#it's been years when will i be over these doomed siblings

[poisonf0rest]

genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel. 

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for. I'm also fucking hilarious subjective.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more. 

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~

[anmechokola]

Today is a good day to remember that Sabo will never know Ace. What makes Ace's death a tragedy is that it could have been prevented, he didn't have to die. If only Sabo remembered before, if only Luffy had made it in time in Impel Down, if only Ace hadn't stopped because of Akainu. But he did. He died and he didn't have to and Sabo will never know him. Will never know grown up Ace, Ace who learned manners, who learned to be kind and affectionate, who learned the parts he thought of as Sabo's so he could be that for Luffy too. Ace who made his little brother an impossible promise, who had to choose to break it in the worst possible way (he died in his arms-). Ace who carried Sabo on his arm always, Ace who found a family again, Ace who got captured for love of his little brother, who died for it. Sabo will never know him. Sabo will carry his fruit and his legacy and his duty and love for Luffy and he will willingly be haunted by the ghost and memory of this brother that he once knew better than anyone

[embersofstardust]

i am going to SCREAMMMM why is family such a pain in the ass (vent in tags)

[hargreeves-duncan]

I saw your requests were open and because I'm very hurt/comfort I would like reader to be fives spouse and then the subway happens like the after of everyone learning about it at the house and having to bring up what happened with not only Diego but us as well who thought we [Five and spouse] were happy??? Immaculate. Also I hope you're doing well stay hydrated!

a/n: thank you so much for your request, i am super hydrated, thank you :)) i really loved writing this (even if it is a little angsty) and i hope you love it just as much

summary: you thought you were happy together - if only you knew how wrong you were.

warnings: mentions of canon compliant violence, cheating (obviously), lila x five😬

word count: 2.1k

pt. 2

Christmas Eve would always be a time of joy and merriment for many, and the same had been true for you for all of your life. Even when you’d spent a few decades working as a trained killer for The Commission, the holidays were always a normality and a comfort that you could fall back on, without fail. In between snapping necks and pulling triggers, you’d seen the snow covered hills of Lapland and the warm festivities of Munich’s Christmas Markets and now that you were retired, you could enjoy it all with your family.

The family that your husband, Five, had brought you into. Whilst there was some initial shock from the Hargreeves’ siblings as they found out that not only had their brother aged forty-five years without them on a post-apocalyptic Earth but that he had actually gotten engaged in that time, slowly but surely, they had let you in. They were chaotic, at the best of times, but you loved them all the same and you knew that you’d do anything to protect them now. They were your family, just as much as Five was.

You’d met Five at the commission, when he was worn down by a lengthy four decades of solidarity and you’d pieced him back together. You’d shown him that living wasn’t just a means to an end and that it could be good and loving. You’d joked at the time how silly it was, that the two of you had found love at an organisation designed to kill, for the most part, innocent people. He’d said he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d get to you.

After spending the last few years trying and failing to stop the apocalypse, you weren’t quite those people anymore. Instead, you had grown and evolved but you’d never had the luxury of waiting around for the two of you to settle down and retire like you’d both hoped for. So, when you’d come to this timeline, Five powerless, you hadn’t looked back. You’d gotten married, whilst you knew you still could and you’d lived the last six years in bliss. Five had softened now that there wasn’t the weight of impending doom on his back and you both got to be enveloped in the love you’d worked so hard for without consequence.

Tonight, you had gone over to Diego and Lila’s place to spend the evening with your extended family. At some point in the evening, Five and Lila had reappeared from whatever they’d spent the day doing and since he’d got back, Five had been unsettled. His eyes kept flickering over to Diego and Lila, constantly. He looked seething. Your husband had never been one for public displays of affection and Diego’s increasingly wandering hands must’ve been beginning to anger him, you thought. Five frowned, how was he supposed to enjoy his evening with that sitting across from him? 

Noticing his restlessness, you slipped your hand over his comfortingly, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring slide over your palm, “You okay?”

Five glanced back at you. He cleared his throat and nodded, smiling gently at you, “I’m alright, love.”

Occasionally, Lila would look over at him. She looked shy and timid under Diego’s touch, a look you’d never seen on her before. Lila’s love had always been performative and outlandish. Her affection was everywhere and to see her look so strained in his company was strange. It was entirely foreign to watch it play out and it didn’t match the Lila Hargreeves you’d come to know. Diego noticed too.

Even Luther noticed the tension in the room. He watched as Five rolled his shoulders for the hundredth evening, “What is with you tonight? You’ve barely said a word, Five, when does that ever happen?”

So, it wasn’t just you then? You thought to yourself. A ball of anxiety began to develop in your stomach. You searched Five’s face for the root of the problem. Five sighed and adjusted himself, “It’s called thinking, Luther. You should try it sometime.”

A flurry of shock and distaste shot up from everyone as he said that and you shrank slightly in your seat. Five bristled as you got closer. You frowned.

“I do think, I think you’re an asshole.” Luther clapped back, pouting as he leaned back against the couch. At this moment, you happened to agree. Five didn’t brush you away, physically, but he kept his eyes forward, anywhere but down at you. You felt dread in the pit of your stomach.

Five continued to avoid your gaze as Allison sighed, brushing her hair from her face, “Okay, can we not do this right now?” Her eyes drifted pointedly to Claire, Grace and the twins in the corner of the room, happily occupying themselves with toys and the tv which displayed a graceful ballerina one of the girls was currently trying to imitate.

“No, let’s. Let’s do this now.” Five said, smiling bitterly at her as he stood from the couch and dropped your hand.

You sighed, sitting forward, “Five-”

“Five, it’s gonna be okay.” Lila interrupted, smiling reassuringly from where she sat. Your head swivelled around to her, in time with Diego’s, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you had the chance to question Lila, Five smiled sarcastically at you all, moving his hand to cut her off, “No, it’s not gonna be okay.”

Diego shot from his seat, chuckling, “Hey, come on, man. Don’t talk to my wife like that. Not tonight. Not on Christmas.”

Five squares up to him, broadening his shoulders and raising his eyebrows at his brother, “You going to do something about it, fuckface?”

An uproar of protests from all of the others. Your eyes widen as things begin to escalate and you stand up, reaching for his arm, “Five!”

He glances back at you. Diego scoffs and steps closer, prodding Five’s chest, “Yeah, I’m gonna K-I-C-K your A-S-S, man.”

“Oh wow, somebody’s passed the first grade.” Five says sarcastically, still not backing down. 

“Five.” You say again, more forcefully as you step up to them. Lila gets up and steps between them, putting her hands on each of their chests and pushing them away from one another. Your eyes flare as you watch her fingers skim Five’s chest. They follow her hand up to her wrist and-

“What is that?” You ask, reaching for her wrist. A silver bracelet, woven like vines, dangles from her arm. You roll your sleeve back, looking at your own bracelet. The one that Five had given you on some anniversary or other, he’d had it made especially for you - strung together with gold, because silver was too trivial for someone like you, he’d said.

The bracelet felt trivial altogether as you looked at its pattern now, beside Lila’s - practically identical to your own. Cheaper, yes, but still like yours, “What’s what?” Lila asked innocently, taking her wrist back.

“That thing on your wrist.” Diego’s eyebrows furrow as he takes Lila’s wrist and he glances between your wrist and Lila’s, “You hate bracelets. You traded the one that I got you for Valentine’s last year to the pawn shop. What…”

“Where did you get it?” You demand, looking her in the eye with a determination that you haven’t felt in years. Lila stands there guiltily, leaning in Five’s direction and your heart sinks. Diego watches, the dots connecting in his mind.

“Did you give her that?” He asks, stepping closer to Five. Lila reaches out for him and he shrugs her off, “No, answer the question, Five. Did you give her that?”

“I made it.” Five answers, hands slipping into his pockets. He’s casual, as if it means nothing, and that only makes it hurt so much more because if this gift to Lila means nothing, then you must mean even less.

“You made it… for her?” You say, hurt and grief for the life you’ve had together seeping into your voice. And just when you think he can’t get any more cruel…

“Who does it look like I made it for?” He says, looking over at you, and your heart shrivels up painfully. A dull ache blooms in your chest and you can’t even form a response because he’s being so cutting and it’s something you’ve never had from him before.

Diego steps up, pressing a hand to your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pushes you back. He takes a breath and looks between Lila and Five, biting his lip, “Is there something going on between you two?”

The two stare silently for a moment and Lila’s voice grows soft as she looks at her husband, “Diego-”

Diego holds his hands up and turns away, “Holy shit… Holy shit, I was right!” He says, pointing at them both, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment in the people he’d trusted.

“Book club, a- all this time, you- you were cheating on me with…” He can’t even get the words out properly as he looks at them, his stutter resurfacing as his emotions get the better of him. He looks over at you, your eyes widen further, if that’s even possible as you realise things for yourself.

“Oh my god… oh my god, I am a complete and utter fool.” You say, laughing in shock as you mentally take a step back from the last few months.

This is what you got for letting your guard down, you supposed, “I can’t believe you… why did I never… you were never doing research, were you? You were off with her.”

“Now, just wait-” Five starts, holding his hands up and trying to approach you at the same time that Lila says, “No, we weren’t cheating on you. At least, not when you thought we were…”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, scoffing and folding your arms over your chest.

“It means that, for us, it’s been seven years. I blinked us to the subway and we got stuck down there.” Five said, stepping forward.

“Please, tell me you’re joking.” You say, shoulders dropping as your heart clenches, all of your defences falling.

“Love, I wish I was.” He says tenderly, stepping closer to you again. He takes a deep breath, “We were lost for seven years, Y/N.”

Seven years. He’d spent almost as much time with her as he had with you. Were you really that disposable? You’d thought that things were good between the two of you, great even, but the moment he’d been out of your sights, he’d done this…

Breaking down, you sit back on the couch, putting your head in your hands as you blink back tears. Five sighs, sitting beside you, “We went through a lot of timelines and I promise, I never stopped trying to get home, you know I never would, but… I got tired. Tired of failing over and over and I had to stop.”

“I wouldn’t have given up.” You say, drying your eyes as you look up at him again. Five smiles tiredly, shaking his head.

“You can’t know that.” He says, looking over at you. His eyes are soft, but it doesn’t stop the harsh sting of what he says. 

“I can, because I love you, it’s as simple as that.” You protest, looking at him brokenly, “You wouldn’t have stopped looking if you loved me the way that I love you.”

He rubs his thumb over his clenched knuckles, sighing, “Don’t say that. You know that I love you.”

“Of course. And her? What about Lila? Do you love her too?” You challenge, eyes flitting over every pore in his face, seeking an answer or an apology, anything that isn’t going to confirm what you so deeply fear; that he doesn’t love you anymore.

Lila perks up from where she’s standing beside Diego. Diego’s face drops and all either of you can do is watch as your partners lock eyes with one another instead of you. Five sighs, glancing back at you, “Y/N, now is really not the time for-”

“Do you love her?” You ask again.

He glances between the two of you and sighs again. It feels like that’s all he’s capable of doing right now, sighing. You want to scream or yell or cry because that isn’t fair, he doesn’t get to be frustrated or hurt when this is his fault and you shouldn’t be feeling bad for him when he looks so defeated but you just can’t help it because it’s Five, your Five, and you’ve never known anything else but wanting what’s best for him.

He parts his lips, about to speak, before Claire interrupts from where she’s sat on the floor, “Hey, grown-ups! Look at the TV! Isn’t that Uncle Ben?”

Five stands up to look with the other Hargreeves and you steady yourself. This is okay, you think, you can let things go on as normal. Just for a little longer.

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

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Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[aesteries]

 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆  ─ ❝everbloom❞ ─  jacaerys velaryon and tyrell!reader. | the unforgettable gift of a first-time lover.

❝If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.❞

WARNINGS: attempt at fluff smut, everything threatens to choke jacaerys, he needs new lungs, mentions of arranged marriages, baela and unnamed betrothed are aware, reader is from house tyrell but with no description of features other than having breasts, friends and first love to strangers, doomed, first-time sex for both of them, loss of virginity as a gift, semi-public oral (m&f), unprotected p in v, love marking, worship.

words: 9.9k

Winter had fast approached King's Landing, the barely-felt chill seeping through the castle’s stone walls in an attempt at soothing the usual humid heat of the capital, like a faint veil compared to what it could do just a few hours on dragonback away. The days started late now and were much shorter, with a dim sun struggling to rise over the horizon on the morrow. Its sibling, the moon, chased after it as it barely reached its peak across the sky, a mocking younger brother eager to ruin its sibling. The shift of the season had brought a different effect on the family, as the usual venom underneath seemingly innocent words had been packed away with the autumn leaves and spring’s blooming flowers. 

The empty chambers of the southern wing of the castle would soon be filled with life, laughter, and music with the visit of members of Great Houses as they paid their seasonal visits to celebrate the holy days of the Faith of the Seven with their liege. To Jace, though, winter brought something completely different. Despite the blood of the dragon that ran through his veins and ignited himself, the lick of his winter nameday sent shivers down his spine. 

Ten and eight.

It would all change for him in the coming year—a turning point, for better or worse; he could not decide yet. Now a man grown, his long-awaited union with his betrothed would be formalised with the blessings of a grand ceremony in front of the important people of the seven kingdoms. A wedding would open doors to new responsibilities, tasks, and worries. This rite of passage, the bounding of a ring on his finger and his soul with another, would also take him to a new place in the royal council, where he was to assume a more important role, a heavier voice over esteemed lords, as he began to prepare for his future. 

It was what he wanted all along, or at least, it was what he had been raised to desire. So, on the very day of his nameday feast, as he leaned against one of the silent corridors of the Red Keep with his eyes falling over the training yard to watch his younger siblings quarrel, he could not help but feel the anxiety build in the pit of his stomach, an annoying itch that he could not ignore.

His brown eyes, as intense as fire, were fixed on the two small frames that moved in sync with the older men, white hair caught in the light as the sun began to dance over the sky while the moon teased its appearance. Aegon and Viserys, sons of their mother’s second marriage, were the very image of Old Valyria, with pure dragon-blooded ancestry on their skin. Despite the immense love he felt for them, a nagging doubt crept into his mind—would one of them eventually turn against him when he claimed the throne, fuelled by the whispers and speculation surrounding his true lineage? He forced himself to take a deep breath, suppressing the bitter taste of anxiety and the lump that often formed in his throat, threatening to choke the air out of him.

Jacaerys had been so consumed by the uncertainty of his future, his blood, and his life that he failed to notice as a second heartbeat approached him slowly, a quiet rustle of fancy clothes while the figure tiptoed around corners and down the deserted corridor where he remained. Normally, his senses would have been on high alert, but this particular day, his mind was elsewhere, making him vulnerable to the sneakiest of attacks. The delicate figure moved closer with an almost mischievous glint in their eye, savouring the element of surprise they had over the young prince. 

A hand crept forward, slender index finger extended, poised to deliver a playful jab to his ribcage. And then, the figure exclaimed, “Boo!”

Jacaerys’ soul was yanked out of his body, or so it felt like, leaving him disoriented as he spun around with indignation, ready to confront whoever had dared to disturb his daydreaming. But instead of finding a scowling, unfamiliar face, his gaze fell upon a vision that had him choking on the very air he was breathing. It was her, beauty and grace, an everblooming flower. His heart raced at the mere sight of his first love, the secret that he guarded fiercely, his one and only. The memories of the countless summers they spent together came flooding back as he set his eye on hers. As children, the two had spent two moons every year together after their mothers formed a strong bond and brought the two families together. The nostalgic ache in Jacaerys' chest reminded him of the joy, the laughter, and the secrets they had shared.

Even now, no longer a child, her face still blossomed with that radiant smile that had first captivated him. Her cheeks flushed with the gentle touch of rose petals, a kiss of flowers on her skin. Her eyes, so vibrant and full of life, sparkled with mischief under the golden hour. The corner of her full lips twisted into that smile that always told the truth of her intentions, the playfulness of it all. She stood tall, taller than before, with her hands behind her back in perfect poise, as expected of a high-born lady. Her voice remained that sweet melody that soothed his heart, a song from the wind. "It is nice to see you again, my prince," she greeted him.

He curtsied with exaggerated flair, his eyes never straying from hers as his entire self relaxed in front of her, his worries slipping away with the winter breeze. ”My Lady Tyrell," he laughed.

Her response was immediate, infectious laughter bursting from her like a ray of sun making its way through a cloudy day. She had to cover her mouth to try and contain the radiant smile that threatened to take over her entire face, and he was quick to join in with her laugh, their voices echoing through the empty corridor like the misbehaved children they used to be. He took a step forward, his arms opening wide to welcome his girl in a warm embrace, and for a brief moment, they were lost in the joy of their reunion. It had been a long year without each other, and exchanging letters was nothing compared to having her in his arms. Her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin—the stinky dragon, as she would say, had become her most favourite smell in the world. When they finally drew apart, their eyes met, a loving gaze.

