Angel, taking the book from his hand and throwing it at his head.

"Ow! What the fuck?! Who the fuck did that?!"

That shadow morfs into nonother, than Alastor. He chuckled when he saw Angel rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"God damn it Al! Why'd yah do that?"

"I am quite certain the lady told you she did not want to be persued for any...relations...this was your own doing"

"I was only playin with her"

"And she made it clear she did not want to 'play'. Now, why don't you go find an ice pack for that head of yours, hm? It seems to be swelling, rather exponentially as we speak"

"You'se a fuckin asshole Alastor"

Angel muttered some more rude words about Alastor as he left to go to his room. Alastor on the other hand sat beside you and handed you the book.

"Hear you are my dear. I do hope you haven't lost your page"

"Thank you Alastor. And yeh, I've got a book mark from where I was when Angel came over"

"I sincerely apologise for not intervening sooner. For I was making my way through the upstairs corridor when I heard you both speaking. I heard you politely decline his offer, and yet he still tried to persue you"

"That's just Angel, I'm sure he's tried it on with most people he meets"

"Unfortunately, that is correct. However, I could not stand by and let him continue to push you when you were very clear about your lack of intentions"

"Thank you Alastor...for everything"

"Why, it is my pleasure my dear"

"But Alastor, I really mean that. I won't lie, I've been hoping to talk to you more personally for a little while now. But you've always seemed to be busy"

"Talk to me more personally? What ever for? Oh my, I have not offended you during your time hear have I?"

"No no, not at all. I just wanted to thank you properly for everything you've done"

"My dear, you already thanked me for what happened. And I do believe Angel has a rather impressive bruise to prove it"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Ah...yes, I understand what you are talking about"

"I just want you to know that I'm grateful for your help in bringing me back hear, and helping me when I was at my lowest. I...I understand that I might have ruined your suit?"

"My suit? Oh! From your blood. That was not your fault my dear, it was completely out of your contol"

"Can I at least pay for the damage?"

"Why, absolutely not! I will not allow a lady to pay for something that she does not need to! Like I explained, it was not your fault"

"Yeh, I guess....if you think about it, Adam was technically to blame"

"Adam?"

"Yeh, the angel guy who was with the extermination"

"Oh ho ho! Do you mean THE Adam? Oh my! I did not know you were attacked by him!"

"Yeh. Asshole threw his spear and it went straight through me"

"I see.....well my dear, I do believe you can thank me for helping you"

"Really? How?"

"By telling me your story and how you happened to come across the leader of the angel forces! The angel's fascinate me, and I would love to hear about your first hand experience with Adam"

"Uh, yeh sure"

"Wonderful! Why don't we take a little stroll through the city while we do? I for one certainly hope I do not have to converse with Angel again any time soon"

"Ok, I'll grab my jacket. (Stands up and picks up the jacket on the arm of the sofa) And, while I like Angel as a friend, I don't like being hit on. I'm not really....one of those people who enjoy....you know"

"You mean sexual physical interaction?"

"That's quite specific, but yeh. That's not to say I don't want to be with someone, or share a romantic bond. But honestly, if it's anything further than a kiss, I just don't feel comfortable with that kind of thing"

"May I just say my dear.....I know exactly how you feel"

"You do?"

"Absolutely. Why, I myself have never been fond of that type of physical interaction. But again, just like you, the only thing I may be comfortable with, is a kiss, but it MUST be with someone whome I trust. It cannot be just any woman"

"I won't lie Alastor, it's nice knowing I'm not the only one. Angel is always so proud of his sex life, whereas I felt a little strange, different from everyone else, both in life and the afterlife"

"Well now, you are not alone in that. Now then, allow me to get the door for you. A gentleman should always open the door for a lady"

On your walk around the city, you told Alastor all about your hiding places when the extermination's happened, and about how you did everything in your power to stay out of sight. But alas, this last one was the unfortunate extermination that finaly got you. Explaining to him that the building you were in had collapsed, and you had nowhere to go, with your only choice being to run, run with all the other sinners who were being pursued. And in the end, Adam was picking sinners off, one by one, like it was a game or some kind of target practice. Even Adam's laugh was etched in your memories, you'd give anything not to remember his maniacal laughter. Alastor listened closely to your every word, he never interrupted or judged you, just simply listened along, walking beside you, your arm looped around his.

"My my. You really did have it hard out hear didn't you?"

"It's hell, I assumed it was hard everyday"

"Mhm, quite right. Tell me, are you healing well? Are you in any pain at all? If you need to, I can always check your stitches to see how your healing"

"That's kind of you Alastor, but I'm actually doing alright. It doesn't hurt and I've not had any issues with it"

"Very good, I'm glad"

"Alastor?"

"Yes my dear?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"But of course!"

"Every street we've walked down, every sinner we've passed....they all run away....they all look frightened of you"

"Aha, well I AM the radio demon after all! I strike fear into the hearts of many lifeforms in hell. What kind of overlord would I be if people did not flee in my presence?"

"Yeh, I guess. Hey? Look, someone's walking towards us...oh...and he looks mad!"

"Hm? Where are you looking?......Oh fuck. Do stay behind me my dear, I wouldn't want you to be verbally berated by this obnoxious parasite"

"But who is he Alastor?"

"That, my dear Y/N, is Vox"

Alastor held his hand out in a protective way when you stood partially behind him, he didn't want Vox near you.

"Alastor! You outdated, pathetic fucking prick!"

"Aha! Your vocabulary is as colourful as ever dear Vox. How long has it been since our last interaction? Hm? 7 years?"

"Your damn fucking right! What the fuck are you doing back?! And with Lucifer's kid too?!"

"I am simply offering my valuable services to the princess. She requires help with her cause, and I am giving it"

"I got a bone to pick with you! You cut off all the god damn power when I was live the other day!"

"Oh no my dear Vox, that was not my doing. You were the one who happend to see that I was back, and it was you that was speaking badly against me. All I did was simply put my side across when you were doing your best to paint me in a dark light"

"I said you should've stayed gone! And I meant it! You blew my whole fucking internet connection! All of pentagram city went dark!"

"Ah, but again Vox, that was not my fault. You simply got....how do I put this?...over sensitive? About me being back on the air. And you blew your own internet connection. My radio works perfectly fine without all your gadgets...hense why I still believe that radio is the best and correct way for people to express themselves"

"I'll express your god damn arms from body for that asshole!"

"Ah ah ah...I'm afraid this little dance must be saved for another day. As you can see, I have the pleasure of a young lady's company. And I will not allow you to attempt to throw hands with me, infront of her"

"Lady? What lady? You mean the bitch behind you?"

"Don't you dare call her that! Y/N is a guest at the hotel, and she has shown nothing but respect to all she's met. I would hope you could at least make an attempt at being a gentleman, and show her the same"

"Fuck you Alastor. She's a sinner, why the fuck would I care what I say to her? Look, girl. I don't know who you are, and I quite frankly don't care. I'm hear to talk to this asshole, so why don't you beat it?"

"Say that to my face you wide faced prick!"

You shout in anger. As Vox advanced on you, Alastor was a split second away from punching his lights out. But in that second, you slipped under Alastor's arm, and kicked Vox so hard in the balls, he practically turned to stone. Eyes watering, holding his crotch and shaking in pain, he cried a little as he fell to the floor.

"Oh ho ho! My my, nice shot my dear! I wasn't expecting that from you. I grow more and more impressed with you each time I interact with you"

"Thanks. Mother fucker deserved it. (Looking down at Vox) Don't ever call me that again! You wide faced fuck"

"Ahh...look at him crying in pain, it's a delight to witness it. Come my dear, let me escort you back to the hotel. It's getting rather late after all. (Starts walking away with you) are you hungry? How about I make us some Jambalaya? It's my signature recipe"

As you and Alastor leave the street, Vox just about manages to get onto his knees, staring you both down through bloodshot, tear filled eyes.

"So......you got yourself a friend eh radio bastard? Well.....we'll just see about that...."

The next few days went by quite quick, you spent more time getting to know Alastor, aswell as the other people in the hotel. Pentious was a little strange, but once he was convinced you weren't planning to kill him in his sleep, he soon warmed up to you. Husk was grumpy a lot of the time, but spending evenings at the bar with him, asking him how he is and wanting to learn more about his life, he also warmed up to you too. If you were lucky, Husk would give you a genuine smile. But other than that, you and him would just chat. Days turned into weeks and the strongest bond you had with anyone there, was Alastor. One evening, as you were sat with Angel on the lobby sofas, Alastor came and sat beside you.

"Good evening Y/N, Angel. I trust you both are in good spirits?"

"Eh, not me. I gotta go tah work in a minute. Val's got me doin threeways tonight. And I'm stuck working with these two guys who ain't even got 5 inches between 'um. What's the god damn point? Ah well, at least I ain't gotta worry about holdin my breath for a long time. Anyway, I gotta go, I'll see yas lat'ah"

When Angel walked out, you didn't expect to giggle at the sight of Alastor's shadow, making rude hand signs to him as he left, all while Alastor was sat quietly.

"Does your shadow have a mind of it's own?"

"Hm? Ah, my shadow, I do believe that's a discussion for another time. But for now, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much, just finishing my book"

"Did I hear correctly the other day, that this book was one of your favourites?"

"Yes, it is"

"Dare I ask, why do you keep reading it? Surely you must know what happens, and it can't be as interesting as the first read"

"Well, with some books I agree, but this one is different. Each time I re-read it, I notice a new clue or something I missed the other times, making the whole story change a little, and make me thing about who the real murderer is. I love it! Have you ever read it?"

"Let me see...An Inspector Calls? Nope, I have not had the pleasure of reading that book"

"Well hear, please give it a try. I have a feeling you'll like it"

"Are you sure? This is your favourite"

"Yes, and I've read it many times. Just give it a try, trust me, you'll like it"

"Hm....Alright"

You handed Alastor your book, and when you did, yours and his fingers touched. And strangely, he slightly lingered, not pulling away, and he even avoided eye contact with you, with a blush on his cheeks. He sat back comfortably, reading the first page with curiosity.

"Y/N!"

"Yes Vaggie?"

"Could you come upstairs for a minute? I need help getting Nifty out of the drains!"

"(Chuckle) Sure, I'll be right up!"

Still chuckling a little, you left Alastor to read and made your way upstairs to help Vaggie. Poor little Nifty was so obsessed with cleaning every inch of this hotel, that there were the odd occasions where she needed help being pulled out of the drains and small air ducts. Thankfully, she was absolutely fine, and carried on like nothing had even happened. Vaggie asked if you would mind giving her a hand with other things around the hotel, which you gladly did with her. It was a good couple of hours before you and Vaggie were both finished with your little jobs.

"Aahh, thanks Y/N"

"It's no problem Vaggie, I don't mind helping you out"

"I appreciate it. You can go about your evening now if you like"

"Cool, goodnight Vaggie"

After all those little jobs, you fancied a drink down at the bar before you went to bed. But when you got there, you happened upon a rather interesting sight. Alastor hadn't moved, in fact he was very still....he was fast asleep! In all the time you'd known him, you had never seen him relaxed or fall alseep. He had told you his sleep pattern was all over the place, he'd sometimes go days and nights without it. But hear he was, head floppy, his fingers on the open page of the book, leaning against the sofa, completely out. You couldn't help the little aww that escaped your lips when you saw him, he was so sweet. You didn't want to disturb him, he clearly needed the rest, so instead, you help him get a little more comfortable. Carefully, you slip the book out of his hands, putting the book mark on the page before placing it on the table. Then you delicately slip one hand behind his shoulders, and the other against his neck and cheek. Gently moving him from a sitting position to lie him down, pillow under his head for more comfort. Now that he was lying down, taking the blanket from the back of the sofa, you wrap it around his body, keeping him nice and warm. Standing back to look at him, he was the most peaceful you'd ever seen him, and he still had his smile. How was he able to keep his smile even when he was asleep? It fascinated you. Turning to leave, you quickly turned back and wrote a little note, leaving it in the table beside the book, for Alastor to read when he wakes up. Then you left him, going back to your room and falling asleep in your soft, cozy bed. It was around 3-4 in the morning when Angel came back home, storming through the door and startling Alastor from his slumber.

"Angel! What is the meaning of this barbaric noise?!"

"Ah, sorry smiles! I'm just-hickup...I'm just back from work"

"Your drunk"

"Well, what the fuck do yah expect? I need somethin to stop me from remembering how many guys I fucked tonight. Say? What are yah doing down hear? And was you asleep?"

"I...I must have...dosed off. Don't make something out of it! It was an accident"

"An accident? So yah accidentally fell alseep, with the blanket over yah? And accidentally lead down?"

"No! I....I was reading....and the blanket...(he pulls the blanket to his lap, feeling the soft warm material in his fingers) I did not fall asleep like this....I was sat up...reading"

"Ah well, I frankly don't really-hiccup-really care. I'm gunna go...I'm gunna go tah bed....I need a loooooong fuckin sleep"

Angel stumbled up the stairs to his room, while Alastor was still sat, wondering how he find himself in this way. His eyes glanced at the table infront of him, that's where he sees the book he was reading, bookmarked, and with a little hand written note on top. Taking the note, it read

I didn't want to wake you, you looked like you needed the rest. I've bookmarked your page so you wouldn't loose it. Sleep well. Y/N x

"Hmmm.......how.....interesting......."

When you came down to the lobby the next morning, Angel, Fat Nuggets and Nifty were hanging out at the bar, chatting and getting poured drinks by Husk. But when you looked around, you didn't see Alastor. He wasn't on the sofa, nor was he anywhere to be seen in the lobby. Maybe he woke up in the middle of the night and went back to his room? He must have done, because the book and the note were gone too. Ah well, your sure you'll see him again later today. After a little breakfast and a chat with Angel, you made your way back up the stairs and down the main corridor. Angel asked if you wouldn't mind grabbing Fat Nuggets his harness, as he wanted to take him for a little walk to get some new toys. You didn't mind at all, and you were almost at his room, just a few doors away, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge black tentacle came from behind you, wrapped around your waist, chest and arms, and pulled you down the hall quicker than you could say hazbin. In a scary flash, your pulled down this corridor and let go once it took you to this random.

"What the fuck? What the hell was-A? Alastor? Was that you that just did that? How the hell do you have tentacles?!"

Alastor stood facing the window, not answering or looking at you just yet, and you had no idea why he quite literally dragged you into his room.

"Alastor? Why did you do that? That frightened me"

"......My dear......I do believe that I should be asking what you were doing last night?"

"What? What about last night?"

"When you........you saw me.....in my......vulnerable state......"

"Vulnerable state? What? You mean when you fell asleep on the sofa? What exactly did I do wrong?"

"Nothing....as of yet. My actions were to bring you hear and find out what you are planning"

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N......we are in hell......everyone is out to get everyone.......and I......am the radio demon....."

"Ok? Look, just because there are lots of people in hell who deserve to be hear, doesn't mean everyone is. If you think I'm out to get you in some way, your wrong"

"Oh really?.....(turning to face you) I am a very powerful overlord my dear.....and last night I found myself in a rather unfortunate way. And yet.....I was not harmed....or had anything stolen from me. Which must mean you are planning too.....aren't you?"

".....Wow....you really think I'd do that?"

"Anyone would......I am a demon, a strong overlord-"

"And I don't care!"

"Ah ha...what did you say?"

"Alastor, I don't care that your an overlord, or how powerful you are. And you know what, I genuinely feel bad for you, that you feel like you can't trust anyone. You can't even trust someone to give you a fucking blanket when you fell asleep. Why? Why would I want to harm or do anything bad to the man who I thought I had a genuine connection with, and could even call a friend. I am not out to get you Alastor, if you've forgotten, I wouldn't be hear if it wasn't for you and Charlie, and I will never forget that. All I did last night was made sure you were comfortable, warm, and that you didn't have a bad back when you woke up, that's it! But....it seems that even with me showing you that I trust you, and caring about your wellbeing, it's not felt the same from you"

Turning to the door, you open it and stand in the doorway, looking back at Alastor one last time.

"You may not see it, but there are people in this hotel who genuinely like you, and enjoy your company Alastor......not everyone is your enemy"

And with that, you close the door behind you, going to Angel's room to collect Fat Nuggets harness, just like you were suposed to. Alastor on the other hand, was still smiling, but his eyes changed. He looked out the window, contemplating what he just said to you, and weather he was right in accusing you of doing something to harm or manipulate him in the future. Nearly every single demon, sinner or someone he knew when he was alive was out to get him, or had an ulterior motive. All except his mother before he died, he couldn't find anyone else to trust like that. Or did? And did his accusation towards you, just loose him the chance of learning to trust another person again?

Link to part 2

[papervenom]

✩ chapter fourteen: S.P.E.W ✩

summary: your fourth year starts with the return of the triwizard tournament— and a relationship with cedric diggory that should feel steady, but doesn’t. when harry’s name gets pulled from the goblet, everything shifts. the trio starts to crack, and being with cedric only adds to the tension. you’re sure about how you feel , you love him. but someone else is pulling for your attention, and it’s getting harder to ignore. a slow-burn, character-driven take on goblet of fire, told through your perspective

chapter warnings: heavy sexual tension, intense making out lol, emotional vulnerability & insecurity

word count: 5.7k

INSATIABLE MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

November 16th, 1994

During the few, fleeting weeks after the Inter-House party— Cedric and I had become inseparable.

Every morning, I would find him waiting for me on the other side of the Fat Lady's portrait to walk to the Great Hall together for breakfast. He'd join us at the Gryffindor table and would make sure I was properly alimented before escorting me to my first lesson of the day. 

We made a habit of leaving a few minutes before the bell rang, while the halls were still vacant, because the moment that we were out of our peers' eyesight— we would be on one another.

There'd be a make-out session before his departure for his next class and another in between lessons at the Courtyard with his friends' jeering surrounding us.

Everyone in our proximity became victims to the clingy fervor we felt towards each other, and I could tell it was annoying to most of them. 

My friends, especially.

The Golden Quartet became The Golden Trio once more, since I was rarely around to spend leisure time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

We'd hang out during class, though we wouldn't be able to socialize much then, but as soon as the bell rang— Cedric would somehow already be there, earning a scoff from Ron, an eye-roll from Harry and an exasperated look from Hermione, who thought I was being severely irresponsible with my free-time where I could've been studying. 

But I couldn't care less. 

I was aware that the majority of Hogwarts was growing sick of how inseverable we were, yet I couldn't keep my hands off him.

I was crushing hard on the Hufflepuff who was by far the most handsome guy I've ever known.

Cedric Diggory was a movie-star type of handsome— the kind that people would falter in their step to watch go by. 

He wasn't as tall as Fred or George, and he was a bit slimmer, but he had a finely drawn, sensitive face that managed to be thoughtful and looked like it was carved by angels or Michelangelo himself.

His lively, dancing, bright-grey eyes managed to be gentle and sympathetic and held so much emotion in them.

It wasn't for nothing that he attracted girls like honey does flies.

And he was mine.

Or at least, it felt like it.

We never had much of a conversation about the exclusivity of our relationship, but Cedric didn't shy away from kissing me in areas where anybody could see— tuning out the rest of the world until it was just background noise as we got lost within ourselves.

I couldn't deny that it would be awkward when people would ask when we had made it official, but I wasn't interested in anybody else and neither was Cedric, so that's all that mattered.

As for the Tournament, the next task wasn't until the end of February and neither Harry nor Cedric had even touched their Golden Eggs ever since we heard the disturbing, high-pitched screeching they emitted when they opened them in unison at the party.

They had plenty of time to figure it out, so we all let negligence get the best of us as we grew accustomed to everything returning back to normal. 

Even if it was just momentary.

The beginning of December was looming ahead and it was already bringing wind and sleet to Hogwarts. 

I was always grateful for the castles' never-ending, burning fires and thick walls every time I passed the Durmstrang ship bobbing on The Black Lake or the Beauxbatons caravan, which was likely to be chilly as well.

We had just finished our last lesson of the day and were on our way to the Great Hall for dinner. 

It was at the moment we'd sat down and started filling our plates with food when I noticed that Cedric wasn't beside me, like he usually was. 

Not thinking much of it— I took the opportunity to catch up with my friends.

"Harry, did Sirius answer the letter that you sent?" I asked, knowing that Harry had rushed to send his Godfather an update on his survival from the dragon the morning after the first task.

Harry nodded as he worked on chewing his mouthful of pudding to be able to reply to me when Ron hastily interrupted him.

"Yes. He did. And you would've known if your lips weren't glued onto that plonker's face."

"Ron! What is wrong with you!?" Hermione seethed, glowering at him in my defense but I grinned cheerfully, nonetheless— feeling like absolutely nothing could damper my mood.

"So? What did he say?" I asked Harry again, ignoring my redheaded friend who was evidently upset with me, and Harry soon filled me in on everything.

Sirius was relieved, to say the least, but still reminded Harry to be wary of Durmstrang's Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. 

Ron seemed to have been brought up to date on everything that he missed while Harry and he were fighting, because at the mention of Karkaroff's name— Ron went off on a tangent where he claimed that we ought to have suspected that he had been a Death Eater all along.

"I mean, it fits, doesn't it?" spoke Ron over a mouthful of Pumpkin Juice. He took a big gulp before continuing, "Remember what Malfoy said on the train? About his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup... I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry— if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the Goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now. Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous. How could they be!?" Ron went on. "You know what? I reckon you could win this Tournament, Harry. I'm serious." 

As if on queue, Hermione scoffed at Ron's ignorance and I smiled privately to myself at how predictable my friends were. 

I had missed them so much.

"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this Tournament," she said gravely. "If dragons was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

We all shuddered at the thought— the panic subsiding into my nervous system again, and Ron seemed to notice because he nudged my knee gently and when I peered up at him, he was looking at me worriedly.

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you, Hermione?" spoke Ron accusingly. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

I giggled at the idea of Hermione and Trelawney hanging out and Ron's features seemed to soften once I did, pleased to have gotten me to lighten up as he gave me a dorky smile.

When asking Hermione what she's been up to the past weeks, she told me that she remained occupied with her usual long hours of studying at the library, but then informed me of a new project that she was currently working on.

"Hermione! Stop trying to rope her into that spew shit!"

"I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron —"

"Changed the name, have you?" he retorted, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front?"

The two bickered back and forth as Harry and I shared a look of wary solidarity for one another for once again being caught in the middle of another argument.

"Shut up, Ron. I wasn't even talking to you! I was simply trying to inform (Y/N) about a very critical situation happening in this school, out of all pla—"

"Tell me then," I interrupted impatiently before Ron could quip back at her, "What's going on?"

"Right. So remember that mountain of food Fred and George got for the party? I was curious about how they managed to acquire so much of it, so I asked them," Hermione explained in an innocently casual sort of voice, "And that's when I found out about the House-Elves! The twins told me how to get to the kitchen dungeons, so Harry, Ron, and I went a few evenings ago—"

"Against our will, might I add," Ron muttered and Harry huffed out a laugh.

"And you'll never guess who we saw, (Y/N)! Dobby! Remember we told you about the House-Elf that Harry freed during our second year who used to work for the Malfoys?"

I thought back to the night that Harry caught me up on the two years that I had missed with them back at The Leaky Cauldron and vividly recalled him telling me about Dobby, the abused elf who once lived his days getting kicked around and scorned at by Lucius Malfoy.

"I remember," I replied, letting her carry on with her story.

"He's working here at Hogwarts, (Y/N). Like actually working down in the kitchens. There are House-Elves cooking us countless of food options for the three meals we eat daily, and guess what!? Most of them aren't even getting paid for it! Dumbledore is paying Dobby, because Dobby asked for it— rightfully so, but most of the other House-Elves are so adamant about providing free labor! Oh, (Y/N), I'm just hoping the other elves will see how happy Dobby is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too! So I'm making it my mission to inform others of what's going on in the kitchens. In the meantime, I made these..." Hermione trailed off as she started rummaging into her book-bag.

I waited patiently for her— my interest piqued in whatever Hermione had to show me since she seemed so passionate about the subject when I heard Ron curse under his breath.

"For fucks sake," Ron grumbled.

I searched to see what had made him so grouchy and spotted Cedric entering The Great Hall.

Many of the students erupted in cheers as they spotted their Champion, and some Hufflepuffs were even calling out Cedric's name to get him to join them for dinner— but he just waved them off, making a beeline towards me.

His bronze locks were gorgeously disheveled and his yellow House tie hung loosely around his neck— adorning his exposed collarbones stunningly, as the first few buttons of his white dress shirt were unbuttoned. 

Many of the girls in the Great Hall were giggling and fanning themselves with their hands from how devastatingly sexy Cedric looked— but I couldn't find it in me to take it personally, because I completely understood the sentiment. 

Once the Golden Boy was at my arm's length, I didn't waste a second before jumping into Cedric's arms and giggling girlishly as he spun me around.

He chuckled and set me down so my feet were touching the ground again, and I stood on my tip-toes to peck his lips sweetly. 

I caught Hermione smirking at me from the corner of my eye. 

Harry seemed indifferent to us and Ron was eyeing us odiously and told us to 'get a room'. 

"Looking good, (Y/N)!" a voice called out from somewhere in the Great Hall and I noticed that it was Roger Davies from Ravenclaw and he was sitting up on his chair as his eyes roamed me excitedly.

His friends were guffawing at his boldness but the laughter quickly died in their throats— the reason being Cedric who was glaring at them furiously next to me.

He steered me to my seat, his body blocking me from their view protectively.

It was thrilling to see him become so threatening. 

I didn't think it was possible— with him being so soft and gentle most of the time. 

"I don't know how you can tolerate those imbeciles cat-calling you that way," Cedric mumbled as he pulled out the chair I was previously sitting at for me and took his seat right next to mine. 

He soon began filling my plate generously with baked potatoes before starting on his own.

"It comes with being a woman, unfortunately," I remarked nonchalantly, pouring pumpkin juice into both of our glasses. 

"It's crude," he prompted, his eyes flickering up to glower at the Ravenclaw table. 

"I hate to tell you this, Ced, but most guys our age tend to be a bit crude. I just got really lucky with you," I spoke lowly so only he could hear, watching his face soften as his grey eyes peered down at me.

He grinned and pecked me on the lips.

"I'm sorry I'm late, dove. Snape held me up. Ever since he found out that the Triwizard Champions had been excused from exams this year, he's been persistent in assigning me extra coursework." 

"Of course he has," I sighed. 

My attention was grasped when someone stood up abruptly from the Ravenclaw table and stormed out of the Great Hall. 

I noticed that it was Cho Chang who had just burst into tears and was being followed by her friends who rushed to her aid behind her.

I felt a pang of guilt at the prospect that the sight of Cedric and I had made her so upset.

When I turned to look at Cedric worriedly, I saw that he didn't even seem to notice as he ate his dinner.

"Hello, how are you guys doing?" Cedric greeted my friends, nodding at them politely like the gentleman that he was.

Only Harry and Hermione greeted him back, as Ron became engrossed with his pie. 

"What's in the box?" Cedric asked Hermione, pointing at it. 

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling sheepishly as she seemed to forget that she was holding a box in the first place. 

She took off the lid and showed us the contents. 

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E . W.

Ron snorted as soon as he got a good look at them, earning a nasty look from Hermione. 

"S-P-E-W. What does it stand for?" Cedric asked curiously, picking up a badge and inspecting it. 

"It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I've founded it to promote liberation and rights for House Elves."

 "And you expect us to walk around wearing badges that say 'spew,' do you?" said Ron  

"How many times do I have to tell you, Ronald? It's S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, but it wouldn't fit. So I made that the heading of our manifesto." Hermione said as she pushed the piece of parchment towards us. "I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now. " 

"Hermione— open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!" 

"Our short-term aims," continued Hermione, her attention on Cedric and I as she spoke even louder than Ron and acted as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure House-Elves' fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how can we do all this?" Cedric asked, seeming interested as he pulled Hermione's parchment towards him to read through.

"We start by recruiting members," replied Hermione happily. "Two  Sickles to join, that buys a badge, and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign." 

"How many members have you got?" Harry asked. 

"Well, if you four join, it'll be five members," Hermione replied confidently.

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at all of us, and I was torn between exasperation at Hermione and amusement at the look on Ron and Harry's faces. 

But the silence was broken, not by Ron, who looked as though he was temporarily dumbstruck, but by Cedric who started rummaging his pockets for two Sickles to buy a badge.

"Count me in," he assured as he pushed the coins towards Hermione and pinned the badge to the front of his robes.

After Cedric bought a badge, Harry and Ron felt obliged and also paid their two Sickles, but I felt like they had only done it to keep Hermione quiet. 

I bought mine because I thought the intention Hermione had was good, and although it seemed like the House-Elves didn't care for being liberated, I was curious to see how far Hermione would take this.

Some people at our table, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them.

A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say but were reluctant to take any active roles in campaigning.

Many regarded the whole thing as a joke. 

Cedric spoke to Hermione for a few more minutes about the elves, having some knowledge since the Hufflepuff Common Room was in the dungeons, right across the kitchen. 

He was very polite in brainstorming ways that they could ease the hard work for the elves, and even promised that he'd help them wash dishes before heading to bed, which causes Hermione to grin ecstatically.

Already having finished my supper, my eyes roamed the Great Hall and saw students gossiping and glancing at our direction every once in awhile.

This disinterested me, since I was already so used to it— so I merely stared back at everyone blankly until my eyes landed on the Slytherin table where Draco was sitting, surrounded by his friends. 

They looked like The Last Supper mural, but filled with assholes.

After the party, Draco and I had gone back to ignoring each other with a few occasional glances which always ended in me scowling at him or flashing him the finger.

In other words, everything was back to normal.

One morning, Draco caught Cedric and I kissing right outside of the Potions classroom as he was coming down the stairs to the dungeon. 

He seemed livid— looking unreasonably scornful as he stormed towards us and I was almost afraid that he would tell Cedric about our weird moment at the party, but he just walked past us and went into class.

I felt disgusted with myself for allowing Draco to get so close to me that night.

I don't know what came over me. 

My only conclusion as to why I let it happen was that I wasn't sober.

But ever since that day, Pansy Parkinson had been perched on Draco's lap and slobbering disgusting hickies on his pale neck as he sneered at me.

The sight of them was revolting, but I just hoped that our hostility would last this time around because frankly, I never wanted to speak to him again.

After some time, the Great Hall started clearing up as all the students returned to their Common Room for the night.

Cedric took the liberty to accompany us back to  Gryffindor Towers, and the Champions used the time to inquire each other about their process of figuring out the message hidden within their Golden Eggs while Hermione chimed in with suggestions from some book she read but Ron remained tight-lipped and simply brooded.

When we were standing in front of the Gryffindor Common Room entrance, I lingered behind to have Cedric to myself for a few minutes.

"This was sweet of you," I murmured, toying with Cedric's S.P.E.W badge once the last student had shut the entrance with The Fat Lady's portrait behind them. 

Cedric shrugged, placing his hands on my waist.

"Anything to get on your friends' good side," he smirked and cupped my face with his hands.

"Speaking of— I wouldn't get mad if we didn't spend all of our free time together, Ced. I bet your friends find me intolerable for taking their Champion away from them," I grinned, emphasizing the word 'champion' as I stepped closer to him and combed my fingers through his hair.

"They're more understanding than you think. Have you seen yourself, sweetheart? They're downright envious of me," he muttered before nipping the soft skin of my neck which elicited a giddy laugh from me as I squirmed away from him.

"Look who's talking. How very dare you arrive to dinner looking so despairingly handsome. All the girls' eyes nearly rolled out of their heads— you should show them some mercy," I scolded him humorously, my hands working on buttoning his shirt and tying his necktie.

Cedric hummed nonchalantly in response, attempting to kiss me but I moved my head away from him as I pretended to be too preoccupied with tidying him up— earning a frustrated huff from the Hufflepuff as he leaned on the staircase's banister.

"No one's giving you a hard time anymore, are they?" Ced asked, his demeanor becoming serious as he searched my eyes with genuine concern.

I thought about all the dirty looks I got from girls whenever I walked hand-in-hand with him in the hallways. 

And then I remembered Cho's outburst earlier.

I couldn't pretend it didn't make me feel remorseful.

"Well... someone's always bound to be jealous... but maybe we should cool it with the PDA? I'd hate to make any of your... ex-acquaintances any more upset."

Cedric's eyes softened once I said this— looking at me as if he'd been seeing me for the first time in his life, and then he broke into a dashing smile— his eyes crinkling as he flashed his perfect, pearly white teeth.

"This is one of the many things I love about you, (Y/N). How extraordinarily thoughtful you are. I've never met a girl like you, you're incredible." 

Cedric gushed as he pulled me towards him by my waist and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace to cover up the fact that I was blushing furiously. 

I tried to steady my erratically beating heart after hearing him say 'love'. 

I knew we weren't there yet, but it still felt like a genuine confession, even though he spoke it so casually.

Cedric pulled away from the hug, his large hands nestling my face in his hands before he dove down to crash his lips onto mine.

We both hummed in bliss at the contact, his warm lips gliding over mine softly. 

It was inexplicably passionate, the way that we connected like magnets.

Behind us, I could hear the hushed, gossipy whispers coming from the portraits as they peered down at the both of us. 

But they were inconspicuous to me— my attention enveloped by the way my skin seemed to go ablaze with electric shocks when Cedric pulled me towards him to deepen the already feverish kiss— his teeth tugging at my bottom lip as his tongue proceeded to swipe into my mouth. 

Our tongues were greedily exploring each other when he abruptly pulled away, leaving me breathless.

Both our chests rose and fell as we watched each other in silence, allowing one another to breathe for the first time since he initially kissed me. 

Cedric's hands were clutching my face selfishly, and his lips were pink and swollen, but it was the fervor with which he was looking at me that sent my heart racing so quickly that I was sure it was audible.

I've never been looked at in that way.

I was used to receiving the male gaze on the daily basis, but this look held much more than sexual desire.

Cedric was looking down at me as if I were a dream come true.

"You're fucking beautiful" he murmured before slating his mouth over mine again.

My bottom lip was quickly captured between his warm ones, and the kiss was slow like dripping honey this time. 

The ardor and hunger were still very much prevalent, yet he was taking his time with me—wanting to savor the moment. 

I tried to ignore the butterflies that rioted in my stomach.

I didn't think I could ever get enough of him.

Cedric Diggory was overpowering all of my senses and it was driving me fucking insane.

Yet, I wanted more.

I kissed him back ravenously— combing my fingers through his tousled curls as I pressed my body to his. 

I could feel him smirk against my lips but to my infuriation, he didn't do anything else.

"Ced," I muttered as I clung to his robes. I wasn't sure what I was pleading for, but I needed it desperately.

"(Y/N)..." he mumbled against my lips warningly, trailing his kisses down my neck until we were both sighing— out of breath as we usually were after a few heated minutes with each other.

I looked away in shame, acknowledging that I let myself get carried away until Cedric took my chin and angled me to look at him.

"Hey... look at me," he insisted when I still wouldn't meet his eyes.

When I finally did, all my humiliation evaporated as Cedric looked at me pleadingly, his dark eyebrows furrowing in empathy. 

"I want to. I just... want it to be right, okay? You deserve that."

"Okay," I replied in a small voice, not knowing what else to say.

He stood up from the banister and wrapped his arms around me tightly.

"Also, I don't want you to worry about Cho. I see her at Prefect meetings, and she's doing absolutely fine. I'll see you tomorrow angel, okay?"

"See you tomorrow, Ced. Good night." I replied and floated back to my dorm room on a cloud.

༻✦༺

The next morning, I got woken up by Crookshanks who was pawing at my face repeatedly and as soon as I saw that Hermione was awake, I filled her in on what happened with Cedric the previous night as we both got ready for the day.

I appreciated having her as an audience, because really— she was the only one that I could tell these things to.

She'd sigh dreamily when I told her about Cedric mentioning how rightfully envious his friends were that he was seeing me. 

She'd coo when I brought up the nicknames he gave me like dove, angel or sweetheart.

She'd 'awww' when I added how he softened at my regard for Cho's feelings and told me it was one of the many things he 'loved' about me.

But what really piqued her interest was what happened after.

"(Y/N)! Right outside the hallway!?"

"Nothing happened! We just got carried away, a little bit. He was the one that stopped it and said he wanted to wait for the right moment. Gods, it was so fucking awkward. He probably thinks I'm a sex- freak or something," I groaned, becoming more mortified by the second and quickly buried my face in my hands.

"I promise you, he doesn't. This is completely normal. I'd bet you ten thousand Galleons that he's thought about so much more. He is a guy, after all." Hermione added, smirking at my reaction.

Once we were ready, we descended to the Common Room and met up with the boys.

We had a quick breakfast and then Harry, Ron and I sprinted to the other end of the castle for Double Divination— which became thoroughly enjoyable again ever since Harry and Ron rekindled. 

We were still doing star charts and predictions, but everything became very funny, once more. 

Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with us when we had been predicting our own horrific deaths, became quickly irritated as we giggled through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life.

"I would think," she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, "that some of us—" she said as she stared very pointedly at Harry, "might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. I gazed into its crystalline depths... and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?"

"An ugly old bat in massive specs?" Ron muttered and our whole table fought hard to keep a straight face.

"Death, my dears." she announced and Parvati and Lavender both gasped dramatically, putting their hands over their mouths, looking horrified.

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, nodding appreciatively at their reactions, "it circles overhead like a vulture, lowering itself over this castle..."

She stared meaningfully at Harry, who in turn yawned very obnoxiously.

"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as we finally returned to the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"Maybe you could be the next Gryffindor ghost? Give Headless Nick a run for his money," I suggested and the boys snickered.

"As if he could ever compete with Headless Nick! A lightning-bolt scar is child's play compared to nearly removing your whole head off your neck!" Ron chortled.

"You're right. Harry just has his pathetic little scar," I agreed.

"Oh-kay. Shut up, you two, before I dump you both and make the Hogwarts Ghosts my new friends. Bet they'd show me more respect than you both do,"

"Peeves!? Showing you respect!?" I laughed incredulously.

"Maybe not Peeves," Harry admitted and we all giggled as we went to go pick up Hermione from the library before getting to our Transfiguration lesson.

Once entering, we saw that the library was almost entirely vacant of students.

We found Hermione hunched over her favorite table, doing more House-Elves research— and sitting at a table across from her was Viktor Krum. 

Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum and debating in whispers with us whether he should ask for an autograph— but then he realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

Hermione seemed flustered for whatever reason as we left the library, glancing over at Viktor who was peering at her over the gigantic book he was reading, giving her a small smile.

I raised my eyebrows as I noticed the discreet interaction, and made a mental note to ask her about it later. 

Our task of the day in Transfiguration was to partner up and convert guinea fowls into guinea pigs before shutting them away in large cage that was placed on Professor McGonagall's desk.

Hermione and I were done within ten minutes and were trying to aid Neville who somehow managed to give his guinea pig some scales.

Ron and Harry had finished a few minutes after us, and there was still awhile left for the end of the lesson so they started having a sword fight behind us with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands. 

You could almost hear Hermione roll her eyes as she neatly copied down our homework from the blackboard.

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?" Professor McGonagall's irritated voice suddenly cracked like a whip and both Harry and Ron jumped in their seat and looked up.

The whole class had finished by now, all the guinea pigs squeaking merrily in the cage. 

McGonagall made the cage disappear with a swish of her wand and glared at the boys sternly.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them, "I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching— a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests."

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle as she clapped her hands gleefully. 

Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs and the both of them turned around to look at Harry. 

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock, a week before Christmas Eve, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now, the Yule Ball is of course a chance for all of us to... let our hair down... But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way. We will be having a House dance-rehearsal in just a few weeks,"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class as we sat in silence, processing what she just told us.

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

We were about to leave when Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter— a word, if you please."

Ron, Hermione and I didn't hesitate to follow Harry up to the teacher's desk, and Professor McGonagall didn't protest either— almost as if she had expected us to be in the conversation to begin with.

She waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, "Potter, the champions and their partners—"

"What partners?" interrupted Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly, "your dance partners."

Hermione and I glanced at each other excitedly at the mention of this, but Ron and Harry's faces both seemed mortified at the prospect of having to find dates for the Ball.

"Dance partners?" Ron asked as his face turned the same shade of his hair.

"I don't dance," Harry said quickly.

"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably, making me suppress a smile,"That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the Champions and their partners open the ball."

My heartbeat sped in my chest as I thought of Cedric and I entering the Ball arm-in-arm with everybody surrounding us.

I couldn't help but feel just as giddy at the idea as every other girl in the school.

"I'm not dancing," Harry replied vehemently.

"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

"But I don't—"

"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a definitive sort of way.

It seemed like the news of the Yule Ball was announced to the entire school now, because as soon as we stepped out of the classroom— we noticed the corridor booming with tittering and excitement.

The boys faces were still tinged green but Hermione and I turned to each other and shared a look of pure enthusiasm and immediately set off to the library to research and prepare ourselves for the highly anticipated Yule Ball.

✩ next chapter: scavenger hunt ✩

[kitchenisking]

Guys here's an extra one just cuz ❤️

Kinktober 2021: Tattoo by Jokers_Wild - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,689, sterek)

Stiles has been pulling out all the stops to keep his secret from Derek, just long enough at least for his human body to heal enough for what he has planned. Derek is surprised by the human's motives and declaration towards their relationship, the wolf can only do one thing after that...Claim him.

Like this Forever by EvanesDust, Winchesterek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 96,956, sterek)

“What the hell is a Stiles?”

“That would be me,” came a voice from close by. A guy, Stiles, walked up to them. He was almost as tall as Derek, with a smile on his face, his hair a little mused but at a professional length with moles freckled across his skin. Stiles was broad-shoulder and slimmer at the waist, dressed in casual clothing with a bag slung over his shoulder. He held a to-go cup holder in one hand.

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles continued. “And I got your coffee on my way in since I was stopping by anyway.” He took a cup out of the holder and held it out to Derek.

Derek stood frozen for a moment before taking the cup. It smelled like his normal order from Starbucks, a white chocolate mocha. Though it was overpowered by the scent of something woody and fresh, and also…motor oil? It was the oddest combination but also weirdly calming since it reminded him of home and the preserve.

***

Or the one where Stiles is Derek's personal assistant at Hale Incorporated, and they fall in love.

Only Fools Do What I Do by CharWright5 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 110,423, sterek)

It had seemed like a simple plan, a way for everyone to get what they want: pretend to be Bond-Mates so Derek could get the teaching job he wanted, while Stiles didn't have to face living with a total stranger at college and have it be known that he was suffering from night-terrors. Only things weren't that simple. Because they were Mates, a fact Derek was hiding due to Stiles' determination not to have one and his need for independence, as well as his Alpha-aimed anger at his lack of freedom. But the longer they live together, the more Derek finds himself falling for the Omega, and the harder it is for the Alpha to resist the alluring scent of his Mate.

You're everything a big bad wolf could want by TheBeastsWrite (orphan_account) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,812, sterek)

Stiles is dressed as little red to help isaac make scott jealous but it makes his mate derek jealous ad outdoor claiming sex persues don't judge me.

Enticing by DevilOfWire - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,034, sterek)

Stiles is just doing what most young men do on their beds alone at night when he realizes his innocent moans brought a certain monster into his room, one who’s more than happy to call him out as the slut that he is.

What I Want by zynnser - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15,079, sterek)

It’s not his best comeback ever, but in his defense, most of his brainpower is going towards thinking about exactly what it is Stiles has been practicing with. For months. 

Or the one where Stiles wants to ride Derek's alpha form but has trouble asking for what he wants.

Mama Please by Parkkrys - (Rating: Mature, Words: 20,699, sterek)

Claudia gave up hunting to marry Noah and so far no regrets. Yes, it irks her that Noah is friends with the Hales, but she had been able to put it to the side. 

Now after having twins, she struggles with watching lil Stiles and Derek grow closer, and now at the age of eighteen Derek reveals that Stiles is his mate. Something in her snaps and she leaves to the Argents for help. She wasn't expecting her lil boy to be a spark though.

Now years later, she knows her baby boy is married to Derek and she is determined to set him free no matter the cause.

Down the Rabbit Hole by orphan_account - (Rating: G, Words: 3,953, sterek)

His hind paw catches on a rock and he goes down, crashing onto his stomach, the wind abruptly forced from his lungs. He tries to scramble to his feet – paws, whatever – but he can already sense a large figure hovering over him, trapping him in. He makes a break for it anyway, though, desperately trying to escape, but a large muzzle with rows of sharp teeth is already descending on him and –

– and Derek Hale is going to eat him to death. And not even in a sexy way. Then Derek finally will become a murderer, and his dad will have to identify his body by scraping bits of his rabbit intestines off of Derek’s wolf-y canines.

All because he didn’t warn his werewolf friends off from their usual late night hunts, because then he’d have to admit that he’s a fucking wererabbit.

I'm the ghost of my mistakes by GreyHaven - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 29,696, sterek)

Stiles hasn't been known as Stiles for the past six years. He's Mitch Rapp, a CIA assassin with 117 kills under his belt. When he gets a late night call from Scott, saying Derek has been taken, he's on the road back to Beacon Hills in less than ten minutes. He's going to get Derek back, even if that means adding a few more kills to his ledger.

An American Assassin/Teen Wolf fusion. Rated E for violence which is canon typical for AA but might be considered extreme for TW. If you're familiar with the plot of AA, please be assured that no female or beloved TW characters have been fridged in the making of this fic and pairing.

Magic Matters by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 20,314, sterek)

Stiles wouldn’t say that he had moved on from the pack, but he had not spoken to any of them in years. After the Ghost Riders, Stiles never found his place in the pack. After a few years and a dozen more fights, Stiles decided to blaze his own path. He made a name for himself as a magical fixer. Every week, he received thousands of emails requesting his help, so he didn’t know why he decided to aid a coven in South America to create a treaty with some hunters in the area. He knew there was a chance he would run into Derek, so it didn’t really surprise him that he did. He was surprised, though, when the magical bond flared up between them, seemingly aided by the magic of the coven, but what really surprised him was Derek’s lack of reaction

[ztarfallz]

Doodle World Awesome Squad from my Mind Palace 👾👾

Design Explanation Paragraphing under the cut !!!! Where I really talk about the how and why of it all ^<^

So excited to post this !! I do hope ye all like it, I was super excited seeing people like/reblog my last post as I've felt a little awkward posting Doodle World art just due to not knowing anyone else who played the game eeeekk.. BUT these are my 'headcannons', I guess you could call them; for the main Doodle World group !!!