“Happy nameday, you dirt-eater.” Her voice trembled as she could barely hide her excitement. The butterflies in her stomach took flight, fluttering with anticipation, nothing in comparison to the wild dragons of the prince before her. He cleared his throat, shoulders squaring as he pulled himself together, the embarrassingly dumb smile still plastered on his face. She brought forward a mysterious box that she had been hiding behind her back and away from his attention, wrapped in delicate pieces of black cloth and with a green velvet ribbon keeping it together. The wrapping could have used some work, as it was obviously put together by her own hand, but that only added to the charm. The weight of the box was unexpected, and as he accepted it, the object inside shifted, its contents rattling softly against the sides.

His hand quivered like a weak leaf as he grasped the delicate box, and the words barely escaped his lips, "A gift, my flower?" His voice trembled as he whispered, "Your presence is enough to illuminate my world.”

Jacaerys gazed into the colour of her eyes, the tidal waves of memories crashing over him like the shores of Dragonstone, a reminder of home, taking him back to the earliest days of their friendship. He could recall their initial encounter, an awkward meeting forced by their mothers, which, in the end, marked the beginning of a bond that would blossom into something more beautiful. The countless afternoons they spent playing, laughing, and bickering when they fought like the children that they were, the many falls and scrapes that left them bruised, and the quiet comfort when words were unnecessary. The innocence of those days had been kind to them, allowing them to unfold together like the petals of a flower. And who would forget that one life-changing night when, at the tender age of ten and two, they stole each other away to the darkest corners to experience the love they witnessed from the adults with inexperienced kisses and hugs that were kept secret from the prying eyes of others?

And after all these years, as they continued to steal glances and kisses and love only they could understand, the emotions between them intensified, refusing to be extinguished even as their moments together began to grow forbidden and inappropriate as they reached maturity. 

She flashed a confident smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief, as she reached forward to unveil the gift that would forever bind them together. "I had to," she said, her voice low and husky, "so you'll always carry a piece of me with you, even as we take on our separate journeys into adulthood."

He tugged on the ribbon with extreme care, his eyes widening as the wrapping made way to reveal the treasure within. The box creaked open, allowing him to set his gaze on the stunning dagger that was nestled in a bed of white velvet. The handle was crafted from a vibrant green glass that matched the scales of his dragon, and a bright red rose was suspended within the glass, a symbol of their unbreakable bond. A dragon and a rose, together forever.

She took a step closer, enveloping him in the familiar flowery perfume that he adored, making his senses tingle. She pointed to the rose with a delicate finger, her eyes searching for him. “A little bit of you and a little bit of me,” she smiled, “so you never forget me.” The dagger was the perfect representation of both of them, and he would treasure it with his life. 

“I would never be capable of forgetting you.” He whispered, his voice broken with emotion. The weight of her gesture was still shaking his heart as he set the gift aside on the railing behind him, freeing his hands to take hold of his beloved once again and bring her against his chest for another warm embrace. Her body moulded perfectly against his, and her arms wrapped around his middle as he continued to praise her, “You are my flower.”

They knew that it was dangerous, forbidden, wrong even. They were promised to others, bound by duties and law far greater than themselves, yet the feeling of being in each other's arms was difficult to compare, intoxicating, a sweet temptation. The young lady could feel his heartbeat as she rested against his chest, a soothing melody while Jace buried his face in her hair, wishing he never had to let go of her. He felt like a bee stuck in honey, unable to tear himself away from the sweetness of their embrace. The dagger was long forgotten as they lost themselves in the tender embrace, feeling her love as his most precious gift. The warmth of their bodies intertwined, and the world around them melted away, leaving only the softness of her skin and the rhythmic beating of their hearts. He leaned down, his breath caressing the shell of her ear, and whispered, “You look more beautiful every time I look at you.”

She pulled back from his embrace, her eyes locked on his as her face flushed with the most gentle of colours at his compliment. Her soft and gentle hands cupped his face lovingly, bringing him to her for a brush of their lips. Their mouths parted over each other, overwhelmed by their need for each other. Jace’s arms encircled her waist, surrendering to her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing their kiss to escalate into an all-consuming dance of romance. 

He was powerless against her lips, giving in to their sweetness, drawing him. His kisses travelled to the corner of her mouth, teasing a gentle path down her jawline to the irresistible softness of her skin as he left a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. Eventually, he found himself at the sensual curve of her chest, ghosting over her collarbones, aching to move further down the neckline. She knew his longing too well, all the signs that he yearned for more, and she felt the same way. Yet, Jacaerys was a gentleman, and he would never be the one to cross the line between them. The decision, then, rested with her, and she was willing to take the risk. With a subtle tilt of her head, she created space for him, her slender fingers weaving through his curls as she drew him closer, his face disappearing into the softness of her chest, nestled between the curves that spilt over the edge of her gown.

He took a deep, sharp breath as his fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress, his heart racing like a runaway horse, pounding painfully inside of his chest. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remember that she deserved respect, that she should not be in his mind the way that she was. But then, he heard a sound that was like nothing he had ever heard before—a soft, angelic moan that sent a shiver down his spine. The sound made the sweetest of melodies seem dull in comparison, an intoxicating sound that consumed him. He needed to hear it again; he needed more of it.

Completely under the charm of her music, his hand began its journey over the delicate curves of her waist and bodice. His fingers, trembling in an inexperienced dance, curled around the fabric to pull it downwards and reveal the promise of her form while his other hand wrested with the stubborn laces that kept her hidden away, tugging almost desperately for release. He needed to put his lips on her skin once again, to draw out that melody, to hear her. Her once steady breath now quickened, becoming shallow and laboured, her chest rising and falling as if her very being depended on the touch of his lips. The air was heavy with anticipation, his passion a tempest waiting to be freed.

At last, the laces gave up, and her breasts, heavy and eager, spilt forth from their confines. His lips claimed one of them, his tongue dancing across the tender flesh to taste the sweetness of her forbidden skin. A shiver ran through her, a delicious ache spreading through her body as the unfamiliar sensation ignited her senses, her core growing wetter and wetter, her thighs involuntarily pressing together. He could barely contain his desire. There was so much he wanted to do, so little time, so little space. For now, he would be content with this, with the soft gasps escaping her lips as he teased and tormented her. He broke free, his mouth seeking hers once more, while his hands, possessive and demanding, kneaded her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles over her hardened peaks.

"My prince..." Her voice was a barely audible whisper of lust, lost to the feeling of his mouth on her sensitive body. Her eyes seemed clouded, half-lidded and unfocused, lost in a sea of emotions that made it difficult to form coherent thoughts, yet her purpose remained clear. "Let me..." she struggled to start through her breathing, but her sentence remained unfinished as his lips crashed on hers once again in a fervent dance of open-mouthed kisses, the world fading away and leaving only the sweet, sweet sensation of their lips together.

Her hand, delicate in its dance, wandered down his torso, caressing the contours of his body, trailing over his hips until she finally found her way to the bulge that had formed at the front of his pants. It was his name-day celebration; he would be receiving many gifts, and she was determined to make hers stand out from the rest. She pulled back from his kiss, his lips chasing hers in an attempt to reconnect. He looked into her eyes and noticed that glint, that dangerous, mischievous smile across her face, her warning sign. She was plotting something, and he would be at her mercy.

She whispered a husky promise, her breath dancing across his ear: “Let me make you feel good, Jace.” The sight was the very image of sin itself, as the beautiful girl lowered herself on her knees for him, her bright eyes looking up into his with a wicked innocence.

She wasted no time, her fingers moving with calmness and precision as she navigated the threads that kept his breeches tightly over his hips. In stark contrast to him, who had awkwardly struggled with her laces, it was as if she had rehearsed this very moment, her hands moving with a practiced confidence that left him in the dust. In no time, his breeches had been lowered to his thighs alongside the small clothes that had covered him, the cold breeze brushing past his hardness.

He was a sight to behold, pulsing with life. A glistening sheen of pre-cum on the surface of his cock, tracing a path down the sides as he leaked in anticipation. His head was a shade of pink, bordering on an angry red as it demanded attention, and the sight sent shivers down her spine to ignite the fire in her core. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out, her fingers taking his base and gently wrapping around him to feel him for the first time. Jace gasped, but he bit his lip to stop himself from making another sound, fearing he'd turn into a pathetic, whimpering mess in front of her. It was strange for the both of them, yet they were eager to see what this would bring. Slowly, she guided him towards her mouth.

He could not help the thunderous groan as her mouth engulfed his lenght, the sound so loud that it worried him that the people in the courtyard below might hear him. He reached back for the cold railing that was behind him, his knuckles turning white as he kept himself from falling to the ground at the new pleasure he had discovered. His eyes were squeezed shut, his chiselled features twisted as the intense heat surged through his body like a raging fire, consuming every fibre of his being.

She did not stop until she had taken his entire member, the salty tang coating her tongue as he entered her inch by inch, with the tip teasing the back of her throat. She could feel the threat of gagging, so she gently coaxed him back out and took on a rhythm. A dirtier, more sinful dance began, a symphony of fluids as she bobbed her head, taking him deep and pulling back to tease his swollen tip with her tongue. His body was a fountain, spilling forth a cascade of precum that trailed down her chin, neck, and chest, each drop a testament to her power over him.

Jace's soft moans spilt through the hand on his mouth, his sensitivity driving him to the brink of ecstasy with each lick and suck. His body contorted, his hips eager to push deeper into her mouth, desperate for the delicious torture she gave him.

Her hand joined, stroking the shaft when it left her mouth, moving softly over the wet saliva left behind from her mouth. Her eyes moved up, such a sinful sight for both of them, and met with his. Jace could feel the promise of fire burning away at the pit of his stomach, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the sounds of her mouth as she swallowed him to the base and brought him right back in a new pace, quickening by the second and encouraged by the pathetic sounds that left his mouth. His tip teased the back of her throat with a strange tickle, yet she did not mind and continued to take as much of him as she could and bury him to the very end. With a strangled groan, he reached his breaking point, his body convulsing as he released his seed over her. It coated her face, neck, and chest as she pulled herself back from his pulsating cock, dripping cum as the prince left himself be consumed by his orgasm. 

He was swept away to celestial realms, and his eyelids squeezed shut with an intensity that bordered on pain, his eyebrows furrowed. Every muscle in his face was contorted, twisted by an overwhelming emotion that had taken over his entire being. The air seemed to vibrate with his ragged gasps as he struggled to refill his lungs, his body slowly descending back to earth. As his eyes fluttered open, his gaze drifted downwards, drinking in the breathtaking sight before him.

He found her even more beautiful, a twisted sort of beauty, marked by his possession. Her skin, glistening with his seed, was proof of his pleasure.

Jacaerys quickly lowered himself, reaching for the crimson cape that draped over his shoulders as he was brought back to reality. He took his time, savouring the moment as he wiped away the remnants of his passion. His shaky fingers lingered on her breasts, enjoying the gentle bounce as he pressed against them to clean off her skin. "You shouldn't have done that, my lady," he murmured, his voice low and husky, slightly wavering from the pleasure he had felt. 

"Why not, my prince?" she replied as her finger wiped some of the remains on the corner of her mouth.

He felt the weight of expectation on his shoulders, the grip of duty around his neck, as he struggled to find the words. It was not proper, he wanted to say; it is not meant to be; it is wrong. So many words swirled in his mind, yet he could not convey the message. He could not form the words to say that what they had done had been a mistake because deep inside he felt that it was not. He was bound to marry his cousin, Baela, in a strategic union while she was promised to a lord of another prominent house, yet as they stood together, bathed in the glow of each other’s presence, the ties that had been made for them seemed to burn into insignificance, overtaken by the hum of their forbidden bond. 

She gazed into his eyes, clouded by his torment, duty and passion struggling to dominate the other. With a tender gesture, she cradled his face in her hands once again, her lips uttering a gentle whisper of his name, "Jacaerys...". His eyes brimmed with tears, perhaps not of sadness, but out of frustration that he fought to conceal. The longing in his heart was palpable—he yearned for her with his entire being, yet the gods had forbidden their love with a cruel fate that taunted them. In a matter of weeks, they would be in someone else's arms. She was bound to a man she did not know, and he, to a woman who couldn't claim his heart. 

But for now, they could find comfort in each other’s lips.

The palace was buzzing with excitement as people gathered to celebrate the day of the heir's firstborn son. Jacaerys was overwhelmed by the attention, sitting at the centre of the grand feast with everyone fixed on him. The sound of laughter and chatter and music gave him a pulsating headache, and he had no choice but to ignore it as the many lords and ladies came to pay respects, bowing and introducing each other before returning to their seats. He had to sit through all of the greetings and listen to the repetitive wishes for his health and happiness. He sat stiffly between his mother, Queen Rhaenyra, and his cousin and betrothed, Princess Baela, who chatted incessantly, trying to engage him in conversation, completely unaware of his discomfort.

He was a pathetic man, he decided, as he felt the bitter gust of jealousy sweeping over him every time his eyes were drawn to that specific corner of the room to see her laughing with the man she was to marry. He couldn’t help but wonder if their encounter had already been forgotten as she seemed so carefree while his manhood still pulsated with the ghost of her mouth. His mind constantly replayed the moment, over and over, tormenting him and leaving him aching for another taste.

"Jacaerys." Baela's voice cut through the air, stern and with an obvious anger that had him whipping his head back to face her. Her features were twisted in a deep frown, her eyes blazing with the hint of fire that seemed to burn him away with her mere gaze. "I see how you're looking at her." her voice was low, not wanting anyone around them to hear her words, "Everyone can see."

He let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he began to explain, "It's just—" 

But Baela wouldn't let him finish, her interruption swift, like the stab of a knife.

"No." She snapped, and her voice was like the crack of thunder that shook him awake in the middle of the night. "I will not go through the embarrassment of an affair, Jace. This must end before we are wed, or there will be consequences." Her words were an obvious threat, making him wonder what exactly she meant by that. What else could she do? She already knew that they were destined to fail, to wither away, and she just had to get through one last night before she was out of their life, hopefully, forever. She hated doing that to him, but Baela knew that she was as tied as Jacaerys in this situation, and she would not become the laughingstock of the court.

But his flower commanded attention with the dress of deep crimson that she wore, decorated with intricate gold details and a daringly low neckline that drew the eyes of the room to her beauty. It was impossible to look away from her; his gaze was stuck on the way her locks cascaded down her shoulders and back, with a sprinkling of jewels falling over her forehead to add to the captivating presence. She must have felt the weight of his eyes, he thought, as she slowly turned towards him, and their eyes locked, which made him feel impossibly close to her. The rest of the room faded like mist, insignificant.

He pushed his chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor, and rose from the table, his family's eyes upon him. As he walked around the table, his boots clicked on the floor, and he caught a glimpse of Baela's questioning gaze, but he dared her to speak out against him as he raised his head. His legs carried him towards the far end of the hall where his lady sat with her family. The members of House Tyrell ceased their conversation, their faces sombre, like if a shadow had fallen over them, as he halted beside their table, his hand extended in invitation to the youngest daughter of Lord Tyrell. Next to her, her own betrothed's face flushed, but he couldn't refuse a prince of the realm, no matter how awkward the situation. The eyes of the men met for a second, and there was a clear rivalry in them, but one was declared the winner by the gentle touch of her hand.

"A dance, my lady?" he asked, his deep voice ringing out across the silent corner, his eyes locked on hers, expectation on his face.

She didn't need to be asked twice. The prince grasped her hand, pulling her into the whirlwind of dancers on the crowded floor. As they took their position, his hand settled comfortably on her hip, a gesture that felt like second nature. 

Everything seemed effortless with him by her side, and she could not explain why being with him made her feel that way. So intimate, so loving, so carefree, and yet so heartbreaking. They spun across the floor in a perfect dance, just like they had done since they met, and now no longer children. They laughed together as one made a mistake, stepping over the foot of the other, but the joy was overflowing between them. They must have danced for too long, because the couples around them shifted, came, and went while they remained the same. As he looked at her, he was once again hit by the realisation of their relationship, and there was a sinking feeling in his chest. Yet he was forced to push it aside for her, who looked radiant with her smile as he twirled her around once more. As they swayed to the rhythm, the girl leaned in close, her chest pressed against Jace's, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have another surprise for you."

A mischievous grin spread across his face as he played along. "What more could you possibly give me?" 

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, and Jace was captivated by the intensity of her gaze. It was as if the very fire of candlelight burnt behind her eyes, melting his heart and awakening feelings he'd never experienced before. The back of her hand dared to caress the skin of his cheek in a scandalous public gesture as her lips curled, a dangerous smirk.