> Suzie : The shortest of the group at 5'2"!! Due to the body type used for her in-game, I have always pictured her as being on the bigger side!! Her hair is like a Jellyfish cut, if you guys are familiar with that. Or.. well that's how I interpret what is happening. And I think she looks totally cutieful <3 I draw her with blue eyes for reasons unknown to myself, I have just always given her blue. Her pants are worn/faded at the knees and slightly frayed at the end. Her footwear is closer to boots than runners!! She is in-game, shown to be closer with the player, and that stays to be true in my version of them also.. I think they would have matching friendship bracelets...

> Quincy : Second tallest at 5'7.5" [didn't originally care about the .5, until it was a way to one up the player]. Got rid of those awful glasses he wears... please take them off Quincy.. gave him regular white frames specs instead!! He is a little blind. Also grey-ish eyes?? Again no reasoning. Is on the slimmer side in my mind, not much muscle, because I believe he was a sheltered, rich kid who didn't have to do much- until this adventure, of course. His outfit also doesn't make much sense for travel because well.. I don't think he really expected all this running around we have been doing. His shoes are bright white, and his jeans look brand new. His shirt is pressed !!! ..He has grown on me a lot I can't lie, I never disliked him, though.

> TJ : Tallest of the group!! 6'0"!! He has always just felt tall to me.. maybe that is crazy. He has wider shoulders that sort of replicate his in-game model, as opposed to Quincy, I do believe TJ has worked out/exercised at times :P His outfit is more relaxed, I debated with sweatpants for a while, I do think baggy jeans suit but either or make sense to me. The knees of his jeans are slightly worn, his hoodie is definitely bigg and comfy, and his shoes are definitely made for maximum comfort and running around. Hair change going off model simply because I like this style a lot more, and I think it suits him really well, and then brown eyes !! He also has thicker eyebrows than Suzie and Quincy, no major reason I just think thick eyebrows rock !!!1

And finally, not really necessary;

The Player! Or in this case

> Jay : Standing at 5'7" to replicate myself, Jay is a mix of me and my roblox avatar in looks. She has broader shoulders, which are very much hidden under the baggy hoodie. She also has thicker eyebrows, matching TJ. His outfit is similar to Quincy's on the pure coincide of that is what my avatar was wearing when I first joined Doodle World and finding it funny, I've kept the matching rival outfits since. Despite the similarity to Quincy's clothes, Jay's are very much perfect for this adventure (the main reason being the jumper shirt combo is fake!! It is one item of clothing... he has been lying to you). The jeans are baggy, worn, faded, and fraying in places- but the extra pockets really do come in handy at times. Also a glasses wearer!! As I'm very much far from 20/20 vision.. and of course; train track braces !!! Let's goo !!!!

Well, that has been an absolute ramble session !! I hope that made sense if you did read all that. I mainly just wanted to explain how I see the characters and my reasonings, if any.. behind why. Especially if I want to post more artwork of them all :D!!!

[fulgurbugs]

It’s time for another doll review!

today, i’m unboxing venus mcflytrap, the newest in the series of core students for monster high g3. she’s been showing up in targets sporadically, though my targets tend to be late on the pickup so i ended up ordering her for delivery as soon as she was up on the website.

she was delivered a few days early and i sent her to my moms house, so i was dying to go back there to open her up for those few days. here’s her in box! she’s quite tall, though without an abbey to compare im not sure if she’s about the same size as her?

freed from the box! once again the star jar is my prop-up instead of a proper stand, though venus is actually sturdy enough to stand on her own without too much trouble.

of course we’ll take a look at the shoes. g3 loves a gradient boot, and i’m a fan here. the look like concrete planters before they fade to pink, and the teeth are just hilarious.

the vines are rubbery and removable. the bottoms of them have a peg that secures them to the boots.

another detail i wanted a close up on is venus’s molded vine details. i love that g3 is going more in with the monsterey details, and these are awesome. they peek out just above her mismatched legging pieces

the face: venus’s mold and makeup are both great. instead of the shaved side of her g1 version, she has molded braids, which still give her that asymmetrical look. her ear mold also has a leaf look to it as well. her hair is some kind of yarn, i believe. i’m not sure how durable the ends are, though, so i may see if there’s a need to seal them to preserve them. (in addition, one minor defect i have seen people have with their venus rooting is that the larger yarn plugs seem to sometimes tear her scalp slightly, so it may be something to check for if you’re buying her in person.) i’m a very big fan of the black features they’ve added to venus this generation, which i think has been the general consensus on her design that i’ve seen online. her reception has been overwhelmingly positive, and she is the doll that has many people warming up to g3. and id have to agree! i’m a little picky with what dolls i want (unless they’re draculaura dolls, lol) and she was an instant note on my wantlist as soon as those stock photos were out.

accessories! venus comes with a clear open backpack, icoffin, energy bar, water bottle, a hair product bottle (if someone knows specifically what product it is please let me know, im not sure off the top of my head), sunglasses shaped like venus flytraps (of course) and her pet, chewlian.

chewlian is well… definitely a pet! he does come out of the pot, though. i said this in a previous review, i think core lagoonas, but i’m continually baffled and amused at the ability of g3 to turn every pet into a dog or cat version of it. while the pets have never been a draw for me, this is just comical. i think i’ll stick by a previous joke i made that chewlian just ate someone’s dog, and that’s why he looks like that.

the backpack can hold one (1) chewlian or all of her other accessories. something about the way this backpack sits on her or the silhouette or something is awesome to me, i love it a lot. it’s super cute, and i want to display her with the bag instead of storing the backpacks like i usually do.

one last little thing, while i don’t have abbey, my draculauras, or even twyla to compare her too, i think venus is about abbey height, though i think she’s got a slimmer body and hips. here’s her next to frankie. venus also uses the clawed hand mold.

of course, we have to have the obligatory .5 shot

and that’s venus! one last note i want to make is there’s been a lot of fomo around her, but i want to remind people she is going to be widely available as abbey and clawd are. she is going to stick around for a long time compared to other lines, so there’s no need to pay scalper prices for her (i know i say this as someone who bought her as soon as i could, but that was as soon as i could for strictly retail price. i’m just saying i get it, lol.)

i also recognize that that’s a bit america-centric, but she also did start showing up in person in the UK before the US, so hopefully her international release isn’t as frustrating as other lines and characters.

thanks for reading! big g3 venus fan now and forever, and i’m excited to see her eventually show up in other lines, too!

[thescribblings]

Hi i sat down to make a 30 minute funny haha sketch of cryptid Orion but it turned into like a 4 day piece with a whole ass story behind it instead, i made an AU of my AU, this image would take place about forty years after the future timeline portal to send Casey back in time

My AU SFFL(WG) Is a little special in a sense that the turtles are going to live closer to 120 rather than die sometime around 80.

Really long infodump under the cut

I'll be reffering to the Orion in the new AU as Leon, and SFFL(WG) Orion as, well, Orion. Akari is my future Donnie and Atlas is my future Raph.

I think ima call it ''It all went according to plan'' since, well, this is the outcome if Orion never got sneak attacked in the base that day, those claw marks never happened, everything went smoothly, they sent Casey junior to the past just like they planned.. then they didn't know what to do with themselves, the will to fight died out, they'd done it! alright, cool. what now? what happens after the end? there was nothing to fight for anymore.

This does not mean they gave up, however

Now, why does he look so different? that would be a secondary muation triggered by excess radiation, Orion did have a secondary mutation as well, which led to his teeth changing, he had some crowding and his new teeth were digging into his gums, but Akari helped with that, fixed him up. it gave him a tail, something none of his brothers have, it also affected his height, and his eyes. he's by no means the tallest of his brothers at 7'4, but all of their heights were.. well, exaggerated due to the radiation all around them, especially Leon, his height is a solid 9'1. Orion's eyes used to be brown, which you would be able to see if i ever drew lil Leo, but Leon doesn't have irises or pupils anymore, no, it's all just that bright, radioactive blue now.

So, as you can see he's a bit less.. humanoid than Orion, more exaggerated proportions, segmented shell, a slimmer and longer neck, much longer tail, his nails turned to talons- hell, he grew new talons on his heels, and spikes sprouted by his knees and elbow. his talons and spikes are protruding bones, yes, his bones sprouted out of his skin, they have a keratin coating on them very similar to his shell.

Those blue glowing markings are just straight up due to radioactivity, Orion also has them but they only appear when he's around something radioactive, he's basically a living geiger counter. Meanwhile Leon has them visible permanently.

Now, his body (thanks to Draxum) was designed to be able to withstand large amounts of radiation without getting sick, but he didn't account for almost sixty years of non-stop radiation exposure. As you can see he's crying, that's a bit odd, right? why's it blue? that would be his body's way of filtering out excess radiation, he is perpetually crying straight radioactive material. you also might have noticed his mouth from that close-up, its right side is dislocated and the cheek is torn from something getting tired of hearing him whistling to keep himself entertained a few years ago, it shut him up.

You might also have noticed his blade, it's.. kinda hard to miss, lmfao. it's about as long as he is tall, and it actually has a name, he named it 'Hope'. as you can see the handle is wrapped with his, Akari's and Atlas' masks, it's not very visible but his scarf is also tied around the base of the blade in favor of wearing it, he also used parts of the Raph prosthetic to reinforce it. Here's the blade on its own

When Casey went through that portal, no one dared follow him in fear of crashing the timeline, Casey decided to give his hockey mask to his remaining family- to Leon- as a parting gift of sorts. he wears Casey's mask around his neck to keep it safe, also as a way of remembering, he can look at the memories and data stored within it anytime his memory gets fuzzy.

His thigh prostetic is exposed, the silicone sleeve acting as replacement skin stopped fitting many, many years ago. more of his natural muscle became exposed to help accomodate his added height, along with some of the nanotech retreating into his replacement femur to make it grow with him, leading to that thigh being a bit slimmer than it otherwise would have been. there is also a bit of a blue glow from the back of his throat, which is another sign of his body having an overabundance of radiation.

If you know anything about my AU SFFL(WG), you should know that Orion has a thing called survival mode, this is an instinctual state his body entered when he didn't have enough to eat, drink or enough time to rest, for that matter. his ninpo started sustaining him, removing his hunger, his thirst, and his need for sleep. eventually draining his nipo completely, then he couldn't use it anymore (until he got to the present and they managed to convince his body that it was safe again), he spent around 11 years unable to portal or reach out to his ancestors. it came with side effects and consequences of course, and this is something that just kept getting worse for Leon, having been in survival mode for around 49 years, he basically doesn't eat at all anymore unless he stumbles upon something mildly edible, mildly edible is usually something alive. he has nothing to drink and he has nowhere safe to sleep.

He's in a lot of pain from the changes his body went through, and his whole jaw situation definitely doesn't help with eating.

Mentally, he's very vacant. He is still there, still intelligent, he just needs safety to really.. come back, i suppose.

I think that covers the basics of this side AU i made, that is all

Have nice day

[gblogg]

I’ve decided to update my blog a little, maybe this’ll make me more active? Idk 🤷‍♀️ so here are appearance descriptions, jobs and sexualities of my OCS!

Ezme - 24: She has long, reddish brown hair and her eyes are greenish blue. She has a slim build with slightly wider hips, she goes to the gym regularly but also does Pilates to stay in shape. She is a tattoo artist so she has about 8 small tattoos and 4 bigger ones and still wants more (I’ll get into detail eventually). Although she would seem to be on the taller side she’s actually 5’0 so pretty tiny and cute. She has two lobe piercings and one helix piercing, she may want to get more in the future but is unsure right now. Ezme is bisexual.

Luna - 25: She has short brown hair, is naturally blonde but has dyed it since she was about 17, she also has beautiful blue eyes that are more on the cooler side. She is small and curvy more on the hourglass figure side, her height being 5’7 and she doesn’t do any form of exercise except going on walks sometimes with Daniel as he is more active. She owns a bakery, makes her own pastries and other baked goods. Luna has 6 piercings, 4 lobe ones on either side, a belly button piercing and she used to wear a nose ring. She recently stopped wearing it as it would get infected too much. Luna is bisexual.

Rose - 26: She has very long, dirty blonde hair that reaches past the middle of her back, her eyes are green but they sometimes look blue in the light. She takes very good care of her hair and has always kept it this long. Rose also has both her ears pierced and wants to get a nose piercing but is scared of how it’ll look. She has never thought of cutting it but if it starts getting damaged she will, because its so long she hardly ever wears it down. She is taller and on the thicker side, but her height makes her seem slimmer (5’9). She has 2 jobs at the moment, one being a waitress at a popular restaurant but she also helps out her mum with fashion designing. Rose is a lesbian.

Nico - 24: Nico has brown hair that reaches down to his neck as he has a slight mullet, he wants to cut it shorter but Phoenix forbids him to and he has greenish brown eyes. To go with this, he has his ears pierced but hardly remembers to wear his earrings. Nico is a piano teacher for children and teenagers, he has to have an easy job due to his ulcer disease having flare ups. He used to play so many instruments but recently stopped (he can also sing). Nico is quite tall being (6’0) and he has a longer, skinny build which is due to him being sick most of the time, however this man can EAT even though his food choices are limited. This guy is BLIND blind so he absolutely has to wear his glasses no matter what, for reading, writing everything. Nico is gay.

Daniel - 26: He has short brown, curly hair and light brown eyes just like his brother phoenix. Daniel is a preschool teacher. He absolutely loves kids and loves his job even though kids are bacteria magnets. He is 6’2 with a slim muscular build with a slight tummy, which he embraces. He has no piercings as he is terrified of needles and would never go anywhere near one. Daniel is straight.

Phoenix - 24: Phoenix has mid length brown hair and light brown eyes, he is more muscular and slimmer than his brother and he makes sure to maintain his weight and go to the gym regularly. He is a graphic designer and he loves his job as that is the only time when he can truly be expressive and himself. Phoenix is about 5’11 or taller but is shorter than his boyfriend. He wears one earring but takes it out when he is working, keeping it for special occasions.

Okay, I got a little carried away but here it is! If anyone has questions about this, feel free to ask :)

[starsinkpop]

ATEEZ Jeong Yunho Tarot Reading - Future Spouse

Disclaimer: I do tarot readings for fun, so please read them with a grain of salt. Don’t take my words too seriously and just keep an open mind. Tarot is a divination tool that can’t predict the future, as every single individual has their own will and makes their own decisions. Tarot should be seen as a guidance and a good friend that just has your best interest and gives you advice when needed. I’m not putting anyone in my readings on a pedestal nor am I trying to harm anyone. One last side note, I’m not a native speaker, so please excuse any wrong spellings or poor grammar.

Date of Reading: October 10th 2023

Decks: Ethereal Visions Tarot, Wild Mystic Oracle, Dreamscape Oracle, Romance Angel Oracle, Love Oracle, island time wellness love Oracle, Angel Answers Oracle Cards

Six of Cups, XXII The Well, Eight of Wands, XVI The Tower, Eight of Cups, Six of Wands

his fs could be someone he knows from the past, maybe they’ve been friends in kindergarten or early school days

could also be just someone he had a connection with in a past life

definitely someone who has a pure, almost innocent side to them

very playful and carefree aura most of the time

they bring a lot of joy into Yunho’s life

pretty artistic, could even be famous for their art

they maybe work as an architect or have some type of obsession with buildings

definitely well known and well respected in their working field but also amongst friends and family because they’re extremely ambitious

success always finds a way to his fs

they’re a very nurturing personality who love to take care of others as well

a natural leader

hard to say if they’re introverted or extroverted - maybe somewhere in between

it’s someone who constantly seeks new knowledge in a way

because their brain needs permanent stimulation to be happy and satisfied

great communicators

but will know when to keep quiet

I also feel like this is someone you can sit together with in silence without it being weird

they are very well balanced, can be chaotic when they want to but also very collected and calm when needed

probably avoid conflict

they maybe reject Yunho a few times before properly dating him

but not necessarily because they don’t like him or anything, it’s more like they want to enjoy the single life first and really want to focus themself and on having fun

they respect boundaries and will always make sure that their loved have boundaries and don’t just get run over by others

they’re very emotional and empathic

but they sometimes have emotional outbursts, this mainly happens when they’re very stressed

they’re generous with their love and time

it’s someone with a genuine heart

they love changes since they could get easily bored

will constantly reconstruct their life until they’re fully satisfied (which is never tbh)

they have no problem leaving behind what doesn’t serve them anymore

they love to workout and are very active

could maybe be into extreme stuff like bungee jumping or something like that

at times they’re easily confused

daydreamers, they need to let their mind drift away from reality sometimes

they have a hard time settling down in one place

loves to travel

they don’t like to ask others for help, a very independent individual

could have dark hair and there’s something about shoulders, like they have very pretty shoulders

have a confident aura, which is attracting many people

I see a lot of passion in this connection, but they’re generally someone very passionate

they’re very sensual

Yunho and his fs actually have an insane chemistry

lots of romantic feelings in this connection and they most likely will have kids together (probably two)

they’re tall but smaller than him and maybe on the slimmer side

Love,

~Nicky 🫧

Masterlist

[sephirthoughts]

Just Like Honey: Chapter 12

Summary:

****WARNING WARNING WARNING**** THREATENED SEXUAL ASSAULT HOMOPHOBIC SLURS DON'T WORRY THO THEY GET THEIR COMEUPPANCE WITH A QUICKNESS

NOTE: "fag" also used once, in reference to the British boys' school fagging system, in which younger students would do housework and other chores for the older students.

AU: organized crime, cabaret, sex work

SHIPS: MULTIPLE! rufus/cloud, vincent/cloud, sephiroth/cloud, reeve/cloud, rufus/cloud/tseng, cloud/other characters as clients because that's his job, weiss/nero, background aerti

RATING: teen and up

WARNINGS: violence, homophobic slurs, and references to sexual assault, sex workers, prostitution

ALSO WARNING: vincent wearing this outfit, which may be hazardous to your health/sanity

Chapter 12: Clouderella

Wutai’s upper crust tended to take a lot more joy in dressing in beautiful and extravagant clothing, than did the elite in Midgar, where the staid, black tuxedo was the standard for men’s formal wear. What would have been considered flamboyant and ostentatious, there, would not even be enough to stand out, in Wutai.

And yet, when Cloud and Vincent emerged from their limousine, at Da-chao Palace, they managed to turn just about every head in the place. There was an actual beat of hushed awe among the crowd of splendidly clad guests. Even the uniformed guards and smartly dressed servants couldn’t help stealing glances at the two beautiful gentlemen.

Vincent was rakishly elegant, like some sort of pirate king, with his long hair flowing loose about the shoulders of his gorgeous, crimson-brocade frock coat, trimmed with sable fur. His waistcoat and trousers were of the same fabric, and his shirt was black silk. In place of a cravat or tie, he wore heavy chains of antique gold, which complemented the brass toe-guards on his riding boots, the brass buckles on his thigh holster straps, and the brass epaulet he wore on one shoulder (denoting his position as head of a noble house, of the nation of Wutai).

Cloud’s outfit was similar to Vincent’s, but had been chosen to serve as its counterbalance, rather than to match it. His brocade was snowy white, his buttons and fittings were silver, rather than brass, and his frock coat was slimmer and shorter, to look best on his smaller frame (and without fur trim, which he objected to wearing in this warm climate). Rather than riding boots, he wore white, ankle-high button up boots, and a pearl-grey charmeuse cravat, instead of gold chains.

When the two walked the red carpeted receiving line together—one tall and black haired, all in blood red, and the other petite and golden-haired, in shining white—the effect was extremely striking.

The Valentine Patriarch was a prominent figure, so the whole place was immediately abuzz with curiosity, regarding the origin of the young unknown, who had managed to endear himself to the famously prickly and unapproachable man. No matter how much they asked one another, though, all anyone found out for certain was that no one else seemed to know who he was, either. Naturally, speculation ran rampant.

“I heard someone say he was sent to the Valentines as a child concubine, and they’ve been raising him in isolation, until he was old enough to accompany the patriarch,” said a young lady, behind her silk fan.

“That’s ridiculous. Who has concubines anymore,” another sniffed.

“Just look at that blonde hair and those blue eyes,” a third remarked wistfully. “I bet he’s a Shinra scion, who defected to the Valentine side, for love of the dashing and handsome Lord Valentine.”

“Ah, but isn’t Lord Valentine your fiancée, Princess Kyrie?” said a tall, lilac-clad young woman, with a hawk nose and a patrician air about her, who appeared to be the leader of this clique. “What ever is he doing escorting a young man to the ball? Shouldn’t he have come with you?”

The princess, who was standing nearby, blushed as pink as her gown and shot the lilac girl a glare.

“A lot of unmarried gentlemen attend with male friends, instead of a date, it doesn’t mean anything,” one of her own retinue retorted, in her stead.

“I heard he’s also refused to see her highness, even once, since he’s been visiting Wutai,” one of the lilac girl’s followers rejoined, with a pout of sympathy. “I do hope he hasn’t had second thoughts.”

“Lord Valentine is the head of a very important clan. There are plenty of perfectly valid reasons he might be indisposed,” another of the princess’ faction defended.

“Too true, too true,” the first young lady tittered, fluttering her fan. “If I had a lover who looked like that blonde boy, I’d certainly never leave the house.”

The lilac girl and her companions all laughed merrily at that, while the infuriated princess turned on her heel and flounced off, with her retinue in tow. Her intended had already embarrassed her, by declining to accompany her as her escort, and now he even had the gall to show up with a man. That was tantamount to deliberate public humiliation! Not that there was anything she couldn’t forgive him for, but this would require a very good explanation.

Not even the most colorful among the stories about the mysterious boy, that were invented and repeated that evening, touched anywhere close to the truth—that he was a gymnast turned cabaret-dancer prostitute, from the backwoods of Nibelheim, via the Midgar undercity slums.

His aristocratic good looks figured heavily into this, of course, but most convincing of all, was the fact that the boy was so graceful and at ease, around all these rich and powerful people. No one who hadn’t been born and raised among the gentry could be so effortlessly charming, when confronted with the rank and class of several nations.

The more those envious people watched the little upstart, hoping for him to slip up, the more they found that his manner was flawless—neither stiffly formal nor overly familiar, neither obsequious nor arrogant, and his face carried no hint of either trepidation or over-eagerness to please. If one didn’t know better, they’d think he was hosting guests in his own home, so impervious he seemed, to the relentless scrutiny.

What they did not know they were seeing, of course, was the carefully crafted stage persona of a highly skilled, veteran performer, who spent his life as a professional chameleon, shifting flawlessly into whatever role the situation required of him. Had they known the real Cloud, they would have been less baffled by his unflappable composure.

This was, after all, the young man who had fearlessly slapped President Shinra across the face, in his own office, who dared to be contrary and demanding with the Valentine Patriarch, and who was able to weather the violent and volatile temper of the psychotic, drug-addicted leader of the Remnants, unscathed.

Far from being afraid that a few rich people with fancy titles stuck to their names would judge him, Cloud was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to trot out his rarely used urbane-dandy character (which he had developed for a client with some very specific tastes, and was based loosely on several of the more famous homosexual socialites of the prior century).

Everything about his mannerisms, turns of phrase, and costume, was tailored specifically to fit this character. He had even had a silver cigarette lighter and matching case, filled with long, black cigarettes borrowed from Vincent, to complete the impression. Thus, what Cloud performed, the people at the ball saw—which was a sophisticated young elite, in his native environment.