Her words stopped him in his tracks.

"Tonight..." Her voice was soft. "I will gift myself to you, and you will be the first to watch as I come undone completely beneath your touch."

And when the music had reached its climax, she slipped through the sea of dancers, her figure consumed by the crowd in a fascinating disappearing act. The sounds, colours, and sensations blurred around him as he frantically scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of her and her gown, but she was gone, a petal gone with the wind. 

A whirlpool of emotions destroyed him, a dangerous mixture of worry, excitement, and fear. His heart was racing like a free stallion running through the open vale as his mind went around the whispers of his flower. The gentle touch of her hand on his arm, the rustle of her gown, the smile... the secrets. He found himself dragged back to his position within the rest of the royal family. He stood frozen, lost in time, completely unaware of the eyes of his family on him until he was nudged forward to prepare to give his speech to his guests. His heart sank with her absence; instead, he locked eyes with one of her sisters, whose knowing glint told him she was aware of her younger sister’s mischief. The sister's piercing gaze seemed to hold a secret message; she was silently daring him to wonder what kind of adventure she had concocted, leaving him to sweat it out in front of the crowd.

His cock stirred.

Jacaerys muttered a quiet curse, his posture twisting and turning uncomfortably in an attempt to fix himself as his mother’s words droned on. Lucerys, catching sight of his brother’s situation, had to stifle a laugh behind his hand while he innocently moved one of their youngest siblings to the front of the family to cover the heir’s decency. Yet, it continued on, with well-wishers and bootlickers taking turns to congratulate him and blessing him on his coming marriage. While Baela did not seem to mind the attention, he felt like the earth had opened up to swallow him whole. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, his face burning with embarrassment.

As the crowd finally bgan to disperse, he made a hasty exit with a mumbled farewell before he stumbled down the stairs with a stiff posture, each step feeling like a thousand stones had been poured into his boots. The dark hallway enveloped him, but the cold wind of night did little against the fire underneath his skin. His mind raced, everything he ever knew and wanted taking over his thoughts. Was she waiting for him in his chambers, hiding from the multitude of people? He needed clarity.

But he could not deny that raw, primal urge that coursed through his veins. He wondered if what he felt was that ‘masculine power' that Daemon had once joked about with him; of course, at the time he did not understand, but now he knew. If she was offering herself, he would take her and give in to the sin that was his desire. He craved her, all of her and more. Her body was his forbidden treasure, and his lips his map. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming reality: no one in this world deserved her more than he did. She belonged to him, and no one else would ever fill the void she occupied in his heart.

The heavy doors to his chambers creaked open, almost a mocking sound as they parted in desperation, drawn back by anxious hands. The room was shrouded in darkness, except for the solitary candle that barely illuminated the space and the sheer curtains holding the full power of the light of night back. Yet, amidst the gloom, a sweet aroma danced through the air, transporting him to a memory of her. The scent of flowers clung to him, tenderly reminding him of the warmth of her skin.

His deep voice, heavy with longing, echoed through the room. “You left me.”

A gentle hum, a teasing sound, was her response. “I wanted you to think about me.”

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a provocation. “I think about you every waking moment,” he replied, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions.

In response, the curtains shifted, and the silvery light of the moon spilt into the room, its radiance highlighting her beauty like a work of art. The dress she had been wearing lay discarded, abandoned over a chair, and in its place, she wore a slip of silk with a green velvet ribbon that tied at the front of her body, a gift, just like the dagger she had given him earlier in the day. She had planned this all along. His flower pushed herself off the bed, and her hips swayed with a sensual grace as if calling him to come closer. He felt his throat close, almost losing his breathing, his hands instinctively reaching out to claim her as soon as she was within reach. His fingers settled on the soft fabric of her waist, feeling the gentle curve of her body beneath.

Her hands came to claim space over his chest, her delicate fingers tracing gentle shapes in an attempt to calm the turmoil inside of him, feeling the material of his clothing, feeling his form underneath. Her voice, so sweet and velvety, was full of adoration as she spoke to him. “You are so sweet, Jace, my gentle dragon.” Her praise fuelled his fire within, his love for her reaching the skies above him, a rival to Vermax and his wings.

Jacaerys's response was low and husky, his words barely above a whisper as he was on the edge of falling apart under her touch. “And you are my everblooming flower.” The longing had become unbearable, and he slowly leaned in, his lips yearning to bridge the gap between them. The kiss was deep, passionate, and all-consuming, a fusion of their bodies and souls. Heads turned, lips met and moved, and sounds of passion echoed around them and throughout the empty chamber. 

Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in as if trying to merge their very essence to become one being, inseparable and indivisible, never to be parted. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them lost in their beautiful desire. He could feel himself hardening in his breeches even more, growing more uncomfortable by the mere second as he was taken over by his needs. She could feel him, that strange pressure against her front as she was weakened as well, her mind lost in a haze and anticipation. 

Almost violently, like the tearing of tender skin, the lovers ripped themselves apart from their suffocating kiss as they ran out of air, their chests rising and falling in ragged unison as they battled to refill their lungs. The prince's lips then grazed the gentle curve of her neck, planting tender, deliberate kisses on the sensitive skin, prompting a soft hum of satisfaction from her, ”Will you accept my gift, my love?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the heavy silence, the ringing in his ears.

Jace's entire being seemed to seize, his lips still lingering on the delicate curve of her neck, as he wrestled to process her question. She was willing to surrender herself to him, completely, and brave the repercussions of an unmarried night together. Could he accept such a sacrifice? Was he monstrous enough to put her in such a precarious position? His thoughts swirled in turmoil, a part of him screaming that it was morally wrong, while another part yearned to devour her whole.

"I could not do that to you, my flower," he breathed out, brokenness hidden in the crook of her neck and his words laced with a mix of longing, "think of your husband—“

But her interruption was swift and sharp, like she had anticipated his thoughts. "He does not mind," she said, her voice low and resolute. "We reached an agreement.” The prince's eyes widened in stunned surprise as he pulled himself back, his gaze locked on hers. 

"What do you mean?" he demanded to know, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and a strange fear. Could he trust her future husband’s words? What if he were to turn on his agreement, accuse her of betrayal, and strip her of her honour?

Her eyes sparkled like emeralds under the silvery light, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. "He knows what this means for us," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, "that it is goodbye.” She shook her head, her hair bouncing around her cherubic features as she looked into his eyes, hopeful.

Goodbye.

It was goodbye.

In no time, they will belong to other people.

The next time they meet, they will not be lovers; they will be forced to be strangers. 

She knew him too well and knew that his struggle with morality was the only thing that was holding him back from surrendering to his desires. She wanted him to understand that she wanted this, wanted him, regardless of the consequences. So, in a last attempt to let him understand, she reached for the delicate ribbon that was holding her slip together to tug on it and allow the material to shift ever so slightly, revealing just a small hint of her bare skin hiding underneath. As the gown slid open, it seemed that the sound of her rapid heartbeat was the only sound that filled the silence, a reminder that the outcome of this moment was far from certain. He could very well reject her final approach, and she would have to understand. 

The velvet parted like curtains as the breeze made the fabric sway gently over her body, leaving almost nothing to the imagination as his eyes were drawn to the womanly shape of her body. His gaze turned into the very mirror of a predator, like that dangerous glint in Vermax’s eyes as he watched his prey. He was drawn to the alluring curve of her breasts, the soft shape of her hips, and down to the forbidden fruit between her tightly clenched thighs, suddenly too aware of his sight over her. At that moment, like a rope snapping, his restraint evaporated, and a primal hunger consumed him. The cold night air seemed to fuel his desire, igniting a fire within him that burnt away any remaining inhibitions.

His hands took hold of her waist, right where they belonged, dragging her in as he claimed her lips once again, sending goosebumps all over her skin. The pressure of his mouth coaxed hers open, and his tongue delved in to find the warmth within. As they kissed, his hand began to roam freely over, pushing the now bothersome velvet aside as he traced her curves, lost in the silkiness of her skin. Her body responded to his touch, her back arching as she suddenly found it difficult to keep her balance, her nails digging into him. The intensity of his kiss was almost overwhelming, leaving her breathless and her senses reeling.

His feet carried them with clumsy steps, legs entwined with each other as they found their way backwards to where she had been waiting for him. The bed, perfectly arranged with soft sheets and plump pillows, was awfully inviting as it seemed to wait for the lovers to surrender to its comfort. She yielded to his guidance, her trust in him allowing them to tumble backwards until the back of her legs found the edge of the bed and she sank down onto the mattress. She settled against one of the many pillows, her shift giving up its attempt to cover her and being discarded aside as she reclined onto the pillows, hair cascading around her like a halo, an otherworldly beauty in the darkness. 

Jacaerys felt like he was going to suffocate under the uncomfortable weight of his attire; too many layers threatened to choke the life out of him, so yet again, his inexperienced fingers began to unbutton his clothes, desperate to feel her skin against his and elevate their intimacy. His eyes had darkened to a deep, burning intensity as he looked at her, his lust barely contained behind his restraint. Finally, the last layer had been shed, and he stood before her, bare in body and soul. 

With a delicate tug of her hand, she helped him closer to rise on the bed and come to her. He climbed in beside her, together like two pieces of a puzzle, meant to find each other. He hovered over her, his hand on each side of her head as he looked down at her with a love so strong, so deep, and so clear that it made her heart ache with its intensity. He knew that this night would be their only shared secret, one last night before they parted ways forever. She could feel her heart breaking, so she pulled him down to her to take his lips in a kiss that liberated her, pouring all that she felt into the embrace before she could break down in front of him. The young prince's response was immediate, their lips moving in perfect sync as they surrendered to the longing they had repressed.

As he slowly pressed his weight over her, he finally indulged in the desperate wish he had harboured for so long. It was as if he was about to detonate, about to disappear into their passion, never to resurface again. His hands worshipped every inch of her skin, tracing the curves of her hips, the gentle slope of her waist, the softness of her chest, and the slender column of her neck, as his desire reached a fever pitch. His hand, a gentle touch, descended into the valley between her breasts and lingered on the soft expanse of her stomach, igniting a fire within her. Lost in the intensity of the kiss, his palm rested on the mound between her legs, the tips of his fingers teasing the delicate curls. A soft, angelic gasp escaped her lips, “Jace..."

The girl parted her legs in an unspoken invitation, her desire taking over her and clouding her mind. He was a gentleman; he loved her, and he would honour her desire. Every shiver, every arch of her back, every sigh that came through her lips just pushed him to explore further. His fingers slipped between her folds, through the unfamiliar warmth of her arousal. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he felt her for the first time, finding her soaked in a testament of her need for him. Her feelings for him, her desires, her very essence, were laid bare before him.

When her restlessness grew as he touched her, she rolled her hips, a silent plea for more.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice a low purr against her lips. "Beautiful."

His fingers found peace in a slow dance over her bundle of nerves, testing her limits, finding her pleasure to push her to the brink of ecstasy, to give her what she deserved. She mewled, hips undulating with his touch as his fingers became soaked in her. He followed the rhythm of her body, strokes going harder and faster until she began to drown in a whirlwind of sensation. But his hunger was insatiable. He yearned to give her as much pleasure as she had given him. Pulling away from her lips felt like a betrayal, but he had a different plan in mind. He traced a path of kisses down her neck, across her collarbones, and over the peaks of her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples. With each kiss, he counted, an act of devotion.

Eight… twelve… sixteen…

He would remember this moment for the rest of his life, he decided, as he committed to memory every inch of her body, her map of treasure that led to her gold. He left traces of his lips as he went, small but distinct spots of reddening flesh as he took her skin into his mouth, made it his home as he kissed down her body. He lowered himself on the bed to comfortably lay between her legs, on his stomach, his face coming to the very centre of her being, his warm breath mingling with the chill of her skin as he delved into the intimate valley between her legs. The heat radiating from her core enveloped his face as his tongue dared to taste the nectar of her womanhood, tracing a path from base to peak.

Jacaerys Velaryon, accustomed to the finest delicacies, had never tasted anything as intoxicating as his beloved girl. He grew on the sweetest of desserts, the juiciest meats, and the finest wines, but nothing compared to her addictive flavour. He devoured her, his mouth unstoppable as he drank her in. The room was filled with the symphony of her moans and the wet, rhythmic sounds of his tongue against her, lapping at the juices that pooled from her most sensitive place. His hands, strong and possessive, held her hips steady as she bucked and writhed beneath him.

His cock, hard and needy, throbbed against the sheets under his body, dampening them with his pre-cum, the sensitive head rubbing against the rough fabric when he ground his hips against the cushion in desperation while his mouth savoured the sweet fruit of her pleasure. He would never get enough of her, he knew, as he took his time with long yet hungry laps at her apex, swearing to never forget the taste of her on his tongue.

Then, she broke, her cries a siren song that drove him wild. Her body arched, her thighs closing around his head as she reached for the heavens. Her first climax washed over her, a wave of pleasure that left her breathless. She spilt into his mouth, and he took her in willingly as he used his tongue to clean her up completely before he pulled back with a satisfied smirk on his glistening lips, coated in her.

He trailed kisses along the delicate skin of her inner thighs, a shiver rippling through her as she climaxed. His lips lingered, savouring the taste of her, the feel of her skin. He knew that marking more of her skin was dangerous, but he could not help himself from sucking in and biting the plumpness of her thighs as he had done all over her stomach and chest, forming a constellation of love bites as he moved. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his as his possessiveness took over, as wrong as he knew it was. Her eyes, half-lidded with remaining pleasure, met his, a silent plea for more. She yearned for him, for the fullness he promised.

Jace, his desire burning, pushed himself up on his arms to crawl over her body. His hips pressed against hers, the hard length of him aching against her soft belly. His own juices seeped from him, a tantalising promise of the pleasure to come. He could feel her anticipation, the way her body tensed and relaxed and shifted, the way her breath quickened. He wanted to lose himself in her, to feel her around him, to bury himself in her warmth.

“If you want me to stop,” He whispered, his voice rough and his throat rather dry, “I will.”

But she reached for his face, her lips curving into a smile that held the promise of endless pleasure. He felt a surge of desire as she parted her legs, inviting him into her embrace. With trembling hands, he guided himself towards her, his aching member finding its way to her entrance. A moment of anticipation passed as he positioned himself, and then, with a gentle push, he entered her, embraced by the foreign feel of her cunt. She tensed, her features twisting as the strange burning of his member settled itself deep within her, breaching her and taking that said innocence of hers.

Jace was engulfed by her warmth, a low groan escaping his lips as he thrust deeper. The friction, the sensation of her tight grip around him, drove him wild and ate at him, begging him to move. He could feel her initial resistance, her eyes fluttering closed as she endured the initial discomfort, and he ached for her. But as her body began to yield to him, her grip loosened, and her eyes, filled with a mix of desire and surrender, met his. He knew then that she was his, body and soul, and he would be deserving of her. Always.

His hips moved with a tentative rhythm, his eyes locked on hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret. Her breath quickened, soft whimpers escaping her lips as pleasure began to blossom within her when the initial pain had died out. He claimed her lips once more, their kiss deepening as their bodies moved in a primal dance, moving in a way that seemed natural for them. The initial awkwardness soon gave way to a more confident rhythm, their movements becoming more fluid and passionate.

The room filled with the music of their passion—the soft sighs, the guttural moans, the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin as they found a pace for both of them. The wet, sucking sound of their bodies melding together was a rhythm, driving them to the brink of ecstasy. Jace felt a growing intensity, a hot, pulsating knot forming low in his belly. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to prolong the pleasure, to give her everything he had. This was the first and last night they would spend together; then he would fuck her until the sun found its way back to the skies. Her legs, strong and eager, wrapped around his hips, urging him on. Her heels dug into his back, a silent plea for more, faster, harder. She was edging closer to the precipice, her body trembling with anticipation.

“Jace…” She moaned his name, such a delicious sound that made him feel delirious.

He clung to her, his body surrendering against her, his arms around her and pulling her closer. His hips pounded against hers, relentless as he drove them both to the very end. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, soft and warm, bouncing with each move of his body. As they reached their peak, they soared together to the heavens amongst the stars and the planets, lost in a concert of moans and gasps, the music of lovers. He gave himself completely, shooting hot ropes of seed deep into her womb, forgetting themselves in the danger of taking root within her, but still, she kept her hold on him, legs clasped down around him. In that moment, they were one, lost in the euphoria of their shared climax.

The aftermath of their passion left them breathless, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding. He collapsed onto her, a heavy weight of love and longing. She clung to him, her face hidden in his shoulder to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. The realisation of their separation was a bitter taste to swallow, and it only made her heart ache after her pleasure had taken her. He was hers, and she was his, forever, yet fate had decreed otherwise.

She hummed a soft melody, a song they had created together as children to distract herself from the impending pain of their separation once she left his chambers. It was a simple tune, a secret language between them, something safe from the world, something only they had. Jace, ever knowing of her emotions, understood the unspoken message in her song, the reason why she had now decided to sing to him. He knew the depth of their love, the intensity of their connection. They were two souls intertwined, bound by a love that would burn for eternity, the dragon and the flower. He had a duty as the heir of the kingdom, and she to the future of her house and family. They met when they already belonged to others, and for that, he would never forgive the gods. They gave, and they took.

And for a long moment, they remained together, hearts beating in unison as they flew back from the very heavens above. The silence, however, was comforting, a warm veil over their tired bodies, a shared understanding of their feelings. It was pure intimacy, trust, and love that kept them safe from the harsh realities of their world. He needed her to know that their love would endure; no matter what, she would always be in his heart. "I love you," he declared, his voice a gentle whisper, overwhelmed by emotions. As she wept, he gently wiped away her tears, his touch a source of comfort that tore at their heartstrings. "I will always love you," he vowed, his gaze unwavering, "and only you.”

“Thank you.” She choked out, “For loving me, though I do not deserve it.” 

Jace shook his head, his dark curls matted with sweat. His eyes, filled with a mixture of love and despair, met hers. He pressed his forehead against hers, his lips quivering as they threatened to part in a sob that bubbled in his throat. He yearned to give her the world and for a moment wished he was nothing but a simple man deserving of her. “I love you, with my heart and soul, now and forever.”

She, too, was consumed by their love, “Now,” she whispered, her voice trembling, "and forever.”

They spent the night together, finding their pleasure over and over in each other's arms with words of passion and declarations of love, a shared light in the darkness. As dawn approached, casting a soft glow over the room, they lay together with bruised lips, exhausted but content, heartbroken but fulfilled, together. Their secret was known only to a select few; their absence was explained away with elaborate excuses. Her sisters claimed she had spent the night with them, chatting away mindlessly under the light of candles, while his brothers and reluctant cousins feigned ignorance of his whereabouts, pretending that they saw him headed to the dragonpit in the dark of night.

Rhaenyra, however, knew the truth all along yet remained quiet. She had been the witness of the purity of young love from the very moment the two had first met. The queen had tried her hardest to prevent them from committing the same mistakes, yet her efforts were not enough. Her heart ached for her firstborn, who, like her at his age, was bound by duty and forced to sacrifice his happiness. As she gazed upon the sleeping form of her second husband, Daemon, she could not help but wonder if the two of them would ever meet again and eventually be together.

Their weddings took place at the same time, in different places, almost poetic. Jacaerys’ wedding was a lavish celebration witnessed by as many people as they could, with guests from all over Westeros and beyond. Poets and musicians were moved by his sorrow during the festivities, his longing for a love that could not be so evident as he held his bride for their first dance that it would inspire many tales across the realm for centuries to come. Her wedding, though modest, was no less significant. As she was presented to her husband, her heart heavy with sorrow, she forced herself to fulfil her duty. Yet, her tears spoke volumes, revealing the depth of her pain. Despite the circumstances, she endured, as a promise made in a night of heartbreak. 

Their paths remained separate, their destinies sealed in the stars. The lovers would never meet again, at least not in this life.

It cannot be denied that, over time, a close bond would blossom between Jacaerys and his cousin-wife, a genuine connection and source of comfort. Together, they welcomed four children into the world: three sons and a daughter, whose name seemed to befit that of a lady of House Tyrell instead of the Valyrian houses. As the years passed, driven by a desire to spare his children from arranged marriages, Jacaerys attempted to reform the traditional customs so his children would be free to choose their own partners, guided by love rather than political advantages. 

She brought forth two beautiful twin girls, the mirror images of their mother, and would, unfortunately, pass from an untreatable sickness as her second pregnancy debilitated her young body. The loss of the young Lady of Flowers was a devastating blow to all who knew her, close and far. When the news of her passing reached King’s Landing, Queen Rhaenyra ordered her portrait to be displayed in the Red Keep, under the excuse of her love for a child she had seen grow in front of her eyes. However, those close to Prince Jacaerys knew the true significance of this gesture: it was a silent acknowledgement of the profound love and loss he endured.

As if coming alive from the song of a bard, one of his sons would meet one of her daughters and, with a sweet symphony, would find true love in each other’s arms, just as their parents once did. Yet, this time, their love would be allowed to blossom in the most beautiful union, with the heavens above coming together to bless them. Their love would remain everblooming, a seed planted to grow for many generations to come, a tree of life that would never be cut. 

ᡣ𐭩 ─ author's note ;

two months of writing and editing and screaming for THIS?! wack. anyways, happy debut into fluff-smut to me! this oneshot has been through a lot, poor little document. i cannot keep doing this to myself. it's been a long time since i last used the word COCK and it's horrifying lmfao. i need to work on dialogue, i feel like i was limited on that here.

few curious facts about everbloom's world: instead of a reader insert, i had originally created an original female character by the name of alerie tyrell, and the name of jace and baela's daughter was alerya in her honor. the deal she had made with her husband-to-be was that she would never see him again, or mention him in any way. in the first draft, she had a girl that looked just like jace, but the time of their last night and the beginning of her pregnancy was not close at all, so she thought it was a sad gift from the gods. in another draft, she attended jace's crowning ceremony and watched from afar with her children. some of the original ending ideas included a version of hanahaki disease for jace after she passed in childbirth, but i said enough suffering.

i hope it's decent! forgive any grammar mistakes, weird pacing or awkward romance. we can only get better from this!

╰⪼ thank you for reading!

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | v. {END}

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: DUB-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A deep breath flows from your lungs as you examine your reflection in the cracked, stained mirror. It’s been in your family for years and you never had the heart to rid yourself of it, despite the object’s sorry state. Like everything in the small house, it harbors a plethora of fond memories.

You arrange a few unruly strands of your hair. Though you immediately feel silly for doing so.

It’s not like he cares what you look like. It never bothered him before. He always seeks you out, even when you are worn and sweaty after working a long day at the factory.

As you tiptoe across the room, your gaze settles on Tilly’s tiny form. Soft breaths lift her chest up and down. She is fast asleep, thankfully. Words are amiss to explain where you’re sneaking off to tonight, who you’re planning on meeting up with…or perhaps there are words for that, some you are too terrified to even fathom. Two young people secretly wandering the streets of District 8 at night to find each other and…

Your cheeks flare with warmth.

This isn’t what Coriolanus is to you. He is your tormentor. That is all. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be shaking like a leaf in the dark, your stomach threatening to drop to your feet.

One of the moth-eaten, dusty floorboards squeaks below your feet as you reach the exit door and nudge it open.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Startled by your cousin’s drowsy voice, you turn around so fast that your head spins. She blinks at you curiously as she sits up in her bed. A heavy sigh peals from your lips. Smiling from ear to ear, you approach her.

You hunker down in front of her.

“I am. You’re not, sweetie.”

“Where?”

Your stomach coils. Still, your smile remains intact.

“Just gotta run an errand quickly,” you lie while cupping her cheek. “We’re running out of your medicine. We have to make sure you stay healthy past the winter.”

She yawns and glances at the twinkling stars through the window.

“But it’s so late.”

Excuses dwindle in your head. You retreat to the authoritative older sibling tone you sometimes use to get your cousin to do her chores.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Just go back to sleep, okay?”

You tuck Tilly back into bed. Arranging the blanket over her gingerly, you drop a soft kiss on her forehead.

Your cousin nods and curls herself beneath her blanket. Relief swells within you. She is too little to hear about the purpose of your nightly trip. In fact, you plan on her never knowing a thing about it. With luck, all of it will end tonight. You’ll bow to the peacekeeper’s demands. One last time. Then you’ll bury the awful memory in the furthest, deepest recesses of your mind and never look back.

It’s what you hope will happen.

Cool winds skate across your skin when you step outside. The moon trails your quiet, anxious trek through the alleys of District 8, its silver beams lighting the cobblestoned path. Every time your feet hit the ground, the nervousness in the pit of your stomach grows. Perhaps you should have stayed home, risked his wrath. You are so painfully unready for whatever the peacekeeper has in store for you. Your wild, palpitating heart seems as if it’ll burst out of your chest any second now.

Suddenly, your tremulous walk is halted.

Familiar fingers snake around your wrist. You’re pulled into a dark corner and shoved against a wall. A stunned gasp hops from your throat. 

Coriolanus smirks at your reaction.

“No need to be scared, birdie. It’s just me,” he whispers, balancing his arm above your head in a way that makes you feel caged.

“Coriolanus.”

He seizes your chin, cobalt eyes drinking you in. His voice is almost soft.

“You really thought I’d let you walk on your own at night? It’s not safe.”

He parts from the wall. His hand wraps around yours. He tugs you along and you have no choice but to follow.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll recognize it.”

Indeed, you do. To your utter despair. After strolling through a vertiginous amount of dank alleyways and narrow stairs, you and the peacekeeper end up in front of a place that bears a daunting familiarity.

As the neon lights of the brothel fill your sight, your apprehension skyrockets.

Snippets of memories of what occurred the last time you were here lurk inside your mind. Your insides clutch.

Coriolanus sighs. His thumb sweeps across your palm, almost tenderly.

“It won’t be like last time. I promise. You can trust me.”

The same beautiful woman welcomes the two of you. Once again, there’s a flirting lilt to her tone, one the peacekeeper ignores. Coriolanus asks about a room. His questions about it fade amidst the uproarious drumming of your heart inside your ears. You’re a jittery wreck behind him, your gaze bouncing from wall to wall.

His deep voice yanks your attention back to him.

“Birdie?”

“Y-Yes?”

The corner of his lips quirks upward.

“Come with me.”

You nod. Is it too late to make a run for it? Though you’d rather not find out how much worse this could get, how mean Coriolanus could turn. He didn’t even hesitate to have you on your knees before, simply to make a point. He’s in good spirits now, nicer than he’s ever been to you, even humming a light tune to himself. Maybe you should aim to keep it that way. Tread the path of least resistance, as much as you loathe yourself for surrendering to him so easily.

You enter the room. Your heart leaps when you hear him lock the door behind you. The inside is nicely decorated. Candles around the canopy bed at the center of the room provide a soft, intimate light. 

Red and white rose petals are scattered over the silk sheets.

Your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts over your neck.

“It’s pretty, right?” His hands settle over your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I had it decorated specially for us.”

He shifts you so you’re facing him. Fingers sneak below your chin, tilting it upward. Your stomach flutters as you get lost in his blue eyes. They burn into you like coals in the swaying candlelight.

“Has anyone ever done something this nice for you?”

You remain silent for a while, fiddling with the scarf around your neck, the one he gave you.

“N-No,” you eke out after an eternity.

He starts pulling on your scarf. When it hits the floor, exposing your neck to his gaze, you already feel incredibly vulnerable. You tremble as Coriolanus begins to circle around you. As he does that, more articles of clothing join your scarf on the floor, turning into a growing heap at your feet.

First he unbuttons your shirt. When it’s loose on your frame, he pulls on it lightly until it slides off you. Next he unlaces your skirt. Coriolanus is slow, digits dragging over your quivering flesh as he peels every layer of fabric off you. Eventually, you are bare before him. Goosebumps peek under your skin as he spends a torturous minute simply appraising you. Lust swells his pupils, nearly drowning the blue in his eyes.

“Have you ever done this before?”

You shake your head. He seizes your jaw, angling your face upward.

“No miners? No factory worker? No one before me?”

Heat rushes to your face. Still, you shake your head again, faintly wishing you could sink inside the earth and disappear.

Satisfaction illuminates his features.

“So I’m your first.” He caresses your arm. You will yourself still, despite the itch to run away searing through you like a hot knife. His voice lowers to a husky whisper. “I wish you’d see I’m not your enemy, birdie.”

He then shocks you. Layer by layer, Coriolanus starts to shed every part of his peacekeeper uniform. Every piece of clothing falls into a heap on the floor that melds with yours.

When he peels off his boxers, your throat dries. He’s thick and long, just as you remember. Apprehension settles within you. His eyes lock with yours. “Do I look like your enemy right now?” he mumbles. Your pulse picks up as he approaches you. Your gaze drifts everywhere and nowhere, your breath caged in your lungs.

“I don’t know.”

“Do I scare you?”

“Yes.”

His mouth slants crookedly.

“But not in the way you wished, right?”

You gawk at him, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed.

The courage to answer never finds its way into your heart. Coriolanus’ lips however find their way onto yours. At first, the kiss is soft and firm. Cradling your face, he sweeps his mouth over yours without haste. Meticulously slow. As if he wishes to commit your taste to memory.

He nudges you backwards onto the bed. When your back collides with the mattress, his mouth turns more ravenous. His tongue explores the roof of your mouth while his hands wander lower, kneading at your curves. Your head spins. You keen against his tongue as a sick twinge of something you won’t name flickers in your core.

When his mouth parts from yours, you’re both equally breathless, his warm breath mingling with yours. You find yourself almost longing for the heady feeling. Almost. The blond smiles down at your dazed expression.

He traces your jaw with his thumb.

“You can scream as much as you like, you know? No one will come to your rescue.”

“I won’t scream,” you say, defiance igniting your gaze.

“Oh but you will,” he replies with confidence. His mouth ghosts over your earshell. “You’re all mine tonight, pretty bird.” His mouth tugs upwards. “And I plan on making you beg for it before the morning comes.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slithers down your body. The entire time, he corrals your gaze, his blue eyes shimmering in the darkness. He wedges himself between your thighs, meeting only meek resistance as he pushes them apart. 

Coriolanus appraises your slick folds. He drags a finger alongside your slit, mirth lighting up his face. 

“Already so wet for me, birdie,” he says.

Your face heats. You could try to contradict him but the evidence is right there between your legs. Impossible to escape or deny. You are sinfully, embarrassingly wet in front of the peacekeeper.

“I-”

Brazenness melts off your tongue when he presses his lips to your core. He feasts on your weeping folds, his unyielding fingers keeping you placid and open. His tongue teases your tender nub, drawing torturous patterns. Your muscles tighten. The air in your lungs rushes in and out faster as Coriolanus’ tragically skilled tongue sends zings of shameful pleasure through your spine. 

Meticulous and slow, he takes his time to taste you. Every second he spends unraveling you is the most sensual torture.

Your trembling fingers claw at the sheets, your eyes rolling back. You glance down. A peculiar tingle dances through your belly when you catch sight of the blond’s head bobbing between your thighs. Despite your center aching for release, you fight the urge to buck your hips into his mouth and seek more of the delectable contact. He sucks your swollen clit between his lips, pushing his tongue between your folds. You gulp down a sharp scream. Waves of pleasures sweep through your frame. Your lids flutter as your stomach tightens. A painful tension settles in your limbs, heat gathering in your core.

For a long time, you try to stay quiet. You bite yourself hard enough to draw blood as you muffle every whimper and moan struggling to break past the confines of your lips. 

Coriolanus makes his way up your body, his index and middle finger replacing his tongue. Quick exhales burst from your chest as you peer at him through your hazy vision.

“I want to hear you, birdie,” he rasps, his fingers catching on your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. He sinks a finger inside you. Your chest lifts, brushing against his. When the digit hooks between your slick walls, grazing against your sensitive spot, you unleash a loud squeal.

The blond smiles.

“There. So much better.”

He sneaks another finger inside your core, stretching you even more. Unused to the feeling, you whine and grip a fistful of the sheets. He pumps inside you, finding a steady rhythm that has you twitching beneath him. The broken moans spilling from your tongue mingle with the wet sounds your cunt makes as he explores you with his fingers.

Embarrassment is slowly nudged aside by the storm of delectable sensations growing inside you.

The heel of his hand keeps grazing against your swollen button, eliciting spikes of pleasure through your flesh.

His forehead rests against yours, his feathery lashes falling to half-mast as he whispers,

“Come for me, birdie.”

Your breathing accelerates, his words propelling you closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers. Your legs tense. Warm tingles swirl across your flesh as your back arches. 

A lightning bolt of pleasure passes through you, quick and intense. For a few seconds, not a thought occupies your mind. You are nothing but a million nerve endings on fire.

Your boneless frame crashes over the sheets.

“Good girl,” he praises, his smile expanding. His fingers pull out of you and he brings them to his lips. You watch, sickly fascinated as he dips them into his mouth, reveling in your taste. He hums in appreciation. Your face warms. He then places those same digits over your own lips, forcing you to taste yourself. He bends over you, peppering sluggish kisses in the crook of your neck. His hand splays over your heaving chest, his thumb rubbing your nipples until they pebble under his touch. His lips trail lower on your body. 