The formal presentation to the Wutaian monarch was far briefer and less harrowing than Cloud had expected. King Godo was a bluff and gregarious old man, who had too many people clamoring for his attention, to be overly inquisitive regarding the young beauty on the arm of his guest of honor.

Vincent had just been greeted by some important whoevers of whatever country, when Cloud heard a shriek, and turned to see a young lady hurrying over, pushing people out of her way in her haste. He was instantly spellbound by this creature, who appeared to be a mass of contradictions, from head to toe.

Her dress was a poofy, pink confection of satin and flounces and ribbons, much like a little girl might wear in a fairytale, only the bodice was extraordinarily low-cut. As she trotted over, her ample, half-exposed bosoms bounced and jolloped in such a way, that it seemed it was only the will of the heavenly Dao that prevented them escaping entirely.

She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, and was pretty enough, but her features were somewhat spoiled by her overdone makeup (in the grand tradition of teenaged girls attempting to look older), and the gaudy jeweled tiara, that topped her stiffly curled hair, was more ridiculous than enchanting.  

She shoved right past Cloud, as if he wasn’t there, and stood in front of Vincent, all bright smiles and blushing cheeks, and big, doe-eyes only for him. Cloud concealed a smirk behind his champagne glass.

“Vincent, Vincent! I had a feeling I’d see you here!” the girl enthused, as if it were a chance meeting, and not a party given specifically in his honor. “Agnes said you might not come, but I was sure she was wrong, and here you are!”

“Your highness,” Vincent replied, with an infinitesimally slight dip of his chin, smoothly withdrawing his hand, as she attempted to grasp it. “I trust her majesty the queen is well. Is she not with you?”

Cloud’s smile widened imperceptibly. If he had greeted someone the way this girl just did, and received a response like the one she’d gotten from Vincent, he’d have left the party straightaway and committed seppuku, to spare his ancestors the shame he’d brought on them.

This young lady, however, had a much thicker face than Cloud, and didn’t even appear to notice the older man’s frosty reception of her effulgent greeting. It was almost impressive, the way she let Vincent’s barely concealed disdain roll off her, like water from a duck’s back.

“Oh, you know grandma,” she said breezily. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere, talking politics with some councilman or another. Old people are so boring, who knows they even come to these things. Parties are for fun and dancing! Speaking of dancing, have you—”

“Your highness, allow me to introduce my date,” Vincent interrupted, gesturing around the animated young woman, to Cloud. “This is Cloud Strife. Cloud, Her Royal Highness Princess Kyrie of Junon.”

“An honor, your highness,” Cloud replied, with a languid half-bow, as the princess shot him a look of mingled disgust and resentment, then turned back to Vincent, without acknowledging him.

“What’s going on, here, Vincent?” she demanded, sounding like a wronged wife. “Who is this boy?”

“His name is Cloud Strife, your highness,” Vincent repeated, while Cloud looked amused and took a sip of his champagne.

The girl’s face quickly worked through a couple expressions, then she settled on a smile, playfully tapping Vincent’s arm with her fan. “Vincent, you goose, this is the royal palace. You can’t have your footmen hanging around, in the main ballroom. There’s a banquet set up for the help in the back courtyard.”

“Cloud is my date, your highness,” Vincent said, unperturbed, reaching past her to take Cloud’s hand and pull him to his side. “It was lovely seeing you again, but I’m afraid we’ll have to catch up some other time. I was just on my way to greet the delegation from Kalm. Give her majesty my best.”

Before the princess could even think of a response, her intended husband had absconded, with the blonde boy on his arm.

She planted her hands on her hips and very nearly stamped her foot in pique, but she noticed several people glancing over, and murmuring amongst themselves. Eyes reddening and bottom lip trembling, she hurried away to rejoin her friends.

Within a minute, she had gathered her loyal supporters in the ladies’ powder room, where she sobbed pitifully while she gave them a full (and somewhat embroidered) account of how she’d suffered, at the hands of the scheming, blonde mate-sniper.

“Lord Valentine is obviously just playing around,” one of her friends soothed. “It’s not like he’s going to marry a man. The clan will never allow it.”

“True,” another agreed. “He can’t give him children, and the clan patriarch has to produce heirs. Everyone knows that.”

“Besides, you’re the crown-princess,” a third chimed in. “That boy is just some nobody. Lord Valentine will get bored and toss him away, soon enough.”

“You really think so?” the princess sniffled, as one of the girls carefully dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief.

They all nodded enthusiastically.

“All men have their little dalliances, before they settle down. It’s nothing to worry too much about.”

“My father was notorious, before he married mother.”

“My aunt says the more they play before you marry them, the less they’ll stray afterward.”

Under their coaxing and ministrations, the princess began to feel a little better, but when she recalled the smug look on that blonde’s infuriating, freckled face, her anger surged up again, and she twisted her fan until it snapped in her hands.

“This is all that little slut’s fault,” she huffed, throwing it away. “How dare he cozy up to my fiancée! How dare he take what belongs to me! The future queen of Junon!”

“You know what we should do, is teach him a lesson,” said the girl who was fixing the princess’ hair.

The princess perked up. “Oh? What kind of lesson?”

“You remember my cousin, Gregor, right?”

“The one who was accused of excessive hazing, by all those boys, at Cheltenham Academy?”

“Yep, that’s him. He’s back from school, for winter holiday, and he and his friends are here, at the ball. All you’d have to do is cry a little, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help knock that hussy down a peg, for you.”

Another girl made a face. “You heard what they did, right, princess? Are you sure you want to go so far?”

“True. I don’t want them to really hurt him,” the princess said.

“Oh, they won’t, they won’t,” her friend quickly assured her. “They’ll just humiliate him, so Lord Valentine won’t want to have anything to do with him, anymore. We’ll see if he dares to be so full of himself, then.”

“Well…alright,” the princess agreed. “Let’s go find Gregor.”

After they’d walked the social gauntlet, for a while, Cloud began to lag, and get a touch pink in the cheeks. The ballroom was crowded, and despite it being early winter, the Wutai weather was quite a bit warmer and more humid than a northern lad was accustomed to. Vincent noticed his condition right away, and promptly led him out to one of the balconies, to cool off.

“What do you think of the ball, little devil? Is it not as dull and tedious as I warned?” he said, with a rueful smile.

“I’m actually having a pretty good time,” Cloud replied staunchly, as he opened the lapels of his frock coat and fanned himself with them. “It’s just a lot warmer in there, than I expected. This brocade is very good at preserving heat.”

Vincent leaned on the railing and lit a long, black cigarette, eyeing his young lover appreciatively. “You can take off the coat, you know. No one will mind.”

“What, and be seen in such an indecent state, in front of all the gentry?” Cloud gasped, feigning horror. “My reputation in society would be ruined! How would I find a noble husband, after that!”

Vincent chuckled. “Never fear, my little tuft hunter. I would marry you, and then no one would dare to offend you, no matter what your reputation.”

Cloud’s cheeks were already two little apples, from the heat, so Vincent didn’t notice that they turned slightly pinker. “Ah, ha ha. All joking aside, that princess of yours is certainly a piece of work. How old is she, anyway?”

“Nineteen.”

“Wow, really?” Cloud frowned. “I wouldn’t have guessed a day above sixteen.”

Vincent nodded his understanding. “Her grandmother dotes on her, so she has been sheltered and spoiled, and has never faced any adversity. Unless she does some maturing, before the time comes, I’m afraid Junon will pay the price, for putting such a ruler on their throne.”

“Oh, I see. Queen Grandma is hoping you’ll marry her, so that your influence will do her some good, as far as growing up. And even if it doesn’t, Junon will be able to rely on Valentine military power, as a deterrent, in case granddaughter pisses off any other nations. Is that close to right?”

“Perhaps you should go into statecraft, little devil. It appears you are a natural.”

Cloud drew himself up proudly. “Well, not to brag, but I have watched a lot of Wutaian palace dramas.”

Just then, a servant came to say that Her Majesty Queen Mireille asked for Valentine-sama’s company, in the east gallery, at his earliest convenience.

“Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” Cloud said, when Vincent hesitated. “I need to cool off for at least another ten minutes, before I’ll be ready to face the heat again, anyway.”

“Still, I don’t like leaving you alone,” Vincent frowned. “What if you are swept off your feet by some charming prince, while I’m away?”

“Then you’ll just have to challenge him to a duel and win me back. Go on. Don’t keep your Grandmother-in-law waiting.”

Pressing a kiss to Cloud’s hand, Vincent tore himself away and went off to attend the queen. Which was one of the weirdest things Cloud had ever experienced, on a date. Sure, he’d made President Shinra come on his dad’s desk and piss on a puppy training pad, and played somno-incest with Reeve, but having his date summoned away by real-life royalty was a new one.

He took one of his borrowed cigarettes from the silver case and lit it, then practiced leaning on the railing, trying to look carelessly cool, like Vincent. He felt he had it mostly down, but there was something to it he knew he wasn’t completely selling. Maybe you needed to be an actual old man to really project the kind of world-weary indifference, that made Vincent so captivating.

He was musing upon this, and watching his blue-white tobacco smoke curl up and waft away on the balmy night breeze, when there was a soft footstep behind him. Cloud’s spider-sense prickled and he tensed up to react, but in the next second, a throat was cleared.

“I beg your pardon, Strife-sama?”

Cloud turned to see a uniformed servant. “What is it?”

The young man bowed deeply. “Strife-sama, Valentine-sama requests your presence, right away. If the gentleman will please follow me, I will take you to him.”

“Sure, lead the way,” Cloud said, grinding out the cigarette butt, before he followed the servant inside.

They went through the main ballroom, his guide keeping to the fringes, so as not to drag him through the crowd, and then down a side passage, to a breezeway, which led across a courtyard, to another wing of the main building.

“What is he doing way out here?” Cloud asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Apologies, sir. I was only instructed to bring you to him,” the servant answered.

Cloud’s danger detection system was pinging faintly, but he chalked that up to his own paranoia, and unfamiliarity with the place. This wasn’t exactly a back-alley in the slums, anyway. It was the royal palace. It’s not like he was going to get mugged by a band of roving viscounts.

At length, the uniformed servant stopped at a door and bowed, as he opened it. Cloud stepped into the doorway and paused, frowning.

“Hey, it’s pitch dark in—” His sentence broke off abruptly, as several pairs of hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him roughly into the dark room.

A second later, a hand popped out, pushing a thick wad of bills into the servant’s hand. “You didn’t see anything. Now, get lost.”

The servant stuffed the cash into his pocket and practically ran away, across the courtyard. He felt terrible for tricking that pretty little blonde into going in there, with those thugs, but if he had refused, who knows what they’d have done to him. He was a literal nobody, and he couldn’t afford to lose this job, or worse, by offending the wrong people. At least this way, he got to keep all his limbs and make a little extra cash.

“Well, Vincent, here we are again,” the queen’s aged voice said, as he stepped into the east gallery. She was standing with her back to him, in front of the open windows, looking out over the palace gardens.

“Your Majesty,” Vincent replied, with a courtly bow.

“Don’t you ‘your majesty’ me, you old fox. We aren’t enemies, yet,” she snorted, turning to peer up at him in the bright light of the moon. “Good goddess, you get younger every time I see you. Where the hell do you get off looking like a damned kid, when the rest of us geezers are halfway to being mistaken for escaped mummies?”

“You know I can’t help it, Mireille. I never wanted to stay young forever.”

“You could have the decency to dye your hair grey. Or at least wear spectacles, or something.”

Vincent smiled. “I am pleased to find you are well, and in good spirits, my friend.”

“Yes, yes, I’m as healthy as a horse,” she said, waving her hand. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? What’s the meaning of you parading some cheap little doxy around, in front of all the gentry and heads of state, tonight?”

“That young man happens to be quite important to me,” Vincent said mildly. “Please don’t subject him to baseless insults.”

“Baseless? Ha!” The queen croaked out a laugh. “You think I don’t know exactly who and what he is? My intel agents aren’t that lazy. I knew all about him before he set foot on Wutaian soil.”

“As expected of my old friend,” Vincent said, dipping his chin.

“What the hell are you doing publicly associating with a whore, Vincent? You’re that determined to drag your family’s good name through the mud? What would your daddy think?”

Vincent’s smile remained tranquil, but his scarlet eyes glittered coldly. “My family’s good name means even less to me than my father’s opinion, Mireille. And the opinions of the gentry and heads of state rate lower, still. Are you not at all embarrassed, berating and disparaging a commoner, who is little more than a child, on your granddaughter’s behalf?”

The queen’s face worked, for a moment, as she tried to muster some royal indignation, but she quickly dropped the charade and her shoulders slumped. “Look, Vincent, I gave up on the marriage scheme, when Kyrie got old enough to start displaying her personality. She’s not the type to catch the interest of a man like you. She’s obstinate, impulsive, inconsiderate, and she only cares about being rich and pretty, just like her idiot father.

“Problem is, the damn fool thinks she’s in love with you, and won’t take no for an answer. You know I can’t bear to disappoint her, because of her mama, so I…I promised her I’d ask you again. Only, she got it into her head that I promised her you’d accept, and she’s been building her castles in the sky, since then.”

“Mireille, Mireille,” Vincent sighed. “A marriage will not solve your problems, and continued overindulgence will only make everything worse. You will live for a good long time, so take the opportunity to instill some discipline into the girl. I know that she seems hopeless, now, but if she’s anything like her grandmother, she has the capacity to mature into the wise and compassionate monarch, that Junon needs.”

“Hmph, you old flatterer,” the queen groused, pretending to be displeased. “Fine, I’ll take your advice, as best I can. I only wish some of that Valentine austerity had rubbed off on me, back when Grimoire was alive. Maybe I’d have been a better grandmother. Or at least a stricter one.”

“My father’s aloofness and austerity did not make me the person I am. You are already better parent to Kyrie, than my father was to me.”

“Alright, enough of that. Tell me about this little blonde, who’s so important to you. I never thought I’d see the day you’d open that cast-iron heart back up. Not after Lucy.”

Cloud, who had been at risk of very real bodily harm from many powerful men, including Sephiroth, Tseng, Rufus Shinra, and various others, over the course of his career, was expecting a lot worse than what he saw, when the lights went on, in the isolated storage room.

What he had expected, was Wutaian ninjas, or assassins from Junon, or Turks (on the off chance that Tseng had changed his mind and decided to kidnap him back to Midgar), or even Sephiroth, who seemed to have the ability to appear wherever he wanted, irrespective of the laws of time and space. What he got, was four not very bright-looking boys, aged between seventeen and nineteen, in tuxedos that seemed ill fitting and uncomfortable, despite the fact that they’d been tailored.

They were pretty big and brawny, obviously of the sports-inclined ilk, and two looked like they’d had more than a few broken noses. One of them had a cricket bat and one had brass knuckles, but those were all the weapons Cloud could see. They were just high-school kids.

“Is this all of you?” he asked, doubtfully, as they shoved him into the center of the room.

“What, you want more?” the dark-haired leader smirked. “I knew this one was a fucking slut.”

“Mh-hm. Just like those pretty little third-form fags, at school,” said the largest one, who had curly, fire-red hair.

One of them went to the door and made a big show of placing the old-fashioned locking bar and chain, intending to demonstrate to their captive that escape was impossible.

“Don’t bother calling for help, either,” the leader informed him. “There’s no one around to hear.”

“So you’re prep-school bullies, huh? I thought those only existed in movies and BL manga,” Cloud said, fascinated. “Wow, is that an actual cricket bat? Did you come right out of central casting?”

“Keep talking, faggot,” cricket guy grinned, slapping the heavy, wooden bat into his palm. “Every word outta your mouth is a tooth I’m gonna knock out, before I skullfuck you.”

Cloud squinted an eye at him. “You want to force me to suck your dick, and I’m the faggot? How does that make sense?”

“Shut up, slut!” the leader growled. “We all know you’re using your ass to worm your way into the Valentine family. Well, let’s see if that prissy vamp wants you anymore, after he sees what you do on your knees, for all of us.”

“I don’t have to hold the camera the whole time, right?” said the one who had locked the door, and who now had his phone out, apparently intending to record their criminal activity. “I want to do him, too.”

“I’ll take over for you, but I get to use his ass first,” the redhead leered, rubbing the bulge in the crotch of his trousers. “I’m already hard, just thinking about how he’s gonna squeal when I stick it in.”

The one with the brass knuckles laughed maliciously, seeing Cloud’s brow furrowed. “Finally getting scared, huh? Don’t worry, sugar. We’re gonna treat you right.”

“Hm? Scared?” Cloud blinked up at him, like he’d forgotten he was there. “No, it’s more like…out of my depth. See, I’ve never even been to high school. So, you’re going to regret this in ways I don’t have the vocabulary to properly express to educated young men, like you. Oh, I know. Maybe you could make use of those fine educations and help me think of some good words.”

“Enough talk, bitch,” cricket guy said, pointing the tip of his bat at Cloud. “Get on your knees, or we’ll put you on ‘em.”

“I bet you think that’s really intimidating,” Cloud replied pityingly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it only works when the person saying it is actually scary. Not a soft little dumpling who’s barely off his mother’s tit.”

“You piece of shit whore! Fuck you!” the dumpling in question roared, rushing forward to swing the bat at Cloud’s head.

Cloud easily ducked under the clumsy attack, swept the boy’s legs with a whiplash kick, caught the bat midair, and brought it down with a hollow thud, on the back of his head.

It was all so fast, his cronies hardly had time to process what they were seeing, let alone react. Meanwhile, cricket guy curled up and started rolling around, howling like he was dying.

“What a fucking baby. I didn’t even hit you hard enough to crack your skull,” Cloud scoffed, stepping over his writhing body, toward his associates, who were suddenly looking a little green in the face. “Ok, who’s next? You all wanted a turn, right? What about you, red? Didn’t you want to hear some squealing?”

The redhead backed up hastily, stumbling over camera guy, who dropped his phone, shattering the screen. Knuckles guy had run to the door, but the lock bar and chain were too complicated for him to get open, before the blood-spattered cricket bat tapped the door in front of his face.

“You guys wanted to trap me in here with you,” Cloud said, with a deranged smile. “Now you’re trapped in here with me.”

The brass knuckles fell to the floor with a ringing clatter, as knuckles guy backed away from the little blonde, ash-white and visibly shaking with terror. “Y—your eyes! What the fuck is with your eyes, man! S—snake! Snake demon!”

Thanks to the forethought of the four would-be assailants, the servants on duty in that area of the palace had all been bribed or threatened to mind their own business, for a while. Thus, the cracks, thuds, crashes, wails, and screams that filled the storage room, for the next half hour or so, were heard by no one who paid the slightest bit of attention.

“Gross, there’s blood on my shoe.” Cloud scowled down at the redhead, whose face was so battered and swollen, the features were hardly distinguishable. “Vincent gave me these, you better hope it comes off.”

The boy gurgled out some pathetic, unintelligible noises, in reply.

“You’re right, they’re finished leather. Of course it will.”

So saying, Cloud bent down and ripped off the redhead’s cummerbund, which he used to carefully wipe the boot clean.

“Good as new. Thanks, red, you’re a lifesaver,” he said jauntily, dropping the soiled accessory on the boy’s supine person. “Oh, and give the princess my regards. I was in serious danger of getting bored, but you guys really livened up the evening. Sayonara, gentlemen.”

“Little devil, I apologize for leaving you for so long. The queen was in a rather chatty temper, this evening, and kept me longer than I intended,” Vincent said, when he returned to the balcony, to find Cloud exactly where he’d left him, seated idly on the railing, sipping a cocktail and smoking a cigarette.

Cloud smiled sweetly, looking like the purest sunlight and daisies in spring. “No sweat, I’ve been entertaining myself, just fine.”

Vincent leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, then drew away, frowning. “I smell blood.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not mine. I’m kind of over this party, though. Can we get out of here?”

“Mn. You read my mind.”

Vincent’s eye glowed like a small sun, when they were in the car on the way back to the Valentine ryokan, and Cloud told him what happened, with the four thugs and the storage room. He wanted to go back and raise (likely literal) hell, but Cloud soothed him with kisses and by stroking his hair, till his eyes drooped and he buried his face in the boy’s neck, purring like a big cat.

It did also help that Cloud had forced the boys to confess to what they did—and more importantly, who put them up to it—and recorded it on his phone camera, which recording he had already sent to Vincent, to do with as he pleased. Vincent sent the video right along to the queen, who only responded with, “I see. I will deal with her.”

“Hoo, boy,” Cloud shuddered. “I almost feel bad for your little princess, now.”

“You are my only little princess,” Vincent mumbled, muffled by Cloud’s collar.

“You’re purring like a cat, you know,” Cloud laughed. “Is that a demon thing?”

“It’s a Valentine thing, but it’s not related to the demon. It is rare, though. I only knew my father and grandfather to do it, aside from me.”

Unseen to Vincent, who was busy pressing his fangs gently into his lover’s soft neck, Cloud’s smile froze on his face. He knew exactly one other person, who purred like this, when his long hair was petted.

But it had to be a coincidence. There was absolutely no possibility that Sephiroth and Vincent were in any way related to one another. Was there? No. It would be insane to even suggest such a thing. It was definitely just a coincidence. A weird, weird coincidence.

Definitely.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY definitely

NEXT CHAPTER

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 22

cw: pet whump, self degradation, unreliable narrator

masterlist

--

Ma’am was cold and distant for the rest of the day. She reminded Sawdust of his old master, whenever he was dealing with his disobedient dog. Sawdust was left with nothing left to do but curl up in his bed and go to sleep, longing for the day to pass so he may see Master Adrien again.

The three ate breakfast together. Ma’am was sitting at the head of the table, Master Adrien on the other side, and Sawdust sitting on the floor next to Ma’am’s chair. Master Adrien was just finishing serving himself and Ma’am some eggs and toast when Sawdust took his seat by his bowl full of dog food.

Master Adrien shifted anxiously in his seat, his hand shaky as he moved forkfuls of food to his mouth. He was wearing a gray hoodie, which was pretty normal for him, but as he bent his arm and the edge of his sleeve rode up, Sawdust could easily spot the deep red welt line running on the top of his wrist. He recognized that type of mark. Sawdust himself had received something similar when he was disobedient and stupid enough with his old master to deserve the belt being laid across his back until he was bleeding. Master Adrien’s mark was slimmer, though. Sawdust hadn’t ever been struck with anything that would leave a mark like that.

As soon as Master Adrien noticed Sawdust staring, he fixed his sleeve.

“Do you want to come into the office today, little puppy?” Ma’am asked, reaching down and petting Sawdust’s head.  “I’m sure nobody would mind, they’d think you’re cute!”

Sawdust glanced up to Master Adrien for an answer, but his face remained cold and expressionless. He did not want to disappoint either of them. He nodded gently. Ma’am’s face lit up with excitement and she squeezed his cheeks,

“Oh, everyone’s going to love you! I’ll text and let everyone know you’re coming!” Her fingernails tapped on her phone while she typed, “I think someone else has a pet too, I’ll tell her to bring it along.”

Another pet? Sawdust thought to himself. He’d never met another pet like him. He wondered if the other pet would be a dog too. He found himself beginning to get excited about meeting them. The eagerness only made him eat his food faster, in hopes of being able to go sooner. Plus, if he and Ma’am were both out of the house, then Master Adrien might be able to find another way out. At the very least, he might be able to escape himself, even if Sawdust could not.