He pauses, looming over you. Hands on each side of you, Coriolanus lines his tip with your entrance. Your eyes widen in surprise. You squirm and try to scoot away, panic rushing through you. 

He yanks you back on the bed with ease, his body pinning yours onto the mattress. When you reach for his face, hoping to land a blow, he snatches your wrists and slams them above your head.

He scoffs, “So feisty, even to the bitter end.”

Your breath falters when his thick tip stretches you open. Even that single inch of him feels like too much. Rapid breaths burst from your fluttering chest.

Tears quiver beneath your lashes.

“It hurts…”

He pushes until he’s halfway inside you. Pain shoots through you as you sob.

The tears spill. He releases one of your wrists to fondle your cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay, pretty bird. I’ve got you.” 

He shoves inside you until he grazes your hilt. Your lips part in a quiet scream, your vision flickering. For a while, Coriolanus remains still, giving you time to accommodate his thick girth. He starts moving, his thrusts slow and deep. The longer he fucks you, the more the pain morphs into something else. Something not entirely unpleasant, albeit a little terrifying. The aching stretch becomes tantalizing, your wet walls clinging to his length every time it drags against your soft spots. Little whimpers leave your throat as you cling to his bicep.

Coriolanus’ hand wraps around your jaw.

“Focus on me and only me,” he instructs.

Your eyes dive into his. Flames dance in his cobalt orbs. He smiles, his thumb sweeping  over your bottom lip.

“Such an obedient girl.”

“How does it feel now?” he grunts. You note the sweat glistening over his bare muscles, dotting at his brow. His exhales are more strained now, matching yours. 

You keen at a sharp snap of his pelvis into yours. He picks up the pace, bending one of your thighs against your chest to thrust as far as his cock will go. Your toes curl, blissful shivers creeping their way up your spine. 

“Awful,” you wheeze out. 

He snickers. “You’re a horrible liar, birdie.”

You sense him nearing the cusp of his pleasure. His cock twitches between your walls and you plead, panicked, “Corio…Coriolanus…not inside, please.”

A crooked grin spreads on his lips. 

“But wouldn’t it be wonderful, if I left you something to remember me by.”

You shudder, shaking your head. “No…”

He slips his fingers between your joined bodies, drawing a long moan from you when he starts rubbing your pulsing clit. He plays with your tender bud until you cry out. You come apart around him, slick walls hugging him snugly as he shoots his thick seed inside you. 

Dread settles in your bones, piercing through the haze of delight. You tremble as the stickiness trickles alongside your walls.

He lets out a throaty sigh, trapping you underneath him so you can’t move. 

“Yes,” he breathes out, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your mouth opens in shock as another tear traces a blazing path down your cheek. He scatters bruising kisses along the column of your neck. His cruel words sear into your flesh. “That way you can never forget you were mine before anyone else, birdie.”

You awake with a start, bruised and sore, in the massive bed. Your glance darts around, confusing filling you as you tuck the blanket against your frame. Your shoulders sag. You note faint sunlight pouring through the crimson curtains. All the candles from last night have been blown out. 

It’s the next day. You are alone. You shiver at the sight of the rumpled sheets, glimpses from the night before seeping through your mind. Coriolanus kept true to his word and made you sing for him the entire night. He was relentless and didn’t stop until you passed out from pleasure. In fact, you were so exhausted, you can’t pinpoint the moment he left. You simply recall him cooing soft praises in your ear as he had his way with you for the last time. 

For a moment, you held some fear that he would never leave, since he was so hellbent on making you come around him as many times in a row as he could.

What terrifies you most however, is that last night wasn’t terrible. Not entirely. Or not in the way you pictured at least. Heat creeps up in your cheeks at the thought. 

You clamber off the bed, wincing at the aching stiffness of your limbs. You collect your clothes and begin to dress. You’re eager to leave the room. It stinks of sex and shameful mistakes. 

As you climb down the stairs, the madam greets you with a wiggle of her fingers. You bristle, shame glowing inside your chest. 

She bends over the wooden handrail, her cleavage threatening to spill out of her dress.

“He said you were free to stay in the room to rest for the entire day if you wished. Paid in full before he left.”

“I don’t want to stay.” 

You hasten your pace to reach the exit faster.

She stops you in your tracks, a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.

“So the pretty boy didn’t tire you out then?” She tilts her head and pouts. “Pity. I imagined him to be a more…zealous lover.”

Your cheeks flame as you rush out of the brothel. You can’t get back home fast enough. 

You need a shower expeditiously. Never before have you longed for the freezing cold spray to hit your skin so badly.

You return home to at least a month’s worth of supplies and medicine in several bags. 

There’s even candy for your cousin, the same he brought her last time. Your cousin’s overjoyed, of course, but you remind her not to overindulge. 

Nothing else accompanies them. No letter. No card. You should feel happy at that, you surmise. Finally, you are free to live life on your own terms, return to your routine. 

Part of you is a little stunned by it however, and perhaps expect the peacekeeper to not be truly gone. For days, you keep wondering if he’ll materialize from a dark corner or surprise you as you stroll down a dank alleyway. 

None of that occurs. Still, it takes weeks for your blood not to chill anymore at the sight of a peacekeeper. After a month of tranquil, humdrum days, you’re forced to admit it. Coriolanus has granted you the peace he promised.

Your chest is a little lighter as you head to the factory everyday. You even start smiling again, which Yara and Tilly keep teasing you about.

But you can’t help it. No more feeling scared or confused. No more eyes trailing your every move. You’re relieved, happy. Life in district 8 may sometimes be uncertain but, at least, you hold your destiny in your hands once more.

Blessed freedom. Finally.

So you let yourself relax. Over time, the terror gripping your gut melts away. The tightness in your chest eases. 

Your mind is so at ease that you don’t notice the shadow creeping behind you on your way out of the factory. It’s too late when you do. 

A black cloth is shoved over your head as you turn a street corner. You’re hauled off your feet and dragged into a dim alley. Your heart races, panic flooding you as you’re tossed into the back of a vehicle. 

The engine roars to life. Every question you ask is ignored, your kidnappers frustratingly silent. You wonder if you’ll die or be sold off to traffickers. You’ve heard of district girls disappearing sometimes, the kind no one will miss or ask too many questions about. 

They often end up in sordid places. You’ve heard the stories. Some could end up in the mines, in shady brothels or even wind up as an Avox maid with their tongues cut off. Chills swirl over your skin. 

Is it to be your fate? Being carted off to some hellish place and worked to death? 

The car stops. Your pulse soars. Quick breaths pour from your mouth as you’re roughly carried to some other place. You struggle, trying to kick your assailant. You land a blind strike and hear a curse. You make a run for it, your blood singing wildly. 

It’s pathetic the swiftness with which you’re caught, as if your attempt meant nothing. 

You’re shoved into a box. As the slamming of a hammer surrounds you, sealing your fate, you begin to sob. You used to think you were just born in the wrong place, unlucky, like so many others. Now you’re starting to believe you are cursed.

Shivers wrack your frame as the box is lifted. Your stomach lurches. The entire trip is a nightmare. Dread grips you tight as questions crowd your mind about who’s taking you and why. After a while, you realize you’re on a train. Your terror swells. 

You’re being moved out of District 8. You haven’t left your district since birth. For better or worse, this was your home.

After an awful, rambunctious journey, the box is finally opened. You hear grunting above you as the lid of the box is pried open. 

The bag over your head is removed and you take in a lungful of clean air. Strong arms hoist you out of the box. You clumsily stumble to your feet. 

You whirl. 

An audible breath skips off your tongue as you take in who stands before you. He looks so different. No more peacekeeper uniform. No more buzzcut.

“Coriolanus?” you gasp.

He smiles. “Hi, birdie.” A wave of snow engulfs your veins.

He sweeps a hand over his silver curls, sounding almost bashful.

“Do you like it? I’m trying to grow it out again.”

Ignoring him, you peer at your surroundings. The white room has a vaulted glass ceiling that allows sunlight in. The pearly marble tiles are pristine. Other than that, you only find one opening. A small door on the other side. You scuttle across the room to reach it. 

The door knob shakes but doesn’t give. Still, you insist, your desperation growing. Your heart sinks as you glance down at the tiny keyhole in the door. 

Coriolanus’ deep voice approaches from behind you. 

“This is a locked cell, pretty bird,” he explains. “And I’m the only one with the key. Dr. Gaul uses it for her more…feral experiments. But she’s granted me permission to use it for an experiment of my own.”

You whip around. “Dr. Gaul?” 

You feign interest, hoping to distract him, having noted the tiny golden key dangling from his neck. Coriolanus catches you looking at it and smirks. “My mentor. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you through everything. I’m sure you’ll fit right in over time.”

He inches closer and you stagger backwards. 

“W-Why am I here?”

Instead of being offended by your attempts to shy away from him, the blond seems mildly amused, studying you as he paces around the room.

“I couldn’t let my sweet bird wither away in a filthy district, of course. I belong in the Capitol, and you belong to me.”

You gape at him. While you knew him to be some entitled rich kid from the Capitol, you never imagined he’d take it this far. Steal you away like you’re some shiny object that struck his fancy at the marketplace. Not a person with a life and desires of their own.

“You’re insane,” you hiss.

His mouth twitches, marking the first hint of displeasure at your reaction.

“We’ll have to work on that coarse mouth of yours. It will not stand here.” His tone grows chillier. “Here in the Capitol, we have discipline, order.”

“Let me go,” you shout, lunging yourself at him. You attempt to tackle him and grab the key from his neck. Unleashing a sigh of annoyance, Coriolanus seizes your wrist and twists it with hardly any effort. The sickening sound of bones snapping lands in your ears. He throws you on the floor, kicking your side for good measure. You keel over the tiles, cradling your throbbing wrist against your chest.

Coriolanus shakes his head as he considers your curling frame on the floor.

“Look what you’re making me do, sweet bird. As I’ve said, your uncouth District wench ways will not stand here. You’re going to behave…” He hunkers down before whispering, “Unless you never want to see your cousin again.”

Your head snaps up, tears filling your eyes.

“She needs me. Coriolanus, please-”

“She will be cared for. There’s a very nice orphanage south of the Capitol, one for all the children who lost their homes in the war.” He beams at you. “She’s being transported there as we speak.”

“Oh my god…”

“You want to see her again? It’s all up to you, birdie.” A slow, wicked smirk blooms on his lips. “...Or perhaps she would fare well as the District 8 tribute for the 11th Hunger Games. She may be a little young…but at least she’d increase viewership.”

“You can’t do that,” you protest, your lip quaking as tears skip over your cheeks.

A dark chuckle leaves him.

“I can and I will. You see, birdie, the world isn’t fair.” He cocks his head. “No one cares about innocent children dying. Hell, I was kicked, beaten and starved so many times during the war, I lost count. No one cared.” His blue eyes turn icier as they meet yours. “The world…it’s an arena. You’re either a predator, or you’re prey.” He lifts his hand to cup your cheek. A gesture that’d be almost tender if the words spilling from his mouth weren’t so cruel. “It’s best to just embrace your role.”

He caresses your tear-stained cheek.

“So will you be my sweet, obedient girl?”

As you sink in his empty blue gaze, a sense of defeat cloaks your frame. You come to realize, you were never meant to come out unscathed from meeting Coriolanus Snow, never meant to win. The fire in his eyes is the kind that burns all standing in its path.

There is no getting away. If you survived him, you’d be lucky.

Your chin trembles as you reply meekly, “Y-Yes, Coriolanus.”

His lips brush over yours before he gets to his feet, satisfaction glowing on his handsome features.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, birdie.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Dec. 24, 2011

Your forgiveness is more than I ever could’ve asked for. I still don’t think I deserve it, but I will take what you have given me, ahki.

You writing back was unexpected, but I’m so glad you did! Though, I guess this isn’t very secure, huh. Oh, well! As long as nothing incriminating is written down, we should be fine.

How’s father? And your siblings? I understand there are three kids father’s adopted. Also, what about your extracurriculars? Anything exciting going on that you can tell me about? It’s boring, crime wise, where I’m at. No murder mysteries or sex scandals or huge break-ins. Not that I want any of those to happen, but it’d be really fun to get to follow a case that isn’t twelve years old or four states over.

How are you adjusting at all, actually? It was a big culture shock for me for a while, especially because no one here speaks Arabic. Can you believe that? Some of the others still think I made up an entire language just to mess with them! I haven’t been able to speak with someone in our mother tongue in a while, but I’ve been trying not to forget any of it! Even if there’s an accent coming through.

Tell me about your life. Not what the media says. I want to know the real you. Do you have friends? Any pets? What about hobbies? Do you still have that dagger I made you that one time?

Anyway, I gotta go now. I hope to hear from you soon!

I don’t know what holiday(s) father and your siblings celebrate, so I’ll wish you a happy all of them!

سأسامحك دائماً يا أخي لقد وُضعت في أسوأ الاحتمالات و��ذلت قصارى جهدك بما كان لديك من معرفة. كنت ستعرض نفسك للخطر فقط إذا عدت.

Danny Fenton

***

Danny had wasted no time in writing a response. Was he going to come off as eager? Probably, but he didn’t really care. His brother had responded to him! Granted, he thinks this is a trick, but there’s some part of Damian that believes Danny’s alive! He forgives him for not going home! It’s more than Danny could’ve ever allowed himself to hope for.

But, gods was he awkward! He hadn’t let Jazz read the letter at all. She didn’t know what he said the first time, she didn’t know what the response said, and she wasn’t ever going to read any of them if he had any say in the matter. Yes, they’re siblings and he loves her just as much as he loves Damian, but this was something she didn’t have any business poking her nose into. He liked to think that Damian would likewise keep this from his own siblings, though he’d totally understand if Dami shared purely because of the suspicious circumstances.

Anyway, Danny had read and re-read Damian’s letter for hours, trying to come up with the best response, only stopping when Jazz called him down for dinner. Sleep hadn’t come easily, either, because of the adrenaline from actually getting a response. He’d hoped he’d get one, but he was also sure that he wouldn’t get one.

But why did he have to be so awkward writing back? Damian’s his brother, not a total stranger! Damian probably wouldn’t care. Danny’s always been like that, awkward at all the wrong times. He’s just gotten used to not hiding it since he left, though it had taken a while.

He has to wonder, though, if Damian is with father, does this mean he’s left the Shadows? How had he done it? Obviously, he hadn’t faked his death. Father is a very public figure, so anything short of Damian leaving a massacre behind him as he left the Shadows would be unlikely. Unless he is still with the Shadows? In which case, Danny’s just doomed himself. Sure, the PO box was set up in the town over, and maybe he struck up a deal to have the letters sent from there to his house, but that wasn’t going to stop ninja assassins. Nothing short of death would stop ninja assassins!

No! Bad Danny! No use having second thoughts now; It’s too late. He just has to hope for the best. Gods, was he hoping, wishing on stars and everything! He wanted this to work out. He wanted to have a relationship with his older brother-

Damn, he’s still the younger sibling. He hadn’t thought much of it before, but both Jazz and Damian are older than him! If he counts father’s children, which he does only to prove his point this one time, then he’s the youngest of six kids! That’s not fair. Who decided that was a fair trade? Could be worse, he supposed. He could be stuck as a middle sibling. Shutter the thought.

“Danny?” Jazz opened the door with a knock, “You ready to send that letter?”

He groaned into his pillow. “I already did.”

“Really?” she wondered, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah,” he rolled over to face her, “Finished it this morning and shipped it off.”

Jazz hummed. “I still don’t get why you won’t let me read them. I could totally help you with spelling and stuff!”

Danny sat up and stared at her with a dead look. “Jazz, I was taught by people who were the best of the best in their fields. There isn’t a single thing you could do to help me write or read those letters.”

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t in English.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes you are! I saw the one you got! It was in English!” She paused. “Except for that last bit. That just looked like a bunch of squiggles.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “That wasn’t a bunch of squiggles, Jazz. It was Arabic, my mother tongue.”

“First,” she adjusted to sit criss-cross on the foot of his bed, “Never say ‘mother tongue’ again; it sounds weird. Second, the simple solution is to teach me Arabic.”

Danny had to pause for a second to let the words register in his head. “You-you want to learn Arabic?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I mean, it can’t be that hard, right?”

“Yes it can,” he sighed, “You’d have to learn a whole new alphabet of letters and sounds. It’s not a Latin based language like English or Spanish.”

“I can do it!”

“I don’t doubt that, but I think an easier language would be better.”

She huffed. “You just don’t wanna share.”

True, but, “I could teach you Romanian? It’s a Latin derived language, like English, so it’s got the same alphabet.”