Breakfast went down quick after that, and Sawdust was being shuttled out of the house. Ma’am locked up all the doors and windows tight just like Master Adrien did in his own home. Ma’am had Sawdust sit in the backseat of the car and she drove off down the empty street towards the city. It wasn’t often that Sawdust got out of the house, even when he was at Master Adrien’s house. It was strange to be brought along to Ma’am’s workplace so easily, especially when it was such a production for Adrien to take Sawdust anywhere. Ma’am didn’t have any of the unsteadiness that Master Adrien had. Not that Sawdust thought ill of Master Adrien, of course. He simply thought that Ma’am was… More confident. Maybe she had a pet before?

She was unshakeable, and Sawdust was the most fallible, pitiful creature alive. Sawdust still couldn’t scrub his mind of the kiss she had given him. He felt disgusted with himself every time he remembered it, and he couldn’t forget it. But he didn’t dare ask her why. It was not his place to question her.

The rumbling of the tires on the road at least helped him take his mind off of it. The unpaved lane quickly turned to asphalt as she traversed the city, heading towards the part with tall, glassy buildings. Sawdust had never been to this part. He wondered if Master Adrien had. Sawdust wasn’t aware that this town was so big, the town he was from was tiny. It was a handful of houses around his old Master’s house, and yet despite that, crowds of people still flocked to his old Master’s home to watch the fights.

Just following such a train of thought and winding up back at the fights had Sawdust shivering in his seat.

“Oh, sorry,” Ma’am said, twisting a round knob on something at the front of the car. “I forgot you dress kind of light. I’ll keep it a bit warmer for you.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sawdust speaks up properly for the first time in what felt like ages. His voice is rough. He hadn’t realized just how long he’d been sitting in the car while Ma’am drove. “I’m not- not cold- I- your pet wants whatever you want, Ma’am.”

Ma’am looked back at Sawdust through the rear view mirror. There was something in her gaze that Sawdust had not seen from anybody in a while. He realized that it was because Master Adrien did not have that trait. His old Master didn’t have that trait, either, not usually. Sometimes the people he brought over did.

“You really are so cute,” She grinned, “The office is just going to love you to pieces! And one of my coworkers has a pet too. Maybe you’ll get along.”

Sawdust blinked owlishly at Ma’am. Another pet. Another pet like him? A pet that’s terrible at being a dog? He fiddled with his paws in the back seat, trying to hide how excited he was. He was always terrible at that, but there were few things recently that got him eager and excited, so he did not have to worry about having something to hide. He couldn’t let Ma’am- or anyone else- know that he was looking forward to something, because then it would become a bargaining chip, and its withholding would become a punishment.

Part of Sawdust was ashamed of how eager he was. How could he possibly want to see another pet suffering like him? He didn’t know why his heart sped up at the thought. Maybe he was simply missing the rest of his pack. The litter he was kept with. As cruel as they were to him, they were still company.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ma’am reached one hand back and gently put it on Sawdust’s knee. She didn’t pet him, simply let it rest there as a reminder of her looming presence. “We’ll be there soon, okay? Just sit tight.”

The rumbling of the car’s wheels finally quieted as Ma’am pulled into a dark room filled with other cars. She parked, and then stepped outside and opened the door for Sawdust, muttering apologies for not having a carrier for him. His legs trembled as he stood, taking a step out of the vehicle and teetering on his feet. He wasn’t certain if he was supposed to crawl or not, but that was decided for him when Ma’am took his paw in her hand. 

He felt dirty. He was definitely slowing her down. He was ashamed when she nodded to a man  who was standing at the door, dressed in a dark gray uniform, before she brought Sawdust inside. The two of them rode an elevator up and up, until it finally let them out and Sawdust was pulled out.

The lights were cold and bright above him, the white ceiling doing nothing to help. Little boxed off cubicles lined the floor, but Ma’am didn’t bring Sawdust to one of those. She brought him to a proper room, off to the back and to the side. It had a few tall windows, but it was mostly secluded by dull walls. Against one of the walls was a desk with a computer and a chair, not unlike Master Adrien’s back home. On the floor next to the desk was a small trash can full of paper, and what looked like a cushion. 

“I had them steal a pillow off the sofa in the break room,” Ma’am led Sawdust over to it and allowed him to kneel down on it. “This way you can stay close by me.”

She rolled out her chair and sat down, taking her spot at her desk, next to Sawdust.

Sawdust didn’t see any pets anywhere near him. He didn’t know where, when, or if they would be arriving. He was a little disappointed that they weren’t here already, but he supposed that Ma’am knew best.

Sawdust never could have foreseen at any point that his greatest enemy was anticipation. At least when he was trapped in with the other dogs, dreading when his Master would come back, he had things to distract him. Now he is seated with nothing but the sound of Ma’am’s typing, and some loose threads to pull at on the tassels at the corners of his cushion. He kept glancing up at Ma’am, expecting her to do something. The woman, who had stooped so low as to kiss him, didn’t even glance at Sawdust. There was no universe where it was in order for Sawdust to request attention or distraction. He was left to wait.

Time ticked by, punctuated alone by Ma’am’s typing. Finally, she spoke up. Her words were deafening against the silence.

“You know, everyone’s curious about you.” She says, not even looking away from her screen. “I told the office group chat that you were coming along. They all want to meet you. Lunch is coming up, so it’s up to you if you want to come with me to the cafeteria, or stay here.”

People. People, real humans, wanted to meet him. The thought was terrifying, but it was probably even more dangerous to deny Ma’am what she wanted. Sawdust swallowed.

“Whatever Ma’am wants…” He muttered, unable to force more sound out of his pathetic throat. She beamed down at him, 

“Perfect! You’ll come along then, and I’ll ask for a meal for you too.” She took out her phone and typed something into it. Then she finally pet Sawdust’s head. “The person with the pet should be coming shortly after lunch. You’ll get to meet her then!”

The promise was rejuvenating. If Sawdust had a real tail, it would be thumping against the floor. Instead, he’s left with his limp, stuffed one that can’t properly show his emotion. It was probably better, safer that way, anyways.

“Ready to go?” Ma’am stood and let Sawdust take her hand so she could guide him down to the cafeteria. Now that Sawdust was aware of it, he felt every single person’s eyes all over him. He was sure that they were wondering where his real ears and tail were, why he was so skinny and scarred up. Why wasn’t he pretty and cute like a real dog? His already terrible posture worsened with every step as he tried to hide and curl into himself. 

Finally, they stepped into the elevator and were brought to a different floor.

Only for this one to be even more swarmed with people.

The elevator opened directly to the cafeteria Ma’am must have been referring to. There were three different stations at the walls of the big dining hall, tables and booths scattered across the floor. Different types of people walked around with trays of yummy smelling food, taking their seats or getting up to go. 

Ma’am didn’t even stop walking, she tugged Sawdust along to one of the food stations, taking a tray with one hand. The person behind the counter exchanged some pleasantries with Ma’am, and then handed her a plate and a bowl, as well as some utensils. 

“I’m going to need two hands to carry this, okay puppy?” She let go of Sawdust’s paw, leaving him to have to quickly grasp at the counter to keep himself steady. “Just follow me over to a table, okay? Follow.” She turned on her heel and started off towards an empty table. That wasn’t an impossible task. Sawdust let go of the counter and stumbled after her, making sure not to lose sight of her.

His feet were unsteady and his legs were still wobbly and weak, even if he had been practicing with Master Adrien. His head was on a swivel, overstimulated by everybody moving around and talking around him, he didn’t see the crowd of chatting business people approaching, and he was unable to stop himself from getting caught in the crowd and tumbling down.

His knees slammed against the tile beneath him and he yelped. The chatter that had swarmed him suddenly died, and he glanced up to see pairs of eyes staring down at him. The chatter started again in the form of soft murmurs above him. Their gazes pierced through him. Sawdust’s breath quickened. Hands reached down to him. To grab at him. He lurched back, just to collide with the crowd’s shins. He was completely boxed in. Hot, stinging, shameful tears welled up in his eyes. He was lost in a sea of faceless people.

“Excuse me!” He heard a voice from the outside of the crowd. Ma’am practically shouldered her way through the people, and as soon as Sawdust recognized her, he was leaping forward and clinging to her legs, eyes squeezed shut. 

He heard the sound of footsteps, and then the background, ambient chatter. Only when he was sure that the crowd was gone did he open his eyes. Ma’am crouched down and pet his head, fixing the position of his ear headband.

“Hey, puppy.” She said softly, extending a hand and wiping his tears away once he finally let go of her legs and sat down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

He felt awful that his hiccuping sobs were interrupting her. He nodded.

“Okay, here,” She extended a hand, “We can get our food packed up and go eat it in the office. I think you’re a little overwhelmed.”

She sat Sawdust down at a table with their food while she left, shortly coming back with containers that she packed everything into. On the way back to the office, her hand did not let go of Sawdust’s paw, and his eyes did not leave her back.

A part of him was touched that she came back for him. The other parts of him were all deeply ashamed and embarrassed, and hateful. How could he ever think that he could walk on two legs like that? How could he assume that he was competent enough to follow Ma’am? He was truly useless as a pet. Better for decoration.

Once back in the office, Sawdust took his spot back on his cushion. Ma’am opened a flat, round container and set it down next to him for him to eat. It was full of chicken, rice, carrots, and broccoli. He wanted to turn his nose up at the broccoli and carrots, but he’s seen videos from Master Adrien of dogs eating it… Maybe it’ll be okay.

He dug in, burying his nose in the food while he wolfed it down, trying not to spill any grains of rice on the floor. The food was delicious, it filled up his senses, yet he was still able to hear the sound of talking from outside of Ma’am’s office grow louder and then, cutting through it in a small voice, he heard,

“Woof!”

--

Taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @it-will-all-whump-out @theydy-cringeworthy @kim-poce @bluetheautisticrat@whump-in-progress @wh-wh-whu @mylifeisonthebookshelf @grizzlie70 @wolfeyedwitch @nicolepascaline @melancholy-in-the-morning @jumbledbyrd @batfacedliar-yetagain @no-terms-and-conditions-apply @scp-1269 @whumpdreamz

[joz-yyh]

Acta Est Fabula - Ch. 10

SUMMARY: Crimson Court AU. The boy's spar turns hot and heavy No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Flagellant x Bounty Hunter

RATING: M (violence/ sexual themes / blood magic)

WORD COUNT: 3,756

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: This whole chapter is gratuitous smut, but they'll need it for the journey that lies ahead. Hope you like a begging bottom!Tardif~

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

“Should we really do this so close to camp,” Damian protests, worried for the state they would leave it in, their pets getting caught in the fray.

“Not like we’ll have perfect conditions in a real fight,” Tardif vollies, preferring realistic expectations over pristine hypotheticals.

“As you say, vampire hunter,” Damian acquiesces, exhausted and they hadn't even started yet.

He waits on his side of the tall grass, assuming a slimmer stance, a claw at the ready to defend himself.

“Well,” Tardif prompts.

“Well, what?”

“Aren't ye gunna choose a weapon,” the human all but demands, waiting for him to do just that.

“Do you really think I need one,” Damian replies, looking at a loss, ill prepared.

“Might come in handy. Better to have one than not.”

“And what weapon would you have me use, vampire hunter?”

Tardif reaches for the first thing that comes to mind, taking a dagger from his boot (one of several “treasures” he brought from the cave), tossing it in Damian's direction.

It lands in the dirt by his feet, the nobleman stepping forward to retrieve it.

“A dagger,” the flagellant muses, assessing the slender shape, “against your axe? And they say size doesn't matter.”

“Even somethin' small can be deadly if it's applied well enough. Even better if it's hidden. It's all ‘bout how ye use it.”

Funny coming from a man that harps on the very opposite.

“Dear hunter, my body is my weapon. I’d scarcely know how to work this as well as my claws.”

“Ye stab people wit’ it. Wot's more to know?”

Damian does everything he can to hold in his laugh, but he can't, too amused by his partner's curt explanation.

“Thank you, I hadn't the faintest idea that's what it was for.”

He's dripping sarcasm of course, throwing the blade at Tardif in retaliation, the hunter deflecting it with ease as if it was second nature, the mark of a professional.

“So much fer yer weapon,” he snorts, balking as it lands somewhere off kilter, lost in the reeds.

“Yes, it appears I am completely helpless. Whatever shall you do.”

“Fine,” Tardif growls, brows knitted in opposition, stance dipping low, “have it yer way.”

He takes off, sprinting forwards, assaulting his partner with a flurry of blows, the vampire side-stepping circles around him thanks to his impressive speed.

“Ye gunna be flighty the whole time? Attack me already.”

“I did, didn't I,” the vampire counters, referring to his dagger throw, weaving past another swing, Tardif aiming for his throat.

“Attack again,” Tardif asserts, dealing a particularly powerful undercut.

“Fine,” the vampire growls back, swiping at him with his sharp nails, targeting the head just as the hunter had done, the nicks he lands too superficial for the hunter to acknowledge the sting of.

Damian clearly doesn't have his heart in it, not as invested in their duel as his partner is, but at least this was starting to feel like an actual skirmish and if pissing him off was the only way to get the vampire to take this more seriously, then Tardif was about to use a whole bag of underhanded tricks.

It's crazy to think they've fucked before crossing blades, Damian marveling at how focused the human is, that he's putting his entire being into every strike, calculating the physics in a span of seconds.

“You really enjoy fighting, don't you?”

Tardif barks out a laugh. “Wot was yer first clue?”

His muscles have loosened up now, getting back into the groove after days of indulgence, slicing at Damian, cutting into his shoulder.

The vampire stills at the lucidity of pain, not a mere scratch, but a deep tear, one that the vampire is shocked his human made against him.

“So, that's how you want it,” the nobleman seethes, a hateful wrinkle in his red eyes.

Blood has seeped through his clothes, a gaping hole ripped through the fabric, enough reason for him to remove his jacket along with his hat, throwing them somewhere off in the distance.

Tardif delights in seeing the shift in Damian’s demeanor, to see that bloodlust that struck him so deeply the first time returning now as a dark glimmer.

“Wot? Did ye think I'd go easy on ye?”

“No, I just didn't think this was a fight to the death.”

“Might be the only time I can fight ye seriously. ‘Course I am going all in,” Tardif scoffs, gripping his weapon tightly.

“So, you want us to kill each other before the viscount will get a chance? Weakening ourselves in battle is a most insipid approach.”

“Neither of us knows wots gunna happen tomorrow. Injured or not. Besides, wots the big deal? Ye can just heal me and yerself.”

“It may increase our chances,” Damian counters, “but if you insist on continuing, I think we both know how this fight of ours will end.”

“Prove it,” Tardif spits, insulted that Damian didn't think he stood more of a chance when he was first and foremost a vampire hunter.

“If memory serves, l've already bested you once before.”

His oral recounting is too calm, cool, and superior for Tardifs liking, reminiscent of when they first met.

“Doesn't count. Sicked yer damn pet on me,” Tardif growls, discrediting the victory.

Sebastian gurgles in offense, watching from the sidelines, Pierre perched upon the croc’s head, prime seating for the duel taking place.

“You say that as if you're not a pet yourself,” Damian snaps.

The insult burns, Tardif's own tricks thrown back at him, a super effective blow.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve? Perhaps you should apologize to Sebastian and Pierre. Afterall, you have a lot in common.”

Tardif is stewing with anger, trying to get his head on straight, think clearly, but it's not going so well.

“In case you're wondering,” the vampire says, “I know what you're trying to do. Provoke me all you like, I won't use my full strength against you.”

Tardif's heard enough.

“That's yer problem, not mine,” the human growls, attacking him head on.

Damian pulls from his open wound, using the blood there, the stuff waving around like magic ink and Tardif never expected it would harden, be strong enough to stop his blade. It looks as fragile as glass and yet it's as hard as stone, his axe unable to crack it now matter how hard he swings.

“What say you now, vampire hunter,” Damian snarls, “impressed?”

Tardif only has a moment to reflect on his frustration before flashes of red invade his vision, what feels like razor blades slice into the back of his legs, the length of his arms, weakening him slowly.

How is he doing this? Did Damian truly have such mastery over his blood that he could morph it into a weapon, use it as a booby trap of shurikens?

“Has it sunk in yet? Do you see how outmatched you are, little fly?”

They are both too good at getting under each other's skin, but Tardif isn't about to give up, if anything it just leads him to his next move: kicking Damian in the crotch.

As soon as the hit connects, the barrage of cuts stop, the flagellant staggering backwards, his aegis of blood splattering onto the ground, useless.

“That was dirty.”

“Ye think our enemies will be playing fair?”

“Is that what you want, vampire hunter,” Damian growls, practically feral, “For me to be your enemy? To forget everything between us?”

The vampire's eyes turn dark obsidian, fangs doubling in number, growing long, pointy, such raw fury all aimed at him.

Sebastian steps forward, about to intervene when his master stops him, an arm outstretched.

“Down boy, daddy's working right now.”

Pierre gives a shudder, feeling the change in atmosphere, fearing for them both.

“There it is! That look! Where nothin' else matters, but destroyin' the thing in front of ye. Liberatin’ isn’t it?”

The nobleman doesn't answer; he's too busy flying forward, so fast that it takes all of Tardif’s strength just to defend himself.

What he doesn't account for is an insect leg (make that several), one to stab him in the foot, the others to target his weapon, knocking the axe out of hands.

Well, this is becoming a theme. Now he sees where Sebastian inherits his fighting style from.

The human is losing blood, growing slower, foot still pinned down, and while he could resort to basic punches and kicks, his undead opponent would more than likely dodge every move he made.

There is one resource he hasn't tried yet, a little bottle he picked up from the swamp, throwing it's blessed contents now, wondering how effective it will be.

Damian seems surprised, a hand brought to the paleness of his face, feeling the skin blister, sizzle with smoke, practically melting off bone.

“Holy water, you used holy water on me?”

He's laughing, delighting in the burn as if he's been baptized by it.

“I can't remember the last time someone's done that.”

Seems Damian has woken up from his bloodlust, his limbs receding, eyes returning to normal, apparently starting to have fun himself with this turn of events.

Maybe the bloodsuckers vision has gone awry, a drawback of his face peeling off because his attacks have become less poised, bordering on inebriated, the brute managing as best he can with his gimp foot.

“Ye tryin’ to rip my heart out,” he taunts, his shirt practically in tatters with the number of times Damian slashed at it.

“Why waste the effort, when it already belongs to me?”

Claws dig into his chest, making it ache, forcing him back into the mud, body sunk and sticking to it. Blood magic locks around Tardifs left wrist, holding it down, cutting into flesh.

Damian has him pinned, there’s no denying that, kneeling over him with another claw pulled back, notched like an arrow should his prey struggle against his binds.

“Do you yield,” the vampire snarls, words bitter, antagonized, angered that Tardif had made him this, “or must I destroy you completely?”

“Ye ain’t gunna kill me,” the human grumbles, unphased, jaded, as if there was never any danger of that.

“Oh no, much worse,” the flagellant warns, targeting the stubborn warrior’s pride, knowing it would hurt him more than mortal wounds ever could, “I claim your defeat.”

“Ha! Ye sure ‘bout that,” he barks, truly amused, “Could get ye right here if I wanted,” the brute indicates, gently bumping his knee against the flagellant’s liver, a move that would no doubt incapacitate and provide a window of escape.

“Yes, you could have,” the vampire sighs, feeling the injury even without his partner inflicting it, yearning for the pain, “why didn't you?”

“Think I like havin’ ye on top,” he says, a dry utterance, grinning to himself.

The vampire hadn't noticed it before (silly him), but it seems their spar has sent the hunter’s blood racing, riled up, ready to fuck.

“You would permit me such an honor,” Damian badgers, throwing insult for insult.

“Yeah, just this once.”

He pulls the flagellant down to his lips with the one free hand he has, holding him with a surefast grip. It's a messy clash, full of desperation, one that’s hard and eager, but nonetheless leaves him breathless.

“We shouldn't tire ourselves out,” Damian reminds him, a voice of reason.

“Don't know ‘bout ye, but not sittin’ around the rest of the night playin’ it safe,” he argues, burning hot and heavy, “gunna make every second count.”

It's not Damian's usual way of doing things, having spent so many years wasting away in the solitude of the swamp, loathing his existence, but Tardif had given him hope, a purpose, even redemption.

His human can be quite inspiring when he wants to be, living fast and free, fearlessly without regret, and Damian doesn’t see the harm in trying things his way, if only for tonight. Tardif’s right, they may not get another chance.

“So … ye gunna uncuff me now,” the huntsman asks, raising a brow to the shackled wrist above his head.

“It's tempting,” the nobleman muses, mitigating his options, “Or I could leave you here and let you tend to yourself.”

“Don't ye dare,” Tardif warns, mortified by the thought, “or I really will kill ye.”

Damian chuckles, breaking the bloody snare with a crystalline snap, the magic dissolving into thin air and the moment that Tardif’s hand is free, he’s using them both to grab at his lover again.

They're kissing like maniacs, Tardif arching up into him, wet clothing grating against their skin, the vampire’s hand wrapped around his neck, the other caught between his chest, splayed against the incisions they bore.

“Aren't ye worried ‘bout the kids watchin’,” the brute teases, a blush beaming bright against his dark skin.

Damian’s eyes blow wide, attention snapping toward their audience, almost forgetting. Sebastian has since slid his bulk back towards camp, taking Pierre with him, the two setting off on a voyage, drifting through the canal.

“Seems they know better than we do,” the vampire says, gaze returning to Tardif just as hands lodge themselves into the waistband of his tights.

“Then, fuck me, already,” Tardif coos, pulling the fabric down, gripping at his lover’s ass the moment it's exposed.

Damian stutters, face a brilliant scarlet, never expecting such a demand to sprout from his human’s mouth, lewd pillow talk a heady drug that strokes directly at his core.

“You're hardly prepared,” the nobleman argues, gathering his wits.

“Don't need to be. Just do it,” Tardif huffs, leaning up to bite at a pale neck, thinking he wants to try vampirism for himself.

He doesn’t stop until he breaks skin, and it becomes clear now that Tardif is just as scared of what's to come tomorrow, clinging to thrill, distracting himself with it, and that makes Damian feel a little more at ease.

“You’re ready when I say you are,” the flagellant insists, putting his partner in his place, “Now, would you kindly remove your hands,” he asks more politely, involuntarily bucking his hips because the human’s finger has wandered in, fondling him, an action he most certainly should be performing on his counterpart.

Tardif does as he's asked, but only after giving a cheeky little swipe to his hole, smirking about his own petty attempt at defiance.

Still, Damian is nonetheless grateful, speaking a, “Thank you,” aloud.

The human doesn't keep his hands to himself for long. He slides them up, towards the front, over the flagellant's waist, feeling the bulge of his dick, trapped by the conventions of clothing.

“If you refuse to behave I could simply cuff you again, but perhaps you’d enjoy it more if I used my legs.”

“Heh, ye threatenin’ me wit’ a good time?”

“It won’t be, at least not for you.”

Tardif thinks otherwise.

“Do you still have that vial of oil?”

Ah. He nearly forgot all about that.

“Not much left.”

The hunter reaches into his pocket, showing him the few amber colored drops that remain.

“Very well,” the vampire laments, “blood it is.”

While Tardif dwells on how ominous that sounds, the nobleman pulls at his partner's belt buckle, having an awful time actually getting his pants off, a task made harder when they were sticking to every inch of his skin.