“Fine,” she agreed after a moment, “Where do we start?”

“Kids!” their dad called from the kitchen, “We have something for you!”

Danny and Jazz shared a grimace. “Down stairs, apparently,” he said. Quickly, they left the room and made their way down the stairs and to the kitchen. Their parents probably didn’t have any actual gifts for them, so they weren’t going to get their hopes up.

They were right, of course. Jack and Maddie Fenton were creatures of habit and obsession; workaholics, in simpler terms.

The two kids joined their parents at the table. “Mom,” Jazz greeted, “Dad.”

“Jazzypants!” Jack smiled, his voice booming, “Dann-o!”

“What’s up?” Danny asked. He wanted to go back to his room and stew over what he’d just sent to his brother. Seriously? ‘I’ll wish you a happy all of them?’ That’s so stupid! Beyond stupid, actually! He wanted to curl up and die. Can people die of embarrassment?

Maddie smiled kindly at her children, somehow matching her husband’s energy but not his volume. “We had another breakthrough in our research.”

“Oh?” Danny had been intrigued by the [now] Drs. Fenton’s research. It was all theoretical, of course, but they claimed to have proof of base for their research. He’d never seen it before, and they’d never offered to show him or Jazz, but they mentioned it in all of their papers. He’d never deemed it worth anything, so it had been pushed behind relevant information like literally anything else.

He still didn’t know how they’d gotten those papers published. They were the laughing stocks of the scientific and occult communities! An accomplishment in and of itself, really.

“Yes,” his mother nodded, “But that’s not what we called you two down to discuss.”

“It’s not? Jazz tilted her head to the side.

“Nope!” Jack’s smile somehow got bigger. “We’ve decided that the both of you are old enough-”

“-and responsible enough.” Maddie added.

“-do go down and see the lab!”

Jazz and Danny had two very different reactions to this statement. Danny was a bit excited to get to see whatever held his parents’ attention at all hours of the day. Jazz, on the other hand, was furious.

“What!” she demanded.

Jack and Maddie didn’t seem to even register her anger. “You two have both proven yourselves responsible in your school and house work, so we figured it was time to let you two in on the family business.”

“But, I don’t want to do lab work!” Jazz objected, now standing with her hands on the table and her chair pushed back aggressively.

“Nonsense,” Maddie waved her off easily, “You’ll love it. Besides, you’ve always wanted to help us in the lab, ever since you were a child.”

Jazz just screamed in outrage. “I’ve never said that!”

She was ignored. “Of course, we’ll have to go over the proper safety measures so that neither of you gets hurt.” Jack stated.

Throwing her hands up, Jazz stormed away from the table and stomped up to her room, the door slamming behind her. Danny has no doubts that she’s locked herself in.

“She must be tired,” Jack smiled fondly, “We’ve got some work to finish up down stairs, Dann-o, but we’ll be back up for dinner, alright?”

Danny nodded and the two left. Quietly, he whispered, “Liar.” to the empty main floor.

***

Danyal Fenton Dec. 27, 2011

Your definition of ‘incriminating’ must be wrong. You reaching out in the first place would’ve put us both in danger had your letter been intercepted. The same remains true for every letter we exchange, though I will not be the one to put a stop to the communication. It is nice to have physical evidence of your conversations, no matter how much time passes between each response.

I am still skeptical that you are my brother, but, as I said in my last letter, I will continue on with a shade pulled over my eyes, ahki.

I have done some research while living with father. My own experiences prove at least some of what they say is true. I never truly believed you had died. I always had a feeling that you were alive somewhere, safe, out of reach of Grandfather and Mother.

Father is well. In public, he is outgoing, drunk, clumsy, able to start a conversation from nothing and let it trail off into a slightly more useful nothing. In truth, he is standoffish, strong, able to talk circles around anyone. He is always ready for a fight and always prepared for the worst. He does not like surprises.

We have four siblings, and one honorary sibling. Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, and Stephanie Brown. Grayson is more outgoing than the others, though he has been with Father the longest, so he is just as skilled as him. Todd was dead and refuses to communicate with Father. Drake is smart, but that is all he has going for him. Cain was raised in the League like us, though not at any of the bases we ever visited. Brown was dating Drake, but has since become more of a sister to the Manor.

Alfred Pennyworth is the family butler. He raised Father and continues to stand by his side. He is a formidable foe, though I have yet to see him in actual combat. He, aside from Father and myself, is the most competent resident of Wayne Manor.

Again, you need to reassess your definition of ‘incriminating’. There is nothing I can share, without consequence, that hasn’t already been made public by the GCPD. I will say, however, that my position as the superior child remains unchallenged. Not that any of those bastards Father has taken in would ever pose any kind of challenge to me or you.

I must ask, you know where I am, so is it not fair that you tell me where you are? The return address you have used leads to a PO box in Elmerton, Illinois, but I doubt that’s where you really are. Your description of ‘boring’ in regards to the crime rate is fully expected of anywhere when compared to Gotham, though that goes nearly doubly so for the midwest.

It was a shock to me as well, though I have been handling it. None of the others have noticed any unease, so I will take it. It will not do to show weakness in the face of enemies. I can agree, however, that the lack of use of Arabic is disappointing. I do not fear that I will ever forget the language or our home, but I do regret to say that I have encountered similar problems you have.

Father insists that I go to school with others my age to ‘socialize’, though I do not see the point. It’s all thinly veiled insults from the adults we are placed in the charge of. I am much smarter than my peers, so I have not been able to have a single intelligent conversation with any of them. The exception, however, being Jon Kent. He is adequate company. Our Father and his father are friends.

I have a cat named Alfred, after the butler. I would like to get a dog, but Father has denied my request. I have, however, managed to hide Goliath in the cave. Father knows he is there, but the others remain oblivious.

As for hobbies, art is the only one worth mentioning. I have several sets of paints and colors and pencils, though I remain partial to charcoal. Paper is the easiest to use, but I prefer canvas.

Of course I still have that dagger, Danyal. I have many weapons, but that is the only one that has never left my person.

Father is Jewish, though he was raised Catholic, and is an atheist; Grayson is Christian; Todd was raised Catholic, but is atheist; Drake was born to a Christian mother, but he follows after his father as an atheist; Neither Cain nor Brown were born into religious families, so they don’t follow any religion, as far as I’m aware.

Pennyworth has decorated the Manor for all of the holidays, though the only tradition I’ve actually seen practiced is the gift exchange from Christmas.

Honestly, you must work on your formatting. You give almost no information in exchange for your questions getting answers. It makes your letters very short. So, I will turn all of your questions back on you. I expect them to be answered sufficiently.

أفضل ما لدي لم يكن جيداً بما فيه الكفاية كنت أعلم أنك لا تزال على قيد الحياة، ومع ذلك لم أفعل شيئًا سوى نشر كذبة وفاتك.

Damian Wayne

***

The letter was a surprise, especially considering it’s a page and a half, though he should’ve expected it. He found it hilarious that the first thing Dami had done this time was to insult him. At least he’d waited a few lines in the last letter! It hurt a bit that Damian still thought this was a trick, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to blame him. He’d’ve acted the same way if their roles were reversed.

He liked hearing about Damian’s family. They’re so different compared to what the media says. Then again, he expected that. Most people are hardly ever exactly how they’re portrayed to bigger audiences. The Drs. Fenton being an exception.

And, yeah, he knew Dami was going to search the address, but did he really have to come out and say it like that? At least he knew the Shadows (League?) hadn’t gotten in the middle, otherwise he’d’ve been cut down by now. Small blessings.

Ah, Goliath the dragon bat. Danny remembers when they got Goliath. Hiding him was hard, but they managed. Though, he’s fairly certain that Mother knew they had him hidden in the caves of Nanda Parbat. That does beg the question, though, of how the hell Damian managed to get a - by now - fully grown dragon bat across continents and into a cave in New Jersey without being spotted? Did he even really want to know? Probably not.

Danny could remember the expression on Damian’s face when he realized that Goliath was getting bigger. They’d found him on their first mission for Grandfather after leaving the group that had been sent with them. They’d kept him moving between their rooms when they got back, never keeping him in one for more than a night before moving him to the other. Then suddenly, the creature they’d found that was no bigger than their forearms was as long as their arms from shoulder to fingertip! They had only been able to keep Goliath between their rooms for another month before having to hide him in the caves under Nanda Parbat.

And the food! Goliath, even as a baby dragon bat, could eat triple his body weight. It was a wonder no one found him! How does Damian keep him fed? And how have his siblings not noticed the dragon under their house? Thoughts for another time.

Danny closed his book as he finished it. It was the astrology one, clearly written for people new to the topic, but he wasn’t complaining. It was easy to understand and he found himself actually enjoying it more than he originally anticipated. He could see why the girls in his class liked it, too. He could see himself falling deeper into this rabbit hole, but he wasn’t upset about that.

He moved on to read the second book he’d gotten, the one about witchcraft. Briefly, he chuckled at the image that he was slowly coming to see as his future. “A witch,” he hummed with a smile, “Mother would be so disappointed.”

The book opened up with a brief history about the topic before going into a deep dive about different practices and how things had changed and improved throughout history. It also gave names to famous witches and witch hunters, one that he recognized.

Jack Fenton, about three years after Danny had been taken in by the family, had given Danny a full rundown of his and Maddie’s family histories. Fentonightingale had been the family name until Jack’s great-grandfather had changed it to Fenton when he married. John Fentonightingale was a well known witch hunter in Salem, Massachustes in 1600. He was best known for eating a slow acting poison in the form of - now extinct - flowers as evidence against an unnamed witch on trial. He died shortly thereafter, leaving his grieving wife and children.

The humor was not lost to Danny. “Looks like dad’ll be disappointed, too.”

“Knock, knock?” Jazz asked from the hallway, knocking her knuckle on his bedroom door.

“Yeah?” he called back, closing his book and putting it down.

Jazz opened the door. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been hiding out here all day. No plans with Sam or Tucker?”

Danny shook his head. “Nah. Tuck’s spending the break with his family and Sam’s been forced to go to a rich person party somewhere in Washington.”

“DC?”

“State.”

“She’s not too far.”

“Too far for an emergency extraction.”

“You sound like she’s gonna get killed or something.”

Danny snorted. “Don’t jinx it, Jazzercise.”

“I’m not gonna jinx it, Danimal.” She leaned against the door frame. “Besides, even if she did die, she’d come back as a ghost just to haunt you.”

He groaned and flopped over onto his side. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Why, ‘cause I’m right?” He groaned again. She laughed. “Alright, Dannibal Lector, since you’re obviously bored out of your mind, you wanna come watch a movie with me?”

“And risk mom and dad dragging us down into the lab?” He sat up, “No thanks.”

“Come on,” she goaded, “It’ll be fun! I’ll even let you pick the movie!”

“Hmmmm. A documentary on ghost hunting or a mockumentary on ghost hunting? Such a hard decision.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “Come on, D! You can’t stay locked in here forever.”

“Actually, J, I think I can. I’ve got food, water, and entertainment. I’ll be fine.”

“What about when you have to pee or shower?”

“I’ll put a bucket in the corner and dump it out the window.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“And rainwater is clean enough.”

“It’s literally not, though.”

“Well, I won’t know unless I try.”

“You’re not gonna live in here by yourself!”

“Why? You wanna join me? Sorry, but there’s only enough pillows for a one person fort.”

She snorted and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What’s hard to believe? Unless you’ve got pillows hidden up your-” He cut himself off with an exaggerated and mocking gasp. “Jazz! Do you have pillows hidden up your ass?”

“Danny!” she scolded, but her tone was fond, “Watch your language, brat!”

“What?” he giggled, “It’s a genuine question.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, “No, I do not have pillows shoved up my ass.”

“Language!” he mocked.

“Are you gonna come watch a movie with me or not?”

“Sure, sure,” he stood, “But if we get dragged down to the lab, I’m blaming you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

*

Danny was right. He was right and he was never listening to Jazz ever again. He could live in his room until he turned eighteen! That was totally something he could do. It wasn’t like he’d been raised to survive off of less in less space.

Instead of watching a movie they’d seen a million times before, the siblings had decided to watch YouTube on the TV. Halfway into Episode 4 of Buzzfeed Unsolved, their parents came up and dragged them down to the lab to show them their breakthrough from the previous night.

Looking at it, it was much less a breakthrough and more of ‘getting closer to the final picture’. The Ghost Portal had been a project that Jack and Maddie had been working on since college. A friend of theirs had gotten sent to the hospital for this project and had yet to be released. What had given them the idea that this was safe to build in their basement, let alone show their children? Regardless, it was too late now, so Danny and Jazz were forced to roll with it.

“We’re almost done with it!” Jack looked like a proud parent when he was looking at the thing.

The Ghost Portal, as it was now, was built directly into the furthermost wall of the basement. It wasn’t load bearing, thank the gods. The portal was ten feet deep, seven and a half feet tall, octagonal in shape. The paneling that covered the walls and ceiling was black with electric blue circuitry cutting through them. The blank spots where the paneling was not put up were gray, matching the cement floor of the lab. There were some work lights inside, white LED strips that lined the bottom seams where the floor met the walls. The floor itself was made of black tile and nearly completely covered in loose cables and unfinished paneling. There was a red button in place of one of the missing side panels that screamed ‘accident waiting to happen’.

“What is it?” Jazz asked, not daring to go closer than the stair doorway. Danny didn’t blame her.

“It’s the Ghost Portal, Jazzy!” Maddie’s grin was huge, taking up nearly her whole face. “We’ve nearly got it finished.”

“Yep!” Jack nodded excitedly, “All we’ve got left to do is finish the inside paneling, build the outer frame, and turn her on!”

“What about powering it?” Danny wondered just as Jazz said, “‘Her’?”

Jack still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the thing. “She’s already connected to the power grid; That’s why the circuitry in the paneling is glowing, see?”

Danny picked his way through the papers cluttering the table next to him, finding the portal’s blueprints on the very bottom. The handwriting in the margins was messy, obviously from two people and taking up almost every inch of the paper. The schematics of the portal itself was done in white and much neater than the black ink from his parents’ handwriting. A third person, probably their college friend, had been the one to draw the thing with the first basic formuli. Overall, it was messy and a hazard to look at.

“Are, uh, you guys sure that this won’t blow up our house?” Danny asked, unable to keep from scrunching his nose up at the sight of the blueprints.

“Positive.” Maddie sounded so serious, like it was the absolute truth.

“You wanna check out the inside?” Jack asked, practically bouncing like an excited puppy.

Jazz was quick to shake her head, going so far as to take a step back into the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Before Danny could follow her lead, though, Jack grabbed Danny and pulled him forwards.

“Go on,” the giant man urged.

Gulping, Danny complied. He was so going to lock himself in his room now. He didn’t plan on leaving until Sam and Tucker were both back in town! “Alright.” He hoped his hesitation was obvious enough for his parents to get the cue that he did not want to be doing this. Unfortunately, neither picked up on it. Jazz did, but she wasn’t about to risk moving closer in case Jack or Maddie got the idea of shoving her towards the thing, too.

Danny had a bad feeling about this.

Stepping into the tunnel that was the portal was like walking into a different world. Somehow, even though he was only half a foot in and there was light on all sides, it was dark in there. The blue from the paneling was nearly nonexistent, and the white LEDs lining the floor were so dim that they were useless. Was this a purposeful thing? How was this possible?

The cables and cords that had been visible from the outside were almost invisible in the somehow lower lighting of the portal tunnel, same with the unfinished wall panels on the floor. And, as a result of the hazardous mess on the floor and the near pitch dark, Danny tripped halfway through. His training didn’t let him fall, but his inability to keep up the rigorous schedule he’d been raised on made him reach out to steady himself on the wall.

Millimeters before his fingers so much as grazed the button he’d not been able to see after crossing the threshold, Danny heard the barely there whisper of “Time Out.” followed almost immediately by “Time in.” at the same volume.

Catching himself on the cold, softly glowing paneling of the wall, Danny was quick to straighten out and turn around. That thing gave him the creeps and he would much rather go back to reading his book, thank you.

“So, Dann-o?” Jack clapped his shoulder when he got back to them, “What’d ya think?”

Unable to disappoint the people he’d come to see as his parents, Danny plastered a smile on his face and said, “It’s pretty cool. I can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s finished!”

Maddie cheered. “Right? As soon as it’s done, those assholes at Harvard will have to take us seriously!”

Danny seriously doubted they would. In fact, he doubted the portal would even work at all. It’s a hypothetical experiment that had the potential and huge likelihood of going catastrophically wrong. How much power would it take to even turn the thing on? Several city blocks at least, right? If that blows up, it'll take out not only their house, but probably half the city and everyone within the blast radius.

Danny should report this to somebody.

“That’s not even the best part!” Jack exclaimed, hurting over to what looked like an electrical box that had been set into the unfinished walls of the basement lab. Opening the small metal door revealed a hand scanner that Jack quickly placed his hand on. After five seconds, a small compartment just above the scanner opened up. Inside was a small glass phial of thick, glowing green liquid. Liquid that Danny recognised.

Shit.

“This is what’s gonna power the portal after the initial launch,” Jack explained, his voice reverent as he cradled the phial in his large hands, “Ectoplasm.”

Ecto-what? Danny knew that glowing liquid. He’d only seen it once, but he knew what it was. He could say, with full confidence and  a puffed chest, that what his dad was currently holding was a phial of Lazarus Water. The color and consistency were the same as the Pits. The stuff even glowed like the Pit Water! It was terrifying that Danny had encountered any of the stuff this far from the Shadows, and he found himself taking several steps back toward Jazz.

“That’s, um, that’s-”

“Awesome, dad!” Jazz said for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him back. He was so glad she had because he was sure he was seconds away from freezing in place. “Danny’s getting tired, though, and I’m a bit hungry, so we’re gonna head back upstairs now. Is that alright?”

“Sounds great, sweetie,” Maddie waved the two off in a clear dismissal, “We’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Danny rushed up the stairs, waiting for Jazz in the kitchen. When she joined him she muttered, “Liar.” under her breath before closing the door. “So,” she said to Danny.

“So.” he repeated.

“What made you so freak out down there?” she asked, “Not that I blame you. That portal thing freaked me out, too.”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“It’s not healthy to bottle things up, Danny.”

“I know, I just don’t want to talk about it right now,” Or ever. “Bad memories.”

Jazz’s expression softened. “Alright,” she nodded, “Do you want some chips?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna go to my room.”

“You can’t hide in there forever!”

He was halfway up the stairs. “I can try!”

Translation 1 - Arabic :: I will always forgive you, brother. You were put in the worst possible situation and you did the best you could with the knowledge you had. You would have only jeopardized yourself if you went back.

Translation 2 - Arabic :: My best wasn't good enough. I knew you were still alive, yet I did nothing but spread the lie of your death.

Part 1 Part 3

[jeankluv]

The tale of the fox and the knight - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 01

summary: You have been living all your life in almost isolation due to your true nature, one your parents want to hide and protect you from anyone finding it. But when the spring of your 20 year your parents grant you the wish of being able to walk around the city, you meet him. Your doom. Satoru Gojo, a white haired knight whose intentions in your eyes are unkown. And whose presence in your life will change everything, from how you see the world to your way of being.

words: 4,5k

tags: enemies to lovers, blood, eventual smut, Gojo is pretty rude at the beginning, Gojo ooc, betrayal, fantasy, magical creatures, angst, injuries, heavy language, no use of y/n or minimal use of y/n, female protagonist

notes: To celebrate Gojo’s birthday I’m posting the first chapter today!! I hope everyone enjoys it and pls take into account that Gojo is ooc. Now enjoy it 🤗

materialist | prologue | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

It had been five months since you met Gojo, or like he insisted on calling him, Satoru. His presence had truly shaken your world, not only because now thanks to him you could leave the castle and see more of the kingdom, but because it stirred your heart in an extremely strange and new way.

Your breath escaped your lips as you walked your private garden, autumn was almost over and winter was about to enter. Therefore the flowers were starting to die, one by one. You didn’t like that, you always loved the colorful views. You liked spring especially, because of how beautiful everything looked. On the other hand you hated winter, it was cold, wet and you didn’t have the chance to go to your private garden due to the low temperatures, but maybe now with your new knight with you, you could visit the famous winter festival Utahime told you about in the past.

“What are you planning on doing today princess?” Satoru’s voice placed you back in your reality.

You looked at him through your eyelashes, he was smiling and staring at you. “Can we go to the market? I wanna eat those sweets again.” You smiled.

“Whatever you wish for, princess.” He smirked.

You turned your head away from his gaze, you could not deny something, and it was how nervous your heart turned whenever it was just you and Satoru.

You tried to act as normal as you could on your way to the market. Satoru sat across from you in the carriage, with his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the window. It had been five months since Satoru had started working as your knight, but you barely knew anything about him.

He didn’t talk about anything other than work. You wondered if his parents were still alive, if he had siblings, if he was from the city or perhaps from a nearby village. You really wanted to get to know him better, build up a stronger bond between the both of you. But still you were hesitant.

“Ask me, princess.” You heard his voice.

“Huh?” You looked at him and his bluish eyes were penetrating you. “Oh… I wasn’t…”

“C’mon princess, I think I have spent enough time with you to know that your pretty face is a big question mark right now.” He smiled cockily and you felt the need to jump off the carriage.

“I… Well…” You hesitated, was it find to ask him? Wasn’t he going to get angry or upset? “I was wondering where are you from?”

Satoru smiled and composed himself on the seat. “From the east, near the coast.” You opened your eyes slightly. “What princess, are you impressed?”

“Have you been to the sea?!” You said with excitement.

Satoru nodded and then looked at you with a strange face. “You have never been to the coast?” You shook your head. “How is that? Doesn’t the royal family own a castle near the west coast?”

“Oh…” You smiled sadly. “Yeah… but I used to stay in the main castle with my nanny.” You looked at him.

“Why would they leave their beloved daughter alone?”

“I wasn’t alone!” You said out loud. “My mother used to be gone only for two or three days and everyone in the palace used to take good care of me, Utahime was always with me.”

“But why, princess?”

You bite your bottom lip and sighed. “It’s complicated…”

The carrier stopped moving and a voice shouted. “We have arrived princess.”

Your eyes left Satoru’s and you looked outside, a big smile forming on your lips. “Yes! Let’s go Satoru.” Satoru nodded and he got out of the carrier before you, giving you his hand to get out of the carriage.

That gesture, which was the usual one that any gentleman had to do when a noblewoman got out of her carriage, made your heart race. And it shouldn't.

You walked before him, feeling his steps right behind you, like a shadow. But his presence quickly faded away when your eyes saw the stores of food in front of you.

You mind could only thing about the delicious food you were going to taste that morning.

You walked up to the little stand that was manned by an old lady and smiled. “Good morning. May I have one of these?” You said pointing at one of the caramelized apples.

“Of course dear.” The old lady replied with a smile.

The fact that no one knew what the princess looked like was an advantage, you could walk freely through the streets without any problem, although the gazes were constantly on you, due to the companion who followed you. It was not surprising, he was handsome, tall and had a smile that made everyone sigh.

“Thank you.” You said as you took the apple.

“Enjoy it!”

A shadow fell over you and someone’s breath hit your ear, Satoru Gojo had leaned over and just bit into the caramel apple you had bought.

“Hey!” You shouted. Satoru licked his lips and smiled.

“I’m sorry princess, but I have to make sure it’s not poisoned. It’s for your safety.” The flirtatious smile spread across his face.

“Oh, what a cute couple.” The lady at the stall exclaimed.

“We are not…!”

“Yeah, my wife is beautiful, isn’t she?” Satoru smiled.

“Oh she surely is, both of you, I’m sure your babies would be adorable.” You felt how your cheeks grew warmer as the old lady’s words sunk on your ears.

“I’m sure they will. Now if you excuse us.” Satoru said and guide you away from her.

You walked in front of Satoru, feeling ashamed of his words and his bold act, he knew that if he did that act with any other member of the royal family, Satoru Gojo would be headless right now.

“You lost your mind?” You told him, once you were far from the place.

“Princess, what if that apple was poisoned?” He leaned slightly towards you, feeling his breath brush against your cheek.

Your gaze lowered, avoiding his. “That… That’s not possible!”

“You don’t know that.” Satoru said, crossing his arms.

“You can’t go around saying that I’m your wife, you can get your head cut off for it.” You said, looking back up.

“Are you going to report me?” He said, a cocky smile appearing on his face.

“I… I should!” You shouted.

“But you won’t.” The smile never leaving his face. “Now c’mon princess, it’s time to go back.”

“What already? We just arrived…” You pouted.

“Yeah, but you said it was going to be quick, right.” He started walking. “Besides, didn't you have to meet your maid, the one that secretly is preparing your dress for the autumn ball?”

“Utahime… her name is Utahime.” You responded with annoyance.

“Whatever…” He rolled his eyes.

“And yeah. I’m going to be the prettiest girl in the whole ball thanks to Utahime’s dress.”

“I’m sure you will, princess.” He gave you his hand to help you get in the carriage.

The ride back to the castle was in complete silence, Satoru didn’t say a single thing during the whole trip, his eyes were always focused on the window. And you couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding behind those bluish eyes.

He left the carriage before you and like always he helped you down. Following your steps, you both went to your room, where Utahime was already waiting for you, with your dress for the ball.

“You finished it?” You ran to her with excitement.

“Yeah…” She said with a shy smile. “You should try it on, to see if I need to fix something.”

You nodded. “But I’m sure it will be perfect.” You hugged her. You heard a small chuckle coming from behind and you turned to look at the owner of that laugh. “What?”

“My bad princess…” He said with a smirk. “But be careful, if you look so stunning, someone might ask for your hand in marriage.”

“That won’t happen.” You said.

“It might.” Utahime spoke. “This is your first public appearance for people outside and a lot of dukes, someone might want to propose to you.” She said touching your hair. “You are so beautiful so it wouldn’t be surprising if tomorrow’s night someone asks for your hand in marriage.”

You looked down with your cheeks slightly red. “I will try the dress.” You said moving away from Utahime’s touch and going to try the dress.

“I will help you.” She said following you.

You both entered the separate room and Utahime started to help you out with the dress, you were confident about it, you knew Utahime did a good job with it and that everyone was going to be amazed at the dress. And hopefully, seeing Utahime’s work, your parents would allow you to help her with her studies to become a designer.

But you couldn’t help but notice how something was off with Utahime.

“Uta… it’s something wrong.” She stopped moving her hands and looked at you.

“Nothing… I was just… thinking, nothing important.” She gave you a fake smile and you sighed.

“Utahime, talk to me.” You turned around, holding her hands.

She avoided your gaze for a brief moment. “I… princess I don’t trust that man.” She whispered.

Your eyebrow rises up slowly. “Gojo?” She nodded. “Why?”

“I just… I don’t know princess, I have a bad feeling.”

You shook your head. “Utahime you are overthinking, Gojo has been the best knight I could ask for. Look!” You pointed at yourself. “I have been going out and I’m still here.” You said with a bright smile.

Utahime bit her lip and then sighed. “Princess, just… be careful.”

“I will, but there is no need to worry.” You said back, searching to calm her down. “Now, how do I look?” You turned around to look at the mirror.

Your eyes lit up when you saw the dress Utahime had prepared for you, fitting perfectly to your body. The emerald-colored fabric fell softly and the deep, heart-shaped neckline highlighted your chest. While the corset was adorned with golden chains, which shone brightly under the light of the room. The skirt fell like a waterfall, the translucent fabric that Utahime had placed created a play of light and shadow with each of your movements. Adorned with beautiful crystals that made that dress come to life.

“Utahime…” You said, trying to find the words. “This is…”

Utahime smiled. “You look beautiful, princess.”

“Thank you Utahime.” You turned around to hug her. “This is absolutely magical.”

“I’m glad to hear that, princess.” She broke the hug and smiled at you. “The green really suits your red hair.”

You looked back at the mirror and smiled. “Yeah… it does.” It really did. “I will show it to Gojo.” You walked out the room.

When you walked out of the room you had changed in, Satoru was standing by the window, looking out at the view from your room. His back was to you and he didn’t start to turn around until you made a small sound in your throat, indicating that you were there. Your heart was pounding as you watched him slowly turn to look at you.

You didn’t quite understand the feeling, but you could imagine it and you wanted to suppress it by any means necessary, but the moment Satoru’s eyes landed on your figure, your heart exploded. You wondered if Satoru’s heart also fluttered like yours had.

Satoru stood there, staring at you, his blue eyes scanning every part of you. Your heart wanted to believe it was because Satoru wanted to record every detail of that dress, how it fit you, how you looked.

A smirk appeared on Satoru’s face. “If you don’t want anyone to ask for your hand, you are doing a terrible job, princess.” He approached you. “Because all the eyes will be on you.” He whispered to your ear, making a shiver go through your entire body. “Now, I have to leave.” He stepped away from you and with his hand on his chest he bowed. “I will see you later, princess.”

You looked at him still frozen in place. “Yeah… yeah okay.” You said before Satoru left the room.

The room felt in complete silence, as you looked at the closer door.

But that silence didn’t last long when Utahime’s voice called out to you. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him…” She whispered with her gaze on you.

You coughed, surprised by Utahime’s accusation. “No… no, no, it’s just that Sa-Gojo has that aura. He’s my knight.” You shook your head and smiled.

Repeating that in your head, over and over, trying to make sure it was real and not a lie you were telling your best friend.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Satoru sighed as he stepped outside of your room. Five months of having to be your shadow was really exhausting, but fortunately everything was ending tomorrow. If the plan went as planned, tomorrow would be the last time Satoru would have to set foot in that palace and he would head home.

He was only worried about one thing, and that was you. But not because he cared about you, Satoru didn’t give a single fuck, but because his king asked him to bring you to him alive and for what he knew about you, you were like a deer, so fragile and scared, but at the same time always excited about new things.

Satoru hated that so much. How your big eyes would always sparkle for anything. He couldn’t stand it, you were just a princess, a princess who never suffered from anything, who was born with a crown on your head and everything you needed to care about was about choosing the perfect dress for your every day.

It was annoying. But the last part of the mission was about to begin. After arriving at Zerua a year ago and infiltrating himself as part of the knights, he was finally going back home. Who could though, he missed Sukuna’s annoying ass the most.

“Where are you going?” Satoru's eyebrow raised up when he heard the voice.

“Just for a walk, and check the place where the dance will take place.” He turned around with a cocky smile.

“Careful Gojo, my eyes are on you.” The long haired guy let out.

“You hate me that much because I took your spot.” His arm crossed over his chest. “Geto?”

Geto stayed silent while he looked at Satoru with anger. “You came out of nowhere and won the privilege of serving the princess… you are not trustworthy.”

Satoru chuckled. “Maybe you should've worked harder to get the position.” He mocked. “And maybe like that you could be serving your dear princess.” Satoru's smirk grew bigger when he noticed the anger on Geto’s face. “Am I wrong, Geto? You love the princess.”

“Gojo, watch your tongue.” He replied.

He laughed. “You should watch your heart, I hope you don’t die tomorrow night when you see me walking with the princess to the ball.” And turned around without giving the opportunity to let him say a word.

Satoru proudly walked away with his head high, but knowing that Geto could be a problem for his plan. His steps continue going in one direction.

Satoru never turned his head to look at Geto's expression, he knew that his face was probably still red and his fists were clenched in rage. It was no secret to anyone when they were preparing to be chosen to be the princess's direct knights that Suguru Geto had feelings for her, apparently the boy had grown up in the stable and had interacted on some other occasion with the princess, and Satoru did not deny it, the princess had a natural charm, a charm that could make any fool fall.

But he was not like those stupid fools there.

The air of that last summer day hit Satoru’s cheeks as he stepped outside the palace and walked towards where his horse was.

“Hey buddy.” Satoru touched his horse face gently. “You hungry?” He said giving the animal a carrot. “There, there…” He said. “Tomorrow will be a rough night okay…” He whispered. “I want you to be ready.” The horse moved his head up and down as if he was nodding and Satoru smiled.

Satoru had been with that horse for more than five years, he had always accompanied him on all his journeys, they were the best of all, what less for someone like Satoru Gojo.

The sound of an eagle gained the attention of Satoru who looked at the sky and smirked.

His eyes then falled, looking around to each corner, making sure he was alone. Once he was sure he started walking towards the forest, making sure no one was following him and that he got lost on it.

Once he was far enough, he extended his arm, letting the eagle approach him. The eagle had a small piece of paper rolled up in its right paw. Satoru carefully took it from the eagle and unfolded it to read it.

“The wolf is on the mountain and will howl when the blue moon shines in the sky.”

Satoru smiled, everything was going to turn out as planned, tomorrow the wolf would howl and the little bunny would run away from the castle.

Soon he was going to be back at home, soon he was going to bring back the honor his family lost when the kingdom of Zerua killed them, soon he was not going to be there. Only one more day. Just one.

“What are you doing?” He heard the same voice as a few moments before.

Satoru chuckled and let the eagle go, making sure the pirate of paper was attached to the leg of the animal.

“Geto…” Satoru turned around. “You followed me here?”

“Respond to my question!” He black haired guy shouted.