“This would be so much easier if I could just rip these off you.”

Who knew that such a simple thing as undressing could drive the bloody saint’s aggravation to the point of no return?

“Ye could,” the hunter prompts, eyebrow raised because he likes the idea of an impatient Damian shredding his trousers to ribbons just to fuck him faster. At least then it would match the state of his shirt.

“Then, you'd have nothing to wear.”

“I am alright wit’ that.

Tardif wriggles his hips, his hands joining in the cause, helping to get the meddlesome garment out of the way, tossing them aside while Damian cuts a line down his palm, ruby red blood dripping down to coat his fingers.

Tardif isn't taking the stretch too well, feeling the sting of a sharpened nail as the pointed edge penetrates him.

“Damn those fuckin’ claws of yers,” he grumbles.

“You seemed not to complain about them before.”

“Complainin’ now.”

“Why don't you try begging instead?”

The retort dies in the hunter's throat, groaning in resistance, but the more Damian presses inside, the more he shivers, throwing his head back, fingers curling inside him, finding his sweet spot.

“There you are, my pet,” the nobleman smirks, enjoying his lover’s reactions.

“Will ye just get on wit’ it?"

“Surely, you can beg better than that.”

The brute arches, the nobleman gaining the upper hand almost effortlessly and Tardif can't take it, he reaches down to jerk himself off.

“Ah shit, shit, shit, fuck me.”

“That’s precisely what I am doing.”

Damian withdraws, biting at his own wrist, letting it trickle down onto his dick, coating himself in rose red.

The human watches this, slowing in his hedonistic strokes as his partner positions himself against his prize.

It's sticky, almost painful as he slides inside, Tardif wincing, wringing his cock in a stifling grip and then in an instant, it all turns euphoric.

“Wot the hell,” he huffs, noticing the difference.

“You feel it don’t you? Warming you, filling you up.”

“Nrgh,” the brute grunts, awash in it, “yeah.”

“My gift to you,” the flagellant smirks, kissing his partner, letting the effects of his blood take hold.

Tardif has felt this sensation before, back when the vampire had healed him, but this dose was much more potent, body alight with pinpricks and dizzy spells.

His wounds are healed, Damian's face mending itself too and Tardif forgoes his masturbation in favor of holding his partner instead, letting him set the pace as he trips further into a narcotic haze.

Maybe having a more experienced lover wasn't so bad, there's a finesse of rhythm that could only come from exploring another's body and the more he lets Damian take control, the more his pleasure intensifies.

The cock inside him swells, becoming inches thicker, the human grunting as he adjusts to the change, trying to make sense of it because the idea sounds just as crazy in his head.

“Did ye just make yer cock grow bigger?”

“Yes, another perk of my blood. Do you like it?”

The blush on his cheeks should be evidence enough, but he wasn't going to give the vampire any more clout.

“Don't care. As long as I cum.”

Well, he'll just have to find a way to help him appreciate his powers more.

Damian hovers a hand over his lover's length, blood magic swirling around the base, solidifying crimson into a tangible ring.

“Wot did ye do to me,” Tardif grunts, feeling it's suffocating influence almost immediately

“Isn't it obvious? It's a tool to help you learn the virtue of patience.”

Damian traces a finger around it, then up the dark veins of his hardness, watching it twitch, head beading with pills of arousal.

“Take it off.”

Seems Tardif has an issue with being told when and how he can orgasm, but Damian won't be intimidated by his demands.

“I will, when you’re ready.”

The vampire holds nothing back as he pounds into him, a heated pace unlike the steady one he carried before, driving him to the brink only for his release to be denied by that damned cock ring.

Tardif endures this, thinking he can withstand it, but he wants to cum, he wants to come so badly, making his punishment worse.

“Damian, please … wot do I gotta say?”

“I want you to say how much you love me.”

The vampire hunter only hesitates a second before answering, having admitted as much to himself not so long ago.

“I love ye.”

Damian stills but a moment, never thinking the stubborn warrior would say it, but now that he had, the flagellant rewards his obedience, shoving in, hard and deep, blood magic changing the dynamic of his erection, making it longer, ribbed and studded.

“Say that I am the only one.”

He tugs at Damian’s shirt sleeves, sensation overwhelming him, his lover hitting that spot over and over again without mercy.

“Yer … the only one.”

Tardif gasps, the feeling so akin to release and yet it's stifled, only a tease of what he’s been begging for.

“You're mine.”

“I am – ah fuck– I am y-yers.”

Damian chuckles, his huntsman mistaking his possessive dulcet as a wish that needed to be granted, pushing for one final vow.

“Tell me I won. That I am right.”

Adorable how his human struggles to fulfill this demand out of all the rest, taking the context too seriously.

“Right ‘bout wot?”

“About you being my pet of course.”

Another short contemplation, the warrior about to break from the strain on his body.

“If I do, ye'll take this offa me?”

“If you say it sweetly enough,” Damian promises, dripping with anticipation.

Tardif yanks at him by the collar, pulling him close, the only two souls that can bear witness to what he's about to say, speaking it against his lips.

“Yes, master, I am yer pet.”

Oh, like music to his ears, the most beautiful sonata to ever exist, rewarding his obedient human with kisses, thrusting in with as much strength as he can muster, showing him how much he truly enjoyed it.

Tardif is whining, shuddering, gripping, biting, whatever he can to hold on when Damian breaks the snare holding his release at bay, the brute exploding the moment he does, cum spilling from him in a never ending parade of white.

Every time he delves past the swathe of thick thighs, more ivory pearls join the sea of others like it, Tardif’s voice unrestrained, calling out to him, sweaty, lewd delicacies he savors and it's between all those lewd grunts and groans that Damian finds his own release.

Their breaths are haggard, bodies shuddering, at their limit, when they finally allow each other to rest.

“I may have been too rough with you,” Damian frets, red eyes assessing his lover’s wounds, a hand holding his face, lips close.

“It's only blood,” Tardif shrugs, more than content with how things turned out.

“We're both bleeding,” the vampire chuckles, abound with scratch marks from his precious human, souvenirs left by throws of passion.

“Heh,” the human smirks, meeting his gaze, foreheads pressed together, “we'll call it a draw.”

[thecatchat]

Last idea: Karl has really really pale skin that’s sort of Stoney, and his freckles when he has them are iridescent.

Also, maybe on the chubbier side? (All of their designs are pretty similar shapes at the moment and a more monstrous Saph + shorter slimmer Cue who stays mostly the same + a Tall/large Karl who’s usually like a teddy bear but his height and size can be intimidating when he’s in a rare moment like with Mary and the Mauve lens)

It used to be that, when this was an AU, I always had it in my head that Karl was tall and lean, Saponite was normal height and muscular, and Cue was short and a little cubbier.

I love the idea of leaning into a slightly more monstrous Sap, between the glowing eyes, fire powers, horns, tail, and charcoal freckles, I don't know how much more you can really lean into the monstrous look... unless... *side eyes* do we want to give him fangs? It is peak character design, I've been told. Now I really want to give him fangs.

Cue being a bit thinner, it would take a bit to adjust my mental picture but I don't mind it, I always imagined them as like 5 feet tall so making them any shorter doesn't quite work in my brain, but if you imagined them taller, yah we can make them shorter. Less round and more cylindrical? Idk, mental pictures are hard sometimes. Also, maybe they could use their wings to give a small boost to jumping or climbing? Since Sap has their fire, Karl has their smoke, and I know the joke is that Cue has their gun, but I just feel like they're a tad underpowered, in a sense? Like, just a higher jump and slow fall.

Karl, I've had the mental picture that he looks as if a small gust of wind could knock him over, his leather overcoat seems to swallow him up and it almost seems like the coat is what keeps him from floating off (metaphorically). But in the admittedly wirey frame is pure muscle from all the tussles he gets into and feral determination. Also, he never really ate for fullness or for calories. He did it for the experience and to see if he'd fall over dead from it. I think the coat could add to a teddy bear figure, but without it, he looks concerningly thin in my mind. He's intimidating due to his height after he brings down the weight of existence using words. His knowledge and words are his weapons. Perhaps he seems larger when he opens a person's eye to just how small they are in the face of countless dimensions. Or perhaps the person simply sees themselves as smaller, the effect only exaggerated by Karl's height.

Also! Iridescent freckles! Yes! Would they only be able to be seen in the Between, certain lighting angles, or just always there?

[goldenlionprince]

thank you so much @lovelymasks 😭😭😭 this is such a lovely tag game!

so let me start with an absolute gem from the person who started it all

I can't love you back to life by @neverenoughmarauders

The Patronus bursts out of Dumbledore’s wand as Sirius cast the spell. The dog was taller than Sirius remembered, slimmer, had antlers… ‘Prongs,’ Sirius gasped, as he took in the painfully familiar view. The stag, his stag, stepped over the threshold and walked into the hallway. It waited for him, beside Dumbledore.

Caz is perfect for when you need your heart ripped out. absolute queen of emotional pain. this especially hits me right in the feels every single time, because Sirius' Patronus changing form to a stag is just 😭

~

Kiss me tonight by @lovelymasks

And in front of the desk was his answer to who was crazy enough to drive a motorbike in this weather. A very tall, very fit answer. With a superb arse, James thought as his eyes travelled from the heavy boots up the endless legs, clad in thick, black leather that went on to accentuate the most perfectly shaped backside he had ever laid eyes on.

yes, I know Maddie tagged me in this, BUT how can I skip this absolute PERFECT entrance of Sirius into the story. like that arse in tight leather pants is just a dream come true. it's also James' dream coming true 😏 it's an absolute gem of a story and "only one bed" always makes me think of this one now.

~

Nightingale by @groundzero-v

“To the left,” Sirius called over to him, his sharp voice easily carrying over the sounds of the battle. Without hesitation, James sidestepped. A sharp gust of wind whooshed past him, tugging on his clothes and hair.  With a loud snap, it ran straight into a Death Eater that was trying to sneak up on him, throwing him backwards. James smirked, then sent another set of spells to the side when a short Death Eater with a silver mask moved to Sirius’ blind spot. 

James and Sirius being absolute insane while fighting Death Eaters ✅Sirius getting hurt and hiding it ✅ James taking care of him ✅ kiiiiiisses ✅ PERFECTION

~

Moving Down by @eastwindmlk

“No,” he laughed in response and leaned back against the wall, looking like a fucking Vivienne Westwood model. If she wasn’t so laser-focussed on the answer she might have got distracted by how the various silver rings glittered on his fingers. “I’m his person, not his type. It’s different.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it was hard to not believe him. 

Listen, I adore the entire Moving Series . You're all sleeping on this. This is peak Jilypad!! It's like my favourite romantic sitcom! It's an ongoing series and I'm giddy about every single update. Sirius is almost ready to tie James up and put him on a silver platter for Lily, because these two are cute disasters 😂 and "I'm his person, not his type" is just so good - LOVE Sirius' confidence in this one!

~

Like slow cooking a lobster by @padfootastic

As soon as he enters the room, however, that hope fizzles out as Lily, impossibly, looked even worse than James. Sirius has to hold in a wince before either of them can see it. Her hair, usually a bright copper, was in the saddest droopy bun he’d ever seen, strands of it falling out and tangled around her face. Her eyes were puffy and lips cracked in apparent fatigue (or was it dehydration?). She looks up, sharply, at the sound of their entry and Sirius watches in alarm as it takes her a few seconds to react to his presence. “Sirius!” Even her voice is tired, barely reaching him in one piece. “You’re here!” Sirius goggles at her. “Lils, I left you guys alone for one week, what happened.”

This is one of my all time favourite Jilypad stories! You have no idea how much I adore this!! Harry is the most adorable little demon baby, James and Lily struggle a little with being first time parents while Sirius tries not to insert himself too much into their little family (they very much want him to insert himself more and Lily is a total disaster flirt about this 😂) It's so funny and I just love James and Lily going after a bit of a clueless Sirius 😂

A different kind of tag game?

Hopefully people are keen and @annabtg, @tedwardremus and @jamesunderwater aren't going to kill me for picking them.

I wanted to highlight something of their work that did something to me, and I am hoping at least one of them picks up the ball from here. I want this to be low pressure. It's not necessarily about favourite lines or passages (which dear lord how to narrow that down - there are too many good writers and fics?!). It's more about recreating a bit of the last line / WIP snippet logic with other people's works.

I wondered whether to flag spoilers as two of them pull lines from towards the end, but I wouldn't actually call any of this spoiling. If you read To Shine a Light of Truth, and don't know how it ends, you haven't read the books.

The Chaperone by @annabtg

"Too magic for Petunia, too Muggle for Hogwarts."

Eight words that have stuck with me, to the point the idea manifested itself in one of my fics, something I only realised a couple of months later, re-rereading it.

An Unexpected Ally by @jamesunderwater

Lily Evans had yelled at him, just like always.

I mean I've said it before, this fic broke me. It just did. Obviously, it's a little personal.

To Shine a Light of Truth by @tedwardremus:

There was no obituary in the Daily Prophet. No statement from the Ministry. Just another name gone missing. A whisper in dark rooms occupied by people hiding in a war that was all but lost.

Perfect All Quiet on the Western Front (one of my FAVE novels). It was the most perfect ending to this most perfect fic. And speaking of influencing, Benjy is now a journalist in my story too. I can't not picture him like that after this.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood Part 3

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Three Summary: Lori meets the Brothers.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 4 k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Three Warnings:

Masturbation, caught in the act, flirting, smutty thoughts, embarrassment, angst, fluff.

Authors Note: Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading.

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two Part Four

Lori

We had only been on the highway for a few minutes when I heard the other bikes. They drew up in formation and briefly took up all four lanes. Each rider was wearing their colours and full-face helmets so I couldn’t get a read on any of them, other than they all looked to be close to Sy’s size and build. Well, except one, who seemed a little slimmer, but was at least as tall as the others.

One of the riders signalled something to Syverson who inclined his head in response. Then two of the bikes pulled ahead while two others fell behind and they stayed that way for the rest of the journey.

The problem with being a pillion on a motorcycle, especially on a long stretch of highway, was that you didn’t have much to do except think.

It wasn’t something I normally had a problem with, I was fairly comfortable with my own company for the most part, but I had a lot on my mind and not a lot of it was pleasant.

There was one incessant thought, one that wouldn’t leave me alone despite how often I tried to ignore it. It was inescapable considering my arms were currently wrapped around the subject of those thoughts.

Syverson. He was a complication in my life that I didn't need right now.

The first problem was that he was attracted to me.

I shouldn’t be surprised really. Not because I thought of myself as remarkably good looking, but because he’s a biker and I’d heard the phrase “any hole is a goal” uttered too many times by guys like him to take his attraction as anything more than a passing interest.

When I realised he was checking me out, my first thought was that I should take advantage of it because if I got him on my side it might make dealing with him and the rest of the Brothers easier. So I played up the innocent girl act by biting my lip and looking wide-eyed. But if I'm honest with myself, it had only been partly an act.

The truth was I found Sy to be ridiculously hot. 

And funny. 

And honest. 

And kind. 

And sweet Jesus, when he swept his thumb over my lips I almost moaned.

Which was my second problem. I was attracted to him too.

Sy might appear a little different to most of the bikers I knew, but in the end, he was in the life and that meant he was not a viable option as a romantic partner. I’d seen too much heartache and too many failed relationships to go down that road.

I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life. A life walking around a clubhouse wearing a patch that read “Property of ….” so other assholes don’t try to touch you, always being worried about his fidelity and the social stigma that comes from being associated. Not to mention the constant stress of knowing your partner could end up in jail or dead.

Still, there was no harm in flirting with him, right? Who knows how long I was going to be stuck with them, so what was the harm in having a bit of fun? I’m sure he’d be up for it. I've yet to meet a biker who wasn't keen for a bit of no strings attached sex.

No, not a good idea. Not with Sy anyway. I liked him too much already. He had made me laugh for God’s sake. After all the shit I’d been through, it only took one perfectly imperfect wink for me to melt. If he'd tried to pick me up in a bar and he wasn't in the life, there's no doubt in my mind I’d go home with him. 

No. Hooking up with Sy would be too risky. The last thing I wanted was to catch feelings.

I concentrated on ignoring how hard his body was, how good he smelled, how blue his eyes were, and how cute his dimples were when he smiled.

Fuck. Maybe it was already too late.

After a couple of hours of fixating on Sy and arguing with myself, I finally found something that took my mind off it. 

I was freezing. 

The icy wind of the Arizona desert cut right through my jeans. My knees were starting to ache and my leg muscles cramped. 

I huddled closer to Sy, leaning my head against his shoulder to use his huge form as a windbreak. It worked, mostly, but my hands were unprotected, my gloves were no longer enough to keep my fingers from growing numb. I started making fists, trying to keep the blood pumping, hoping it would warm me up.

I felt Sy take my hands, one at a time, and slip each into his unzipped pockets in the front of his jacket. Instantly they felt warmer, and once again I was surprised by his kind gesture. 

I tightened my arms around him, hoping he’d realise I was trying to thank him. He seemed to understand and gave my knee a gentle pat. He left it there for a few moments, and I could feel the warmth of him heating my cold knee through his glove. 

Ever so slowly, he moved his hand down my calf and rubbed it gently, as if he were massaging heat back into my cramping muscles, before he worked his way up again. I held my breath as he patted my thigh and I squeezed him tight again, this time tightening my thighs as well.

I suddenly didn’t feel quite as cold.

I was not going to fall for him, I was not going to let his tender gestures fool me. I was not going to be seduced by a few moments of sweetness and a nice smile and a strong body and amused eyes so clear and blue they were like the sky on a cloudless day.

No way. Not worth it.

As soon as the cold ebbed away, a sudden wave of weariness hit me and I felt tired. Dead tired. 

The rumbling sound of the v-twin between my legs, its gentle vibration at this speed, and the smoothness of the road became a soothing lullaby, and I found myself dozing, suspended in the twilight between being awake and asleep. It made the final hours fly by and it wasn’t until we turned off the highway that I was able to stay awake.

By the time Sy and the other riders pulled into a motel it was very late, well after midnight, and I felt a little sorry for the other guests. Not many people can sleep through the sound of one set of aftermarket pipes, let alone five. 

When Sy killed the engine, I groaned as a muscle in the bottom of my foot tightened. It was gonna take a minute for me to get off the damn bike and I was a little embarrassed as the others were already lifting their long legs over their rides and Sy was waiting patiently for me to dismount. The guy who had signalled Sy on the highway headed towards hotel reception immediately, not even taking the time to remove his helmet. 

I took a deep breath and willed myself to clamber ungracefully off the bike. My legs protested, but I was able to clear the bike before they gave out and I stumbled into a firm body that caught me by the shoulders before I ate pavement.

“Ooft! Easy sweetheart.”

I looked up at a man with a beard similar to Sy’s, but his hair fell around his face in thick curls, almost like a cherub from an old painting. His blue eyes were serious and a little stern, even as a smile split his face and his voice was unexpectedly warm. My breath caught in my throat, he was gorgeous.

“Has Syverson already worn you out?” he asked in a gentle voice with a soft and polite English accent.

His hands held my upper arms, straightening me until I was standing again. My legs still felt like jelly, and not just because of exhaustion. I was right when I thought the other riders were as big as Sy, this guy was at least as burly. But unlike Syverson this guy had the appearance of a cranky grizzly, having little of Sy’s playfulness despite his smile.

“Ease up, Marshall,” Sy said. I looked at him gratefully and one side of his mouth turned up in a smile in return.

“She’s fine,” Marshall said, and I turned back to him. 

He was staring at me, his head tilted to the side showing off a large black and grey rose tattoo on his neck and a small gage in his ear. He looked like he was studying me, and from the wolfish grin on his face, he seemed to like what he saw. My heart started to race, thundering so loud I thought there was no way he couldn’t hear it. 

“Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I nodded slowly and Marshall tentatively let me go, keeping his hands close as if he thought I would fall again. Once he was satisfied I could stand on my own accord, he loosened the straps of my helmet and gently took it off before smoothing my tousled hair. He tucked the helmet under his arm while he helped me take my gloves off and shoved them into the helmet.

Two more bikers flanked Marshall. Both were unbelievably appealing too. One of them drew my attention immediately because of his unusual and striking appearance. He had silvery-white hair pulled back into a braid which isn’t unusual in itself but his face wasn’t that of an old man; he looked to be in his late 30s. The other was younger, probably my age, no way was he over 25. He appeared to have a youthful enthusiasm that I hadn’t seen in the others.

I stared at all four of them with my mouth no doubt agape. These weren’t bikers, these were models, each one more attractive than the last.

“I’m Mike,” the younger one introduced himself, grinning broadly. 

He was cute and cheerful, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle as if he knew something you didn’t. He had a barbell piercing through his eyebrow and a small stud in one of his ears. There was a glimpse of a tattoo that poked above his jacket and up his neck, but I couldn’t make out what it was. 

I instantly liked him and returned his affable smile. In a way, he reminded me of my brother before the drugs and the club sucked the life out of his eyes. I stuck my hand out to give him a shake, but before I could introduce myself, he threw his arms wide and wrapped them around my waist. He squeezed with a groan and lifted my feet off the ground. I yelped but started to giggle; I was not expecting this level of flirtation within seconds of meeting him. I liked it though, his flirtations came across as playful and fun rather than sleazy.

“Mike,” Sy barked.

“Fuck, alright.” Mike put me down but not before he whispered in my ear, “He never lets me have any fun.” 

Mike planted a quick kiss on my cheek and let me go. Marshall must have seen because he smacked the back of Mike’s head.

“Fucking creep,” Marshall reprimanded. 

I was worried that it would go further than that, but Mike just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head like it was something he was used to.

Sy stood beside me and laid a heavy arm lightly around my shoulders, directing my attention to the other biker.

“This old man is Geralt,” he said, smirking.

Geralt gave Sy a weary look from beneath lowered brows before he offered me his hand with a half-smile. I took it and I gasped as I looked at his eyes, I had never seen such bright amber eyes in real life before. They were beautiful and appeared to shine even in the darkness of the car park. I opened my mouth to tell him my name when I heard another voice behind me.

“Syverson.” A set of keys were thrown at Sy, which Sy caught easily in one hand. “Take the client to her room, you take the first watch.” 

I turned to the guy, he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes were on Marshall, throwing him another set of keys. 

“Marshall, you’re with Mike, second, third shift. Geralt, you’re with me, fourth, I’m fifth. Any questions?”

I felt Sy stiffen, seeming to bristle at the orders. This last Brother was obviously in charge and when he finally looked in my direction, I could see why. 

He took my breath away. He was just as attractive as the others but he had a next level aura of danger that the others couldn’t compete with. He shouldn’t be so good looking; by all rights his Tom Selleck moustache should look ridiculous, but it somehow didn’t.

“Walker,” he said simply.

“Lori,” I managed to mumble. There was something about Walker that simultaneously made me feel hot and cold. He wasn’t tattooed or pierced the way the others were, but he was far more intimidating than the rest of the Brothers.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows as he looked me up and down. 

“She’s pretty,” he said, while still appraising me, and obviously not addressing me, “but I don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as anger and embarrassment swirled within me. I was tired, sore, and been through hell in the two weeks since my parents had been killed; the last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument in a car park. But I knew if I was going to get any respect from this guy I couldn’t let his rudeness slide. I knew guys like Walker and I couldn’t let him get away with shit like that or he’ll think he can walk all over me. 

I was also too exhausted to fight, too tense, so I snatched the keys and my bag out of Sy’s hands and made my way to the room.

“Jesus, Walker,” Sy said behind me. “Do ya always have to be such an asshole?”

If Walker replied, I didn’t hear it. 

I opened my room and slammed the door closed, locking it behind me. I went straight for the bathroom, dropping my pack carelessly on the bed and stripping off my clothes as I went.

The room was basic but clean and well maintained, however the bathroom left a lot to be desired. I took one look at the showerhead and knew it wouldn’t be the best shower of my life. 

When I turned the water on, the pressure was so hard I had to cover my nipples before I could stand to be under the spray. But the water was blessedly hot and was exactly what I needed to soothe away the aches and pains of the ride.

I leaned my forehead against the tiles and took advantage of the harsh spray, letting the water massage my back. It felt good, real good, and as my thoughts started to drift, a familiar need began deep in my core as my body cried out for my nearly nightly ritual before I slept. 

My hand moved slowly over my breasts, nipples hardening under my fingers, I turned around, the water pressure no longer hurt, the stinging pain only served to heighten my arousal. I pressed my back against the cool tiles as my hand drifted lower, the competing temperatures made my skin feel electrified, sensitive to every touch. My fingers danced slowly over my belly, getting lower, and lower until they slid over the small patch of hair on my mound. I shivered as the pads of my fingers ghosted over my clit, seeking the warmth and slick of my throbbing heat.

A moan escaped my throat as I slid two fingers inside me, curling them deeply, feeling for that smooth spongy spot. It was hard to reach at this angle, so I widened my legs, curled my spine and groaned as I found it. 

I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander, thinking for a moment of Jake, my sometimes fuck buddy, but quickly my thoughts shifted, and it was no longer his face I saw in my mind.

Images of Sy came quickly, the way he felt as I held him while we rode. How he had caressed my leg sent shivers up my spine as I imagined him touching me like that again, skin against skin. 

But that wasn’t all, I thought of all of them, Marshall, Mike, Geralt, wondered how each of them would feel. Would their hands be rough on my skin? Would their lips be soft on mine? Would they grunt and groan? Would they whisper words of praise in my ear? Were they dominant, or primal, or tender, or giving, or maybe all of it at once? I know I shouldn’t let these men invade my fantasies, but God, I couldn’t stop.

Then I thought of Walker with that smirk, that teasing grin that made me want to both slap him and drop to my knees.

“Fuck,” I mumbled as my thighs started to tremble.

“Fuck!” cried a louder, deeper voice.

I froze. I became a deer in headlights as I looked towards the door and saw a figure distorted by the thin layer of condensation that clung to the glass of the shower.

Snapping into action, I swiped an arm across the glass catching a fleeting glimpse of a wide-eyed Sy as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, my breath coming in heaves, my guts churning as my face burned with embarrassment.

Okay. Think about this clearly. He couldn’t have actually seen anything, the glass was too fogged up. 

He had heard though, there was no doubt about that. 

Oh God.

I had been thinking about him, and the others too. I had left the bathroom door open and everything, he’s going to think that I did that on purpose. But I didn’t, I had locked the door to the room and…

Asshole!

Fury overtook my shame and I stormed out of the bathroom.

“You pervert! I locked the door.”

Sy was standing by the window, peeking through the curtains. His jacket was off, slung over the back of a chair and a silver handled gun was strapped to his thigh. He turned slowly, taking in my appearance and sucked on his bottom lip as he took a few steps towards me.

“It’s a hotel, Babycakes. They have spare keys.”

“My name is Lori and I would have thought a locked door meant I wanted privacy.”

Shrugging, he grinned. “You ain’t gonna get much privacy until we get to the Clubhouse.”

“What? You’re staying in here?” My voice was a little shrill but Sy nodded and I shook my head. “No. I thought you’d wait outside the door. I don’t want to be sleeping here with… men I don’t know.” 

I almost said Walker but stopped myself. Oddly he was the only one I didn’t feel like I could trust.

“You scared of us, baby?” Sy asked in a low voice.

The back of his fingers skimmed over my still damp shoulder and down my arm. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, his touch was eerily similar to what I had just been fantasising about, gentle yet deliberate, hot and thrilling.

“Why?” My voice was huskier than I hoped it would be. “Does that turn you on? Is that the kind of sick shit your club is into?”

“Not at all,” Sy replied steadily, smirking, “I like my women willin’.” He cupped a hand under my jaw, lifting my chin higher. “Did ya finish the job in there?”

My eyes widened in shock, I didn’t think he would be so bold as to come right out and say what he saw. He chuckled as his hand slid down my neck, resting on the bare skin of my chest.

“I could give ya a hand if ya want,” Sy said, his voice seemed lower if that was possible, deeper, rougher, deliberately seductive, “Might feel good.”

“Is that a standard service you offer as part of your contract or…?” 

I tried to sound disinterested, but my voice betrayed me. I was breathless, my body was a hot, throbbing mess. Sy licked his lips and my eyes were drawn to them. They looked so plush and inviting, and the whiskers surrounding his mouth seemed so soft. 

“It’s an optional extra,” Sy shrugged and his fingers traced the edge of my towel, “But for you, I’ll throw it in for free, no charge.”

“No thanks.”

It’s what I said but it’s not what I meant. I said no out of habit, having said no to men like him my entire life. It was a lie and an obvious one. My fingers were already sinking into his beard, and I could feel him clench his jaw beneath my touch and his nostrils flared. Taking half a step closer, I met his eyes. They were hooded, dark and still held a glimmer of amusement. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, the other snaked around my waist, resting on the small of my back.

“Then how ‘bout I eat ya pussy cause I want to?” 

He pulled me closer, our bodies met and his fingers slid into my hair. I put a hand to the centre of his chest, I had every intention of pushing him away and he must have known because he held me tighter, pressing his hardness into my hip. 

“’Cause I wanna hear ya make those noises again, but this time I want you to make ‘em because of me.”

My core fluttered, no it was more than that, every muscle in my body seemed to quiver with anticipation of his offer, and dear God did he have the confidence of a man that knew he could deliver.

“No thanks,” I managed to utter. Barely.

Sy’s grin didn’t waver as he inhaled deeply and let me go. 

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug and went back to his position by the window.

It took me a minute to get my bearings. I was completely dumbstruck, still overwhelmed by Sy even though he was now across the room.

I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. Fuck me, was I in trouble here.

Sy glanced at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.

“You’re really gonna stay here all night?” I asked.

“For a couple of hours, then one of the others will take over,” he said, his voice sounding a little more serious and matter of fact than it had moments ago.

I didn’t like the sound of that. All five of them coming and going in my room while I slept, me not knowing who I’d wake up to?

Despite Sy’s advance or maybe because of it, I felt like I could trust him and would rather he stayed with me than the others. Having to keep an eye on one horny biker would be easier than having to watch out for five.

I took my bag from the bed and dressed in the bathroom, with the door closed. Though I was beat, I blow dried my hair with the shitty hair dryer the hotel had attached to the wall before braiding it.

While I was brushing my teeth I looked at my pyjamas in the mirror, realising now why Sy had chuckled when he saw them. When I packed, I had no idea the Brothers would actually be in my room with me. The tank top was so thin you could see the dark pinkish skin around my nipples.

The thought made my body warm. Part of me liked the thought of them seeing me like this. But I knew it would be a mistake to go down that road. Nope, my pussy would be a barren wasteland for the foreseeable future.

Pointedly not looking at Sy, I went back into the room and grabbed my shirt from the floor, turning it the right way round and slipping it on over the top.

First thing I was going to do when I got to the clubhouse was buy new pyjamas.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 12 Pretty when I cry

Chapter 12 of Sandstorm

A/N- I'M SO EXCITED FOR WHAT'S TO COME!!!

Warning- Sswearing, fluff, incest, violence, ANGST, death!! Dark magic and sacrifice, talks of pregnancy and THERES ALSO CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There’s a ruined Red Keep that you stand in, two cradles stand in the middle. Snow falls through the gaps on the ceiling, this time albeit it’s slow and so life-like, the bitter breeze that swirls the snowflakes on the ground actually feels cold. Once again just before you can see the babies inside their cradles, the fire begins to grow around you, but this time it's flames actually provide heat and slightly blind your eyes.

You expect the dream to end there and then as it always does, but this time the fire lingers, you don’t abruptly wake up, the fire only grows taller almost as if trapping you inside. The heat intensifies, making you turn your head away and shield your eyes. The silence lingers thereafter and the fire's heat doesn’t change anymore, so you slowly turn your head and put your arm down, that’s when you catch a figure in the fire, it grows taller as it gets closer.

This hasn’t happened before, you never stayed this long. This is…different, something new. Is it the meaning behind this dream?

You narrow your eyes out of curiosity even if your heart is beginning to race out of fear. The figure grows taller the closer it gets, and then when it reaches the edge a shadow casts on the ground before an armored metal boot breaks out of the fire wall. Instead of stepping away even if you have nowhere to go, you stay put and watch the rest of the figure walk out of the fire, revealing herself as a slim woman with silver-gold hair; braided and bound in golden rings. Her eyes are an intense and unique pale lilac color that almost seems to burn as hot as that fire as her glare pierced in you. She shouldn't be unfamiliar but you do recognize her now as the fires light basks her intense majestic face.

It’s Queen Visenya Targaryen.

She is your namesake.

What is she doing here? In this dream? This isn’t an answer, it's only more confusion.

Yet before you can grow mad with confusion, from the corner of your eye you catch another figure emerging from the firewall at your right side. this time it’s a man, a very tall man with a thick and broad appearance, he’s built like a bull. His hair is blond, and his eyes are a deeper lilac. His gaze is as intense as the Queens, but he looks even more intimidating. And just like before, you recognize him too, he’s King Maegor Targaryen.

But why?

“What’s going on?” You ask the pair, the mother and the son.

But there’s no answer, instead a third person appears this time from your left side. It’s a woman, she’s older than the others, slimmer than Queen Visenya, she has a fair complexion and a high forehead. Her eyes aren’t the same color as the others, they’re blue. And like the others there is a name that comes to mind, Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

“What’s—” this time you don’t finish your repeated question because another figure emerges from the fire between Visenya and Alysanne, it’s smaller and the moment their face shows your face falls with disbelief and your eyes fill with tears, and your heart….that shattered thing begins to fill with joy and warmth.

“Rhaenar?” Your voice quivers.

He moves his arm away from his brown eyes and finds you in the middle of the fire circle, and instantly smiles. “Mother!” He exclaims, and before you knew it you were both running towards each other to meet with a tight embrace.

“Oh my sweet boy,” you cry and hold onto him, you draw in a deep breath and take in his scent. “My Rhaenar.” Your breath shudders.

The boy laughs softly and holds onto your neck with force.

“I’m sorry,” you interject and pull back to grab his cheeks and face him, now you notice that his face isn’t burnt, his face is okay here. His curls are so neatly formed and all over his face. “I’m sorry. I failed you, I’m so sorry.”

Rhaenar wipes your tears away and shakes his head with a sweet smile on his face. “It’s alright mother. I’m okay, I’ll be fine. Don’t cry please. I’ll always be with you.”

You shake your head and now grab onto his shoulders. “No. No I’m not ready to be without you, I need you with me in real life. Not here, not in my dreams.”

Rhaenar draws out a deep breath. “They’re not dreams really.” He scoffs. “It’s all real in a way. This place, it’s just been different for everyone, but for you, grandfather says it’s different, you’re the only one who’s seeked far enough to reach all of us. This plane.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and your eyebrows furrow in comfuson. But the first thing you question is what he mentioned moments ago. “Grandfather?”

Rhaenar’s grin widens. “I’m not alone here mother, I have so many people here, family. But most importantly my grandfather! He’s been with me the entire time.” He nods and then looks back, when you follow his line of gaze you see the man he speaks about with so much glee, Rhaegar Targaryen, your father. He emerges from the fire too, with his long silver-gold hair, his deep blue eyes, and a faint smile on his pale face.

His presence fills you with nostalgia, familiarity, and there is a spark of joy, but that soon gets overpowered by the anger, burning fury.

“I know,” he says in that voice you’ve missed hearing sing to you. “I know you’re upset my girl, but—”

“No!” You cut him off and stand up to your feet to stride towards him. “No! You!” You sneer and point at him. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault I grew up without my mother, it’s your fault my sister and brother died!” You reach him and shove him back with that same anger. “It’s all your fault this all happened to us! To our family! You left me! You left us! You left! How could you do that?!”

Your father ducks his head out of shame and swallows thickly. “I will never forgive myself for what happened to your mother and your siblings, but it’s something I won’t regret.”

You scoff and step back.

“It had to be done. To complete the prophecy. Which it has, Jon, Daenerys, you.” He lifts his head and meets your gaze with awe. “Three heads to our dragon, my darling. We did it.”

You clench your jaw and shake your head. “At what cost?” You snap at him. “My son is gone. He’s dead! Daenerys killed him! He was only 10!” You rebuttal. “It’s true the dead are gone and I’m glad that they are, but nothing else matters anymore because so is he. So I ask what now?”

“Now you rule,” a different voice cuts in. When you snap your eyes to where it comes from you notice that it was Queen Visenya. “You will revive the Targaryen dynasty. You will take back what your father destroyed.”

You swallow thickly and rebuttal. “Daenerys rules now. Isn’t that enough? I can’t lose more, Jon, my children that have yet to be born.”

Footsteps step forward from your left side and a sweeter but still rather stern voice speaks. “You stay there in Winterfell and you’ll die too. Your children will always be a threat to her, will you see them die too?”

You snap your eyes to the left and meet Queen Alysanne’s gaze with a glare. “Like hell. I won’t lose them. But you have her, let her rule, it’s not like our family hasn’t killed their own kin before, why not her? Why me?”

“Because she killed your son,” a different voice adds from the fire.

You look towards the flames again and see a different women come out from within them, this woman had a thicker waist compared to the other two, her silver-gold hair was in a long braid as well. She was ethereal as all the others, but also intensity followed within her gaze. You knew her too, a lot quicker than the others, after all she was one of your favorites, that is before she actually ruled; Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“Because you are the one meant to restore our glory, rule like we couldn’t,” she says and begins to approach you. “If she rules, she’ll commit the same mistakes and wipe out the Targaryen name. It’s you who is meant to sit on that throne, your children shall follow, the ice and fire that our prophecy foretold. I know,” she mutters softer now. “What it is like to lose a son…but you aren’t me, use your anger, use your power, use your kindness and take what belongs to you, for your son. For all of us.”

You let out a shaky sigh, but don’t let anymore tears fall now since you’re beginning to be filled with inspiration and anger once again at the memory of what Daenerys did.

“You have a good heart my dear,” your father interjects, pulling your attention to him again. “Use it, be noble, don’t lose what you already have. Those you keep close will carry you through this, but remember to be firm, fearless, stern and unforgiving to those who truly deserve it.”

You sigh but nod. You then look at Rhaenar, but before you can speak your last words to him, a deep husky voice cuts in from your right.

“Don’t be like your father, girl,” Maegor says and begins to walk around you, as if he’s stalking you, a prey. “Don’t be foolish, and don’t live in the clouds,” he scoffs and shoots your father a dirty glare. “Use your fury, your dragon is your best friend, use your strength and power. Take care of business like me.” He stops by his mother and shoots you a malicious smirk before he looks at his mother with a smirk. “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You offer him a nod and shoot him a faint smirk before you face Rhaenar one more time. “I will always, always love you my sweet boy. I’m sorry.”

Rhaenar smiles at you and wipes away that stray tear that falls from your eye. “I love you too, mama. Tell Jon that it’s okay, that I’ll be okay, yes?”

You grin and nod. “Of course.”

He then throws his arms around you and you don’t hesitate to hug him back with all your might. You don’t close your eyes in hopes you’d stay, and it’s why you notice Queen Visenya approaching you one last time. She meets your watery gaze with an intense and burning determined glare.

“Burn your dead, mourn your losses. You are Queen now.” She mutters before the darkness quickly surrounds you at one second before you’re thrown back to the cruel reality, back to your room, back to the coldness.

At least the sun is out today, it’s light is soft but not warm since it is still dawn. It should’ve provided an ounce of happiness, but the natural light finally breaking from the clutches of the winter clouds doesn’t affect you now.

You sigh deeply and wipe your tears away before you look at the bed and find the spot next to you empty, and when you touch it you notice it’s cold, letting you know that Jon has been gone for a while. And since he is your only source of motivation to keep going right now you get up and change to go look for him.

Yet when you reach the crypts he’s not there. You walk to the gates since maybe he’s out with Rhaegal, yet you don’t want to walk all the way over to hills where the dragons are if he isn’t, so you look up and speak to the guards at their post. “Excuse me?!”

A man reaches the rail and looks down. “Princess,” he calls out in surprises and straightens up.

“Has Lord Snow passed the gates?” You ask.

The guard shakes his head. “No, but I did seem him walk towards the Godswood earlier today.”

You hum and nod. “Thank you, sir.”

The guard nods, and you then head towards the Godswood. When you arrive you see the new planted trees begin to sprout where the ashes of the olds ones once stood, leaving a clear view of all the Godswood, and Jon kneeled at the front of the Heart tree.

As to not interrupt his moment of prayer you make sure to slowly approach him, but stop by the frozen lake that’s by the red leaved tree.

Nevertheless, Jon hears your footsteps and turns around. When he notices it’s you his gaze softens for a moment before the sadness on his dark eyes returns.

“Good morrow,” he greets.

You offer a small smile. “Good morrow,” you return and meet him in the middle of the snow covered field. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Jon takes your hands and shakes his head. “I was…done already. What are you doing out here? It’s cold.” He touches your belly and smiles. “Are they giving you fuss?”

You grin and shrug. “Always, but that’s not what got me to awake up.”

Jon lips pull to a bigger smile and he scoffs softly before he drops his gaze and stares at the snow below his feet with a deep sorrowful frown that makes your sadness return, and brews curiosity.

“What is it?” You probe.

Jon lets out a deep sigh and then meets your gaze with a watery look. “I asked for forgiveness from the gods, but it’s you that I truly need to apologize to.”

You slowly knit your brows together in confusion.

“Please,” he continues with tears escaping out of his eyes. “Forgive me. I’m the reason your son is dead. I didn’t reach him in time, I didn’t get rid of the men fast enough. I’m sorry.” Jon drops to his knees and keeps holding your gaze. “I can never make up for what you lost. I’m sorry.”

Tears threaten to come out of your eyes, but you hold them back and just feel your throat sting more as you slowly get on your knees, and cup his cheeks. “What happened is not a guilt you need to carry on your shoulders Jon...” you pause and swallow back thickly. “My life will never be the same without my boy. It is true, but don’t blame yourself. He’s okay.” You muster a soft smile. “He appeared in my dreams, he said he was okay, he told me to tell you that it’s okay.”

Jon slowly grows perplexed, but he knows better now so he accepts what you say is true. “But you—”

“I’ll…heal soon, but I do know that I have nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you, nor should you blame yourself. Please.”

Jon hesitates, so you press your forehead against his and whisper.

“It’s okay, my love. It is. I need you for what’s to come.”

Jon lets out a shaky breath, and then slowly cups your cheeks and keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he stays silent. You know he won’t doubt you, or try to discourage your new plan so you don’t explain what’s on your mind, you linger in the silence and relish in the warmth that radiates from his hands, from his lips, and from his body.

You don’t linger long though since it is cold and the funeral is today. Since you don’t have the stomach to eat so much breakfast is quick, it’s the getting ready that takes time. It’s not easy for you, no matter if you did see Rhaenar in a dream, to get ready for his…funeral, to mentally get ready to say goodbye one more time. But you still do it, you let the handmaidens dress you in a white dress that is dipped in red at the bottom, so the white-beige color flows to a blood red. You let them put on light makeup and fix your silver-white hair, you put on your gold jewelry, and then before you walk out of your chambers you grab Helios from his cage.

His eyes search the room for the boy he was once bonded to, he calls out for him in soft cries that only smash those heart fragments to smaller pieces. And there’s nothing you can tell him to comfort him. Absolutely nothing because you know he also knows deep within his little heart.

“Come on,” you whisper to Helios. “Let’s go.”

Once you step out Jon is waiting outside of your shared quarters, he holds your gaze for a moment before he takes your hand to interlace it with his before you begin walking outside, past the gates, to the top of a snowy hill. People begin to part once they see you approach, the Starks and your sisters then break away from their spots behind the crowd and follow you towards the funeral pyre where Rhaenar’s body lays wrapped in a white shroud.

Time moved normally before you walked through the crowd, but once you begin to walk past the people gathered to reach the pyre time began to move slowly as your mind still tries to comprehend that this is all real. That you’re going to say goodbye to your boy forever.

Tears even fail to fall at those moments you walk forward, even when you reach him your tears don’t break out from your eyes, no. Even if your heart sinks and a shaky breath escapes from your chest, you don’t cry. Instead you let Jon’s hand go and place Helios on Rhaenar’s chest one more time.

The dragon knows, he knew the moment Rhaenar drew his last breath that he was gone and they’d never see each other again. But the dragon like you held onto hope. It’s why Helios crawled to Rhaenar’s neck and sniffed him before he began to nudge his jaw so he’d wake up.

You knew you were being foolish, but you waited for a response. When it doesn’t come and Helios lets out a broken whine, is when you can’t hold back anymore and let a sob escape from your mouth.

Eraxis feeling your sorrow, cries out and fills the silent air with her melancholy song. Helios follows and sings about his own grief, and Rhaegal then joins them too and all three dragons fill the winter air with their sorrow filled songs.

You then drop your forehead on Rhaenar’s and clutch onto his shoulders, you cry and cry until you can’t breathe properly, until you can’t even stand. That’s when Eraxis leans her head forward and tries to wrap her neck around you for comfort and support. It startles some people from the crowd, after all, all they knew about dragons was that they’re fierce, not that they were also comforting and filled with many complex emotions. It got those who weren’t crying already, to shed tears for a boy they hardly knew.

And it was thanks to your dragon's comfort that you were ready, so you scoop up Helios, and as Eraxis raises her head in the sky you turn and walk down the pyre to hand Arya the orange dragon. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “He won’t harm you.”

Arya pulls the dragon back towards her and holds him fearlessly and with slight pride. Now, as you face Rhaenar again, you take Jon’s hand again and lift your chin to sniffle before you part your lips. Yet you can’t muster the word, only sobs.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers and begins to rub your back. “Take your time.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and your chest begins to feel tighter and heavier to the point you can’t breathe anymore, you turn to Jon and bury your face in his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head as he caresses your back softly.

“May he soar the skies in paradise,” Jon interjects. “May he rest and find peace, may he watch over his family. I’m sorry Rhaenar…”

A moment longer passes before you can face the pyre, before you can part your lips and mutter out the right words that tore at your heart. “Dracarys.”

The white dragon draws in a deep breath before she opens her mouth and breathes out fire, bathing the pyre and Rhaenar in her hot and bright red-orange flames.

You stand there in front of the fire, you bask in its heat and let more tears fall out before the anger returns, before that burning fury begins to boil your blood again, bringing back that dream you just had and everything that was said, especially those venomous words spoken by Maegor; “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You won’t hold onto hope for your rekindling anymore, you won’t ask for forgiveness. You’ll seek revenge and what truly belongs to you.

Which is why you slowly turn and face the crowd still gathered in front of the pyre. You meet the gaze of Jon before you face them all with a scowl. “I was asked to fight for the throne by all of you,” you interject loud enough so they can all hear. “I declined out of hope, and a dream that I would know a peaceful life and receive Daenerys forgiveness for my future, for the future I carry within me. But now, after she took what I held so dear in my heart, my first born. Now she will know my wrath, and I hope you all can follow me in my path to the throne. It will be another war, devastating no doubt, but once it is done we will finally know peace because she is just like those that came before her, a tyrant lost in her way.” You sigh, but muster a malicious smirk.

“I hope you all follow me. For my son, for you, for me.” You finish.

And thus, without hesitation the crowd begins to cheer, shouting out only one phrase. “Queen Y/N!”

——

*DAENERYS. KING’S LANDING*

A knock raps on her door, echoing in the tense silence that filled her quarters.

“Come in,” she welcomes the visitor, hoping it was successful news of the ambush. Waiting for the news has been keeping her on edge, she could hardly sleep, or keep in one place, she needed to know.

“My Queen,” a familiar voice she hasn’t heard in a long time cuts through the silence.

Daenerys turns quickly on her heels and comes face to face with Daario Naharis, a man she had left long ago in Meereen to enforce peace, a man who’s appearance hasn’t changed, and someone who she can’t deny is happy to see. After all he is one of few who hasn’t betrayed her, he’s remained loyal even after she broke his heart.

“Why wasn’t I advised you arrived?” She responds with a quirked brow and a faint smirk playing on her lips as he doesn’t fail to make her body ignite with lust.

Daario smirks wider and pulls his hand from behind him to show her the wildflowers he held in his hand. “I came on a faster ship apart from the others because I wanted to surprise you.”

Daenerys hums and watches the man slowly begin to approach her.

“I’ve brought these,” he says and pushes the flowers towards her.

Daenerys breaks away from her spot to slowly walk towards him, stopping just before she can reach him to let him get close to her instead. He offers her the flowers and she hesitantly takes them from his hand to then raise her chin and hold his warm gaze.

“I would just like to say that you look even more beautiful than before,” he adds. “The crown suits you.”

Daenerys places the flowers down on the table beside her and crosses her arms over chest to now press him with her gaze alone.

“Ah,” he says and clasps his hand behind him. “Right. The ambush happened, yet I’m disappointed to say that Lord Snow managed to escape with a couple of his men. The ship burned, most of his men aboard died, and a boy traveling with them perished in the fire.”

Daenerys blinks and furrows her eyebrows. “A boy?” She queries.

Daario nods. “Yes, I’m not sure who, but Lord Snow made great effort to take his body.”

Daenerys lips slowly begin to fall, and her arms slowly unfold from her chest as a name begins to circle her mind.

“Were there dragons in the sky?” She asks him with her gaze begining to narrow.

Daario nods. “Yes. The creatures burned our ship and helped them escape. There was three of them, a white one, Rhaegal, and a small orange one.”

Daenerys swallows thickly and turns around abruptly to look out at the gloomy white sky, and sighs deeply as sorrow begins to stab at her heart and pain fills her mind.

“What is it?” Daario instantly asks and takes a step towards her.

“Wheres Greyworm?” She avoids his question.

“I let him take a second break so I could deliver the news to you personally.”

Such a radiant boy he was, young prince Rhaenar. Regardless of the tension that existed towards the end of the relationship between you and Daenerys, he never was rude to her, he was kind and caring. No matter how short of time she had with the boy, she still cared for him because he was family, and now he’s gone and you're heartbroken.

And she can’t cling onto the hope that the dead boy is someone else, why else would Jon be so desperate to the take the body, why else would Helios be with Jon. Helios is a small dragon still very much attached to who he’s bound to, that dead boy is Rhaenar.

“That boy who perished,” Daenerys mutters and approaches her window with tears clouding her eyes. “Was the son of my niece. It was y/n’s son. How did it come to be? I said just kill Jon and the men he was with.” She stops and exhales deeply before she turns to face him.

Daario stays in his spot and shrugs. “I can’t be certain. You know how battles are? Unpredictable. All I know is that a fire started on the ship. It was an accident.”

Daenerys scoffs and shakes her head. “She won’t see it that way. No one on her side will. If she was ready to make peace before, now we can forget about that, especially with Sansa whispering in her ear.” Daenerys clasps her hands in front of her and drops her head.

“You sit on the throne now,” Daario interjects and steps forward. “They’ll follow you.”

Daenerys snaps her head up to face him. “No,” she snaps. “They won’t. The Reach will rally behind her because of what she gave them, and the future commitment that once bonded them. We can’t even count or try and sway Dorne, even dead they’ll never follow another king or queen that isn’t her or descended from her bloodline.” Daenerys turns and approaches the balcony to gaze out at the city below.

“The Vale of Arryn will follow her because of Sansa, meaning the North is also supporting her,” Daenerys continues to tell Daario. “And the Riverlands…they’ll follow the Starks, making for Five great houses rallying behind her, leaving us with two, the Westerlands if I keep Tyrion alive, and the Stormlands...” she pauses and sighs deeply. “That is if I make our commitment periment with a marriage proposal to the new Warden.”

“And so you shall have it,” he assures her with no argument, and finally closes the gap between them to grab her shoulder and turn her to face him. “You have a fleet, more men. And a dragon experienced in war. You can win this, you only lose if you give up, and I know you’ll fight with fire and blood before that happens.”

Daenerys holds his gaze and hums, feeling relieved that she once again had someone she can trust and talk to.

“We’ll get to work right away, fortifying the walls, whipping the men to shape, and making alliances.” Daarios continues to assure her. “No one will take that throne from you.”

——

*WINTERFELL*

Jon’s voice echoes out from the hall, his words are passionate you know they are because he gives good speeches, but right now his words just don’t register in your mind, all that you can think about is Rhaenar, the new future that you are now paving with this choice. Anger still fuels you and it's what’s pushing you, whilst that motivation after seeing your father and ancestors burns in your veins, waking up something that was dorement before, determination to take what’s yours once and for all.

It’s why you don’t frown, you don’t express sadness in your eyes either as Dornish guards make a path and line up across from each other all the way to the end of the hall where Jon, and the maester awaits with your crown. It’s that burning determination, and that grief that brings you pride as you stand at the end of the lined up guards, with your head up high.

Horns begin to play inside after Jon finishes his speech, letting you finally break away from your spot and create a footprint on the sheet of snow as you begin to stride ahead in between the guards.

The blades they hold above your head begin to fall when you pass them, leaving them to see only your back and the tail of your red dress. When you step inside the warm hall, slowly the people viewing your coronation kneel as you walk past them.

Being here was something you never dreamed about, at least you always thought you’d stand on the platform waiting for your husband to get crowned. Now that you’re here though, now that you see all the people kneel, as you see the guards metal blades glistening against the firelight, you can’t help but smile inside. And the moment you take Jon’s hand as you reach the platform a faint smile finally forms on your lips.

Jon mirrors your gesture and then leans forward to press a kiss on your cheek before he shifts to the side and helps you to your knees. Once you’re secured he moves to the side and lets the maester step forward.

“May the Warrior give her courage,” his voice booms throughout the hall before he daps oil on your forehead. “May the Smith lend strength to her sword and shield,” he continues and adds more oil on your forehead with each saying. “May the Father defend her in her need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light her way to wisdom.” With that last saying instead of oil he dabs blood on your forehead by your request as a sign of your goals, battles to come, and revenge.

When the maester finishes he turns to set the bowls down to instead grab a golden crown forged partly by the gold jewelry that Rhaenar owned so you’ll always carry him with you through this journey as Queen. The maester then turns with the shining gold crown in hand, causing the red shining rubies that are decorated around the crown to twinkle against the firelight. As he lifts the crown you see two small winged dragons holding the red ruby at the center. The moment he places the crown on your head you feel the heavy weight fall on your head, bringing some discomfort.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Visenya Targaryen second of her name is the true heir to the iron Throne,” the Maester adds, causing the crowd behind you to quietly agree.

After that is over Jon leans over and offers his hand, you gladly take it and let him help you to your feet. He then quickly lets you go and kneels before you. It catches you off guard for a second, but you have to remember that you are Queen now and it’s going to happen more often.

Alas, Jon then stands up and drifts his gaze to the crowd. “All hail her grace!” He exclaims. “Visenya, second of her name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm!”

You draw out a small breath and turn, catching the crowd and the guards kneel. You drift your gaze to the right front row and see Elia and Sarella kneel, Sansa curtsy whilst Arya kneels too. You then look to the left front row and see Ser Jaime kneel, Ser Brienne and her ward kneel, Ser Davos takes goes down too, and then as on cue, Eraxis fills the silence and air with her prideful roar, making you finally smirk.

“Long live the Queen!” Elia is the first to exclaim.

“Long live the Queen!” Ser Jaime follows before everyone inside repeats those words as they get up and clap.

Those who carry swords lift their blades in the air and shout. “Queen Y/N!”

Those words fill your ears and bring happy tears to your eyes as you tug your lips to a smile. When you sit on the wooden chair that was placed on the platform more people cheer, and Ser Brienne approaches the stairs that lead to the platform. She gets on one knee and meets your gaze.

You throw your hand out to silence the crowd, and they don’t fail to listen, letting Ser Brienne speak.

“I swear toward the Queen,” she interjects in a loud confident voice. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers. I shall take no husband, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side and defend her name and honor.”

Chills travel down your spine, and a soft smile tugs on your lips. You rise up again and bow your head, letting her stand.

“I appreciate your loyalty and devotion, Ser Brienne. I’d trust no one else but you to be my Lord Commander of the Queensguard.”

Ser Brienne breath draws in a small breath and can’t help her proud smile at the mention of the title you just bestowed upon her.

“I leave it to your judgment to choose the other six who should join the Queensgard. When you have chosen the right people you may bring them to me.” You let her know.

Ser Brienne nods in comprehension and stands back up to return to her spot, leaving you to address the crowd to give them an announcement. “Every ruler needs their most trusted advisor at their side, a friend to confide in. A hand when one’s pair is full. Someone who is not afraid to hide their thoughts or pass judgment. There are many here that I trust to be that with me, but there’s one person who I know won’t fail me, Lady Sansa Stark.”

It was a choice that you had discussed before, and one she took with the condition that when this war is over, and if it is you who sits on the throne then she would step down to be Warden and Lady of the North.

“Lady Sansa, I name you hand of the Queen.” You finish saying, making said person head to the front to kneel. You then turn and grab the pin from Jon to walk towards his sister and hook the golden pin on her chest.

The crowd makes commotion in support of the choice.

“You honor me, Queen Y/N,” Sansa says and stands back on her feet.

You offer her a smile and watch her return to her spot so you can continue to announce to the people who else will be a part of your court. “Now with these battles to come I trust no one else to be my Master of War but my dear husband, and your King Consort, Jon snow.”

At the announcement of both new titles the crowd cheers for Jon, while you look over at him and grin. He breaks away from his spot to stand before you and bow his head. Your smile widens, and you’re filled with glee as you get to finally reveal your gift.

“Arya,” you call out and meet her dark gaze. “If you may please.”

Jon looks back at his sister in confusion and follows her every move as she makes her way to you. You fill with more joy and excitement as she reaches into her sack and pulls out a silver crown that looks similar to yours, but is a bit thinner, and has a golden dragon and a golden wolf holding a ruby at the center.

“Now,” you continue and take the crown from Arya. “I know that you aren’t one to be so flashy, and you’d be content without one, but it is gift from me to you.”

Jon holds your gaze and sighs softly, but he can’t help his faint smile before he kneels, letting you carefully place the crown on his head.

“There,” you say and clasps your hands before you. “Handsome.”

Jon scoffs softly and then stands back up to fall back at your side, letting you continue so you can finally finish and announce your master of whisperers, Bran Stark of course, and lastly your Master of coin Lord Ben Ashfords son, the heir of the Reach, Bernard Ashford. As to the other positions well, you still have yet to fill. Hopefully you’ll get to find the right people soon.

With that said you turn away and head to a different chamber where you will have your first small council meeting that consists of your sisters, Jon, Ser Brienne, Sansa and her siblings, and Ser Jaime.

“You know you did not have to get me this,” Jon breaks his silence as he walks by your side to the meeting quarters. “This crown is not necessary.”

You glance at him and smile. “You are my King Consort, my love, a King needs his crown.”

“I would’ve been fine with a ring,” he counters, making you giggle for the first time since Rhaenar passed.

“I told you,” you retort and hook your arm around his. “It’s a gift. You don’t need to wear it all the time, I just wanted you to have one.”

Jon meets your gaze and hums softly before his gaze softens. “You need to rest, you’ve been on your feet for far too long.”

You roll your head to the side and draw out a deep breath. “Yes, perhaps I should, but there are meetings to be had now. You know this isn’t easy. But for your comfort after this meeting is over we can retreat to our chambers and take a warm bath together, hm?”

Jon nods softly in agreement. “Sounds like a plan,” he assures you. “Not like I could actually refuse you now. You are the Queen.”

You scoff and shake your head. “Don’t start with me Jon.” You chuckle softly, causing Jon to watch you with a soft and admiring gaze and smile since he likes the look of your smile and the sound of your laugh after seeing how much you’ve been suffering.

Yet it is short lived since that sweet look on your face fades away, and gets replaced by a sad confident look when you all enter the meeting quarters.

Now the burden falls on you, after so much that your family did to try and get you on that throne, and after trying to avoid the burden, you wear the crown now and lead thousands. Now rather than listening on the sidelines you sit at the center and have all eyes on you.

“Thank you all for coming,” you address the group as they find their seats around the table. “You’ll have to pardon me for the next couple of meetings. As much as I have studied I still am not used to ruling,” you huff softly and clasps your hands together.

The people around the table don’t say anything to you so let out a deep sigh and continue.

“Let’s get to business then. I know not so long ago I turned down Ser Jaime’s requests of retrieving his brother from the clutches of Daenerys, but now with the sides being drawn, the Westerlands are left undecided. The Lannister’s may not be a strong house, but their name still holds much value, having both men at our side can benefit us. So,” you say and look at Jaime sitting in the middle.

“Ser Jaime, I grant your leave. You won’t have men though, it will attract too much unwanted attention.”

Ser Jaime’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you begin to smirk. “Sarella,” you name, causing the woman to straighten up. “Arya, you are clever, discreet and able to hide well. Will you accompany Ser Jaime to smuggle his brother out?”

Sarella without a fault nods. “Of course, sister.” She assures you, letting you shift your gaze to Arya. And when your eyes land on her a small smirk tugs on her lips.

“I will,” Arya agrees. “Thank you, Queen y/n.”

You offer her a smile and a small nod.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Lord Royce cuts in. “The plan is great and all, the Westerlands may not be the largest land, but they are the richest. It will benefit us well, but with sides set, and Daenerys with a patch of new soldiers, entering the city will be difficult.”

You nod and can’t help your smirk from widening. “Yes. I know. It’s why while the three of them enter the Red Keep, I will lead a distraction.”

The members of the council all share confused and concerned looks at the mention so you explain your plan, and assure their worry. “It won’t be a big army, there won’t even be men, the distraction will consist of only women. I unfortunately won’t join the battle at the ground, I cannot,” you scoff and reach down to caress your swollen belly. “I’ll be in the skies with Jon, while the women go in pretending to seek refuge and help from Daenerys. Her army will come out and provide assistance, they won’t suspect such brutal attacks from women,” you begin to smirk smugly. “They’ll think of them as weak, fragile. That’s when the army women will strike, I will go in later and burn what remains of the small army. After that Jon and I will lead them out before more men can come.”

“If it pleases your grace,” Ser Brienne interjects as she takes a step forward so you can see her. “I would like to lead the attack on the ground in your stead.”

You catch the disbelieved stare of Lord Royce, but you have faith in her; just because she isn’t like every other typical woman doesn’t mean a thing. It’s sad that men here don’t see such a thing.

“Of course you can, Ser Brienne, the army will consist of Dornish women warriors and northern women who volunteer. Any other woman from the other armies of different houses can also join if they please, but we need to keep the numbers small.”

“Understood,” Ser Brienne agrees.

You drift your gaze back to the other members. “We will make that our first attack after the lords pledge their loyalty. With that said, Sansa, what can we expect from the Riverlands?”

Sansa raises her head and parts her lips. “My mother was a Tully. Our uncle still lives and rules now in my grandfathers stead. I expect we will gain their allegiance, but I think we should still go in person and ask.”

You nod. “Alright. We can go after our first attack, that way Daenerys doesn’t get word of our attempts until after. What about the Stormlands?”

“Given Daenerys gave the Stormlands to Gendry and declared him a legitimate Baratheon,” Jon interjects. “I doubt we can count on his allegiance.”

“But the boy doesn’t know a thing about ruling a kingdom or people,” Jaime argues. “Nor does he have the right connections.”

“But he has the Baratheon name now, he may be a bastard but some people will follow his family name,” Ser Davos defends the man. “Surely the staff at the castle would help.”

“I assume not long, any lord could usurp him,” Jaime counters. “We can use that to our advantage.”

“Aye,” Lord Royce agrees.

You look over at Sansa and ask her a question. “Could we send an envoy to any of the other lords?”

Sansa sighs. “We could, but we have to think about the risks, if Gendry bends the knee it would benefit Daenerys to strengthen the alliance with a marriage. She’d burn any rebellion attempts. We have other kingdoms that take priority if it comes down to a battle .”

“We could get rid of Lord Gendry,” you suggest. “That breaks the alliance—but also turns the Stormlands against us.”

“Then we leave them,” Jon adds. “As far as resources, it’s only fighters they provide. We have the numbers, we don’t need them. If a lord reaches out to us then we can think of a plan, until then we count them as traitors.”

“Anyone disagree?” You ask without trying to argue Jon’s suggestion.

The people around the table shake their heads in disagreement, letting you continue on. “ Bran, do you know anything?” You ask the quiet boy.

Bran nods stiffly. “Only confirmation that Daenerys plans to marry Lord Gendry. As soon as he arrives at the capital.”

Just as Sansa mentioned.

“Smart girl,” you comment. “With the Stormlands off the table, we also can’t count on the Iron Islands. With luck we will gain the Westerlands and the Riverlands.” You let out a small breath and then continue. “Anything else someone would like to discuss?”

Everyone looks around, but no one adds anything, thankfully leading this meeting to an end for today.

“Alright, well you all are dismissed, thank you for attending.”

Everyone disperses out of the room, and you wait for them all to leave before you can. However, Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime, Jon and your sisters linger behind.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Brienne directs and bows her head as she addresses you. “But is it okay if I take my leave for today? I would like to start finding the other members for the Queensguard.”

Right that.

“Of course uh, Sarella, Elia,” you call out. “May you introduce Ser Brienne to some of the commanding officers of the Dornish army. There are some great fighters there you can choose from.”

“Yes!” Elia exclaims all too excitedly. “I would love to go.”

Of course she would, she likes to gawk and flirt with the men.

Regardless, they leave but Ser Jaime stays behind still. He takes a moment before he says anything, first he slowly makes his way towards your chair before he finally reveals his thoughts.

“I know I have probably said this, but, thank you. You have been too kind, more than I deserve. You have given me a second chance, and it’s one I don’t deserve and one I will live my life repaying. So thank you, Queen Y/N.” He reaches for his sword and then kneels with his hands on his pommel. “My sword is yours, my Queen. I may not be a great fighter anymore, but I have experience that can be just as valuable. I want to serve you.”

You share a small glance with Jon before you stand on your feet. “Then you shall. I need all the help I can get. And I value your thoughts, Ser Jaime. Just promise that when you see me straying from my moral path that you will help rather than betraying me. Remind me of the people I fight for because some rulers tend to forget who really keeps them in power.”

The corner of Jaime’s lips tug upward before he nods in agreement. “I will. I swear.”

“Great. Then if Jon wants you can help him with the armies. You may also help train the soldiers.”

Jaime gets to his feet and accepts before finally leaving Jon and you alone.

“Now,” Jon says and take your hand. “Can I have you to myself?”

You grab onto his arm and drop your head on his shoulder. “Please, I beg you.”

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

With the anger fueling through your blood, with fury clouding your mind, sleep was impossible, that hunger for revenge kept you awake and raised a desire in you for something to be done. Something that you haven’t touched in a long time, dark magic.

Rhaenar was your son, he was your little boy, and Daenerys took him, she will pay with blood, you will rip everything she has ever loved from her hands so she can feel what it is you feel.

So while the castle is sleeping, while no one can interrupt you, you use the chambers where Daenerys had stayed in to conduct a spell.

“Did you bring it?” You ask Sarella.

Sarella nods and unhooks her cloak to show the small baby in her hands.

You trusted no one else but them, besides the others would only judge you for this dark magic. Elia and Sarella won’t.

“It’s sick,” she mentions. “Mother dead, father drunk and with no love for this child.”

You nod stiffly and take the blade from the flames, and watch as the metal gleams red and orange with how hot it is.

“A dragon will never compare to the love you have for your own children. I want her to feel that love, that joy when she holds her child in her arms for the first time. I want to see her care for that child so much more than her own life so she feels an ounce of what I feel.” You sneer to the flames. “Blood for blood. Son for a son.” You glare at the flames and clench your jaw.

You then turn to grab the bowl off the floor, but just before you can you come to a sudden stop as you swear you see Rhaenar’s face in the flames, you swear you see his sweet brown eyes. And a small frown on his face. It’s only for a second, but you swear you do.

“I’ll use my blood that connects us,” you mutter and put the bowl over the fire. You then put your palm in front of you and use the sharp edge of the blade to cut a slash on your palm.

The pain stings and burns, but you just clench your jaw and keep quiet as the blood begins to spill out of the cut. After the slash is made you put the blade down and put your hand over the fire and fist your hand to make the blood pour over the bowl.

“Now, Elia give it to me,” you interject and put your uninjured hand out.

Without hesitation the girl comes to you and hands you a brush. One Daenerys had left behind when she left Winterfell.

“Now I’ll use her hair to connect this spell to her.” You add and pull the strands of hair off the brush and throw it in the bowl. “Now,” you sigh deeply and feel some hesitance and regret. But your pain is much deeper, so you turn regardless, and Sarella hands you the sickly baby.

“The sacrifice to complete this spell,” you continue and pick up the knife from the floor. You swallow thickly and without thinking deeper into what you’re going to do you slice.

The blood trickles out so you push it towards the fire and let the thick scarlet liquid spill over the bowl. Once the bowl is full you hand the lifeless body back to Sarella. “Feed it to the dragons.” You tell her.

“Now it’s time to finish.” You put the blade down, and put your arms out, you close your eyes and lift your head to begin chanting the needed spell in High Valyrian.

At first you start off quiet, but you get louder and louder, whilst the fire suddenly enrages and sends off sparks and thick smoke as it engulfs the bowl and what it contains inside.

The heat intensifies, bringing sweat to break out on your face, making the dress stick to your skin. The fire's light brightens, making Elia and Sarella shield their eyes.

But the act doesn’t last long, it then ends and the heat and brightness fades back to what it was before. Now nothing remains in the bowl anymore. Now the spell is complete.

“There,” you let your sisters know. “She’s barren no longer. She’ll have a child now and fear my pain. Soon she’ll pay. Son for a son.

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A/N- Now do you guys think Daenerys will have a child with Daario? Or one with Gendry?

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