“Wow!” Satoru smiled. “Someone is angry? C’mon I was just here, I heard strange noises and came here to check.”

“And an eagle came to you?” Geto tilted his head.

“What can I say? I’m charming!”

“Cut that shit Gojo!” Geto He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at him. “This is where it all ends.”

Satoru’s gaze darkened and a devilish smile appeared on his lips. “Yes, for you, partner, or have you forgotten who always came first during our training?”

Geto swallowed hard, Satoru was right, he had no chance of winning against him but he couldn't allow him to continue walking through the castle, he couldn't let your safety be in the hands of that white wolf.

Geto's fists turned white as he gripped his sword tightly and charged at Satoru without hesitation.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You didn't see Satoru again after he left your room, the sun had risen again when his face appeared in your bedroom. Your heart suddenly raced as his eyes locked on you, you were already fully dressed but you still felt light being watched by his blue eyes.

“Today is the grand ball.” He said. “You nervous princess, a Prince might come for you.”

“I… no that won’t happen!” You didn’t want that to happen.

He chuckled. “Your face turns red when you are angry, you know right?” He approached you.

You turned around, avoiding his gaze. “Today we are going to the garden.” You told him. “I won’t go to the town, because I will have to start getting ready for the ball early and I want to be near the castle.”

“Okay.” He responded, he was already in his position, with his back straight, his arms behind his body and his feet forming a V.

When you saw him like that you remembered that you were from different worlds, that he was your knight and your heart stopped beating with so much joy.

“Princess?” Your eyes blinked as you looked at him. “If you are going to stay there looking at the horizon, maybe I should take a seat.”

“Sorry! Let’s keep going.”

You walked as always before him. He followed you in silence, as he always did and then while you were reading he stood there, in silence too.

You would like to hear his jokes and silliness, but you knew it wasn’t right, not when your parents' guards were not far away. Any bad word or something that could be interpreted as offensive towards the crown and Satoru would be executed.

The pages of your book started to fly as the minutes started to run, the only sound in that place was the sound of birds singing, which were starting to be less since winter was beginning.

A thick cloth rested over your shoulders, and you looked up in surprise, meeting Satoru’s gaze. “It’s going to rain and the temperature is starting to drop.” He said in a soft tone. “You should go back to your chambers and start preparing for the ball.”

You held the soft fabric that had rested on your shoulders and nodded. “Thank you…” You whispered, unable to formulate anything else.

He gave you his hand for you to take it and it was when you noticed a small wound on it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” You asked, looking at his hand.

“Just training, nothing to worry about princess.” He smiled and you nodded trusting his words.

The walk back to your chamber was silent, Satoru walked behind you without saying a word. Before even reaching your chamber the heavy water drops started to fall from the dark clouds that now covered the sky.

A cold shiver ran through your back as if something was going to happen. Something you were unaware of.

Your eyes left the big window on the side and kept on walking until you stopped right in front of your chamber. Satoru farewell and you were left with your maids, who helped you start getting ready.

The rain was heavy, making noise on your window, it almost felt like the rain was trying to tell you something. The knot in your stomach grew bigger and bigger as the sound of the rain became more overwhelming.

The soft brush touched your cheeks, while another of your maids combed your hair. The dress looked better than when you had tried it on and the accessories and hairstyle were only going to make your beauty dazzle the place.

With the click of the hairpin adjusting to your hair you opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the reflection of your dressing table mirror. All your maids began to praise your beautiful appearance, to the point of making you feel shy at their words.

Utahime watched you from the side, with a loving smile. That night you were going to tell everyone that that beautiful dress had been made by her, you wanted, you longed for Utahime to receive the recognition she deserved.

You thanked each one of them and walked towards Utahime. “Thank you…” You whispered to her.

“You look beautiful, princess.” She smiled as she looked at you.

“All thanks to you.” You said back.

“Princess.” One of the other maids spoke. “Mr. Gojo is outside waiting for you.”

“Oh!” You nodded and briefly looked at Utahime. “I will see you later.”

“Have fun.” She said.

You walked towards the door, nervous. To see Satoru, for the night, for everything that was about to happen.

The doors of your room opened, letting you see Satoru.

Silence fell over you and you felt like the world had faded away the moment your eyes met.

You felt like it was just the two of you there, that there was no one else and you felt like you could do whatever you wanted. Whatever you wanted.

“I…” You began. But soon enough that fantasy broke.

“You look amazing, her majesty.” Satoru bowed to you.

You couldn’t do anything.

“Let me escort you to the ball.” He handed you his arm and with shaky hands you accepted.

The walk to the ballroom was shorter than you would have liked, and before you knew it, you were surrounded by your parents and noble people who were greeting you for the first time.

Your eyes looked at Satoru, away from you. Distant from your world.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

It was past eleven when you finally were able to break free from all the guests and especially from the guy who had been trying to ask for your hand all night.

You walked straight to one person, to him.

“Dance with me.” You looked at him.

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he studied your face. “I’m sorry princess, but it wouldn't be correct.”

“Please, just one dance.” You begged, you needed that, you wanted that.

Satoru's eyes then move to the side and picture a guy looking at you. “Is it because of him?”

“I… please Satoru…” You looked to the guy, who was looking at you.

Satoru sighed, he didn’t want to dance with you and he shouldn’t dance with you, but he…

“Alright.”

His hand took yours and together you walked to the front, all the eyes fell on you and as the music began the whispers between the people also began.

“Relax princess, your hand is starting to wet mine.” He said with a grin.

“Oh… I…” You tried pulling your hand away, you were nervous and it was starting to show up.

But Satoru pulled you closer to him, guiding you through that room with the melody of the song that they were playing. Your heart started to pump on your chest, almost sounding the same as the drums of the room.

Looking up, to look at his face didn’t help, because his eyes were right on you, not blinking and studying you.

In that instant, you wonder what he was thinking, he was too difficult for you to read, his eyes were hiding something, something you felt like you were too far away from reaching.

His movements were smooth, almost as if he knew what he was doing, which was strange but you didn’t care. You just let yourself enjoy that moment, a scenery that you imagined maybe more than once.

When the last note of the piano resonated across the room, Satoru and you stayed there, looking at each other.

Your heart started to rise, with the words you were trying so desperately to bury.

“Satoru…” His eyes were locked on you, not blinking. “I… I li…”

A deafening extrusion causes your ears to start ringing loudly.

What was happening?

Soon you started coughing, the room had started to fill with smoke.

“Princess!” Satoru called you. “We need to leave, now!”

You didn’t quite understand what was going on, the screams were so loud and your head was starting to spin. Satoru’s strong arm held you tightly and guided you outside the palace to where the horses were.

“Wait…” You said coughing. “My parents… Utahime… they are…” You tried speaking.

“Don’t worry…” Satoru said. “I’m sure they will be alright, but I need to put you safe.”

He held you by the hip and sat you on his horse, then climbed in. Your head still hurt and the questions kept coming.

Leaning against Satoru's chest, you closed your eyes hoping that when you opened them again you would be back in your chambers and everything would be okay.

— wait patiently for the next chapter

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[radioisntdead]

Hi can I request alastor x Vox's sister reader? Reader isn't a tech demon like Vox and kinda the opposite of when it comes to technology.

Basically the equivalent of someone who's so bad at cooking they could burn water except with technology. And maybe Vox didn't know they were down in hell and only found out well spying on Alastor and reader accidently does that destroys a tech thing.

You dont have to do it if you'd dint want to and sorry its so long I hope it's not to weird or specific.

Good evening My dear! I may have gone slightly overboard, I had fun with this request!

You know where to find me, I know where to look.

Alastor x female reader, Vox & sister reader

Warnings!!

Vox being a creepy lil tv creeper, implied Radiosilence, Alastor plots to take out the reader at one point, both reader and Alastor are on the Aroace spectrum, Am I projecting a little? Yes

Reader has beef with microwaves, not proof read apologies for any spelling mistakes, Leaning into fanon territory here! Ending a little scrambled because it's 7 am and I am supposed to be up in three hours.

Vox's sister was something he didn't talk about often or at all, maybe a brief whisper of "[Name] would like this"

when he saw something she would like but nothing more, while Vox had managed to live up until the 50's you had died before him, a unspecified illness had taken your life, he suspected it was from you over working yourself but he couldn't prove it, all he knew was that you were more then likely in heaven with the angels, probably doing whatever you please.

He'd like to see his sister again after all the two of you were little troublemakers growing up, sneakily stealing the freshly baked cookies your mother made, spraying the neighbors son with the hose when he shoved Vox onto the ground or throwing rotten eggs at the neighbors other son who tried to pull your pigtails, although you did fight a fair amount, with you chasing him down with a baseball bat after he had broken the head off of your doll one time.

When the war took the life of your father and heartbreak took your mother's years after, when the two of you were in the middle of your teenage years, the two of you only had each other, you had each other's backs, even if you disapproved of your brothers obsession with the up and coming TV technology, it worked in his favor once he landed a job working with it, managing to scramble up the connections to get you a nice job as some guys secretary, it paid well and the guy wasn't stupid enough to mess around with Vox's sister.

To his knowledge you didn't get involved in the field politics like he did, where he trampled over the weak ones, stealing ideas and parading them off as his own when his own ideas were rejected, And the other things he did to get to the top, you were a decent person, a woman far beyond her time one would say.

However unknown to him his sister was causing up trouble in her own right, finding the weak spots of her bosses and exploiting them via blackmail or something amongst those lines, and if they refused to be blackmailed by her? Not even giving her a pretty penny to keep her mouth shut about their affairs? Their deals? Their tax fraud? Well the newspaper would have a field day with the scoop she anonymously dropped off.

Both siblings were doomed to fall below, maybe if they had perished around the same time they wouldn't had been separated, maybe she would've even joined the Vee's!

But they perished separately, years apart.

You met Alastor not long after dying, the deer radio host befriending you rather quickly.

Deer were ironically one of your favorite animals, and you always did prefer the radio as opposed to your brothers television, maybe that's why you foolishly put your trust in a friendship with Alastor, that was repaid with the Radio demon reluctantly falling for your charms, you falling for his,and not with him trying to eat you or making a deal with him and taking your soul.

Vox similarly had met Alastor after he had perished, and they were on friendly terms up until Alastor had, to be blunt rejected Vox's proposal, and then vanished for seven years.

Not once in those years of supposed friendship did Vox learn about you, he didn't even know the radio demon had a spouse, let alone that it was his own sister,

It's not that Alastor was ashamed of you or anything, he simply didn't think Vox was important enough to introduce you too, even when you were considered just a good friend and not his spouse, he considered Vox a supposed, one friend but not to the level of Rosie for example,

Rosie was the first person to know about you

Most types of modern technology would fizzle out or explode in your hands, you learned this the hard way after purchasing a flip phone and it exploded in your hands once you turned it on.

Alastor did NOT let you live that down, saying that it was your fault for trusting in faulty modern technology, eventually after some experimenting with random technology it was discovered that anything from the 2000's forward were practically expensive bombs for you,

Alastor took great joy in snatching up modern electronics and placing them in your hands to be rid of them before taking care of the unfortunate sinner that owned them, either making a snack out of them or taking their soul in a deal.

You didn't mind it much, was it somewhat inconvenient? Yes without a doubt, everyone kept their electronics away from you, you could be talking to Angel and he'd slide his phone far away from you, was that a bit much? Probably but if he pissed you off enough for whatever reason you could just reach over and BOOM no more phone!

Vox being the nosey control freak he was, used his devices to lurk around the hotel, and for plot related reasons managed to sneak into the hotel undetected with a remote control car with a camera the size of a hot wheels, at first he didn't see much, The princess and her girlfriend having a little date, The cat bartender and Angel Dust chatting while drinking, Niffty traumatizing baby bugs, blah blah boring stuff to him,

However he perked up as he spotted the radio demon, in the kitchen for whatever reason, cooking away, coat put to the side, sleeves rolled up, tail exposed, chopping up celery, bell peppers, garlic and onions while humming a tune,

Vox watched in stalkerish excitement as Alastor chopped the vegetables to prep for the meal he was making, it wasn't anything to be excited about but he was anyway,

Vox's expression changed from excitement to displeasure as someone walked into the kitchen, Joyfully calling out for Alastor while holding up a bag of what looked to be groceries,

Alastor turned, tail moving swiftly back and forth at the sight of his beloved spouse you moved forwards, just barely brushing against Vox's little spy car causing it to burst into flames.

Simultaneously causing Vox to break out in a sting of curses while you and Alastor looked at each other in confusion, before your face twisted into one of frustration, assuming you had bumped into some type of kitchen gizmo

"Can I NOT touch kitchen appliances anymore?!"

"Settle down dearest, and put down the produce please."

Vox came back at later date with another hot wheel camera, managing to sneak into the hotel when Angel dust opened the hotel doors to leave, this time Vox was determined to avoid whatever had caused the first device to explode,

There wasn't anything worth wild for him, The princess was scrambling with papers, the king of hell surrounded himself with ducks for some apparent reason?? Alastor was nowhere to be seen, but the person he was with in the kitchen was, sat at the bar listening to Niffty explain fanfiction while the bartender nursed a drink muttering something about being too sober for that.

Vox squinted as he zoomed closer to you, he stared for a few minutes before recognizing you as his sister, you looked different then when you were alive but it was without a doubt you.

Why the fuck were you down here?! And why were you in the hotel?! Did you know he was here?! Probably not considering he had a TV for a head now and went by Vox instead of whatever normal human name he had before.

Vox observed for the next couple of days, catching on that you and most modern technology did NOT mix, you had taken down twenty-five of his hot wheel cameras just by nicking them, you also had weird beef with Microwaves, sometimes they worked for you, and others times they fizzled down and refuses to work for you,

It annoyed you to no end especially when you were trying to eat a microwaved meal behind Alastor's back.

He wondered what would happen if you touched his head at all, would he explode? He didn't want to find out.

You hadn't changed much from when the two of you were alive, maybe more outgoing and confident but you were still the sister he grew up with, he debated on whether he should reach out, what would he say?

'hey sister, it's been a couple of decades I've been watching you? Join the Vees!'

that's not a normal thing to say, Not to mention Alastor more then likely wouldn't let him get near you

He found that you and Alastor were close, too close for his liking, cooking together, the two of you would dance together, Alastor would bite you when the two of you were allegedly alone, and the two of you even shared a room!

Was Vox in denial about the obvious? Yes, yes he was.

On one side there was that sibling protectiveness on the other he was jealous because why didn't Alastor treat him like he did you when they were on good terms?! Why didn't he? Was this why he turned him down on joining the Vee's?

Was it because of you? How long have the two of you known each other? Why didn't Alastor mention you to him? Did Alastor not trust him during their friendship? Of course he didn't, he was a heartless cannibalistic deer with gross deer hooves,

Clearly you were being held hostage or something, maybe you sold your soul to Alastor?

Alastor was clearly using you for his own entertainment like he had with Vox during their friendship, after All Alastor could never love another person, he was incapable of it.

But he wasn't incapable of it, you weren't an exception to Alastor's Alastory-ness, and he wasn't an exception to your you-ness

Neither you or Alastor were big on the whole romance thing,

You, in life didn't care much for it preferring to focus your time and energy on blackmailing folks and saving enough money to do whatever your heart desired and Alastor was similar, only instead of blackmail and money it was his radioshow and murder.

And that didn't change after death, even after you met Alastor.

You honestly couldn't pinpoint when you and Alastor fell for each other, it came slow like a horror movie where a serial killer was coming up behind the victim, no one noticing the killer until it was too late,

It got you first, at first you thought he just got bumped up from a good friend to a close friend, then a best friend and that's why you were so fond of him,

Until you started wishing to do unholy things,

Like holding hands, or petting his ears!

The minute you figured out what the budding feelings that had begun to weave themselves inside you,

you resulted to shoving them down, hopefully hiding them away until they disappeared completely, or until you gaslit yourself enough that they never existed in the first place, that it was just heartburn or something,

but that didn't happen, they just got stronger up until the point where it hurt, until you had to physically distance yourself from Alastor in hopes they subsided.

Alastor on the other hand, had it slightly worse,

For him it didn't hit him in small gaps like it did for you, it hit him all at once,

he legitimately thought he had somehow gotten deathly ill, perhaps he had gotten cursed? Maybe he wasn't as fond of you as he thought and instead hated your guts for whatever reason?

But if that was the case why did he yearn for your presence? Especially after you for some reason distanced yourself from him?

Why did he desire to chat with you? Why did he wish to cook you a meal and have a lovely dinner with just the two of you??

He eventually went to Rosie, his most trusted friend with this problem

his smile was strained when Rosie laughed at his troubles and told him he was, shockingly more then likely in love.

He acted like he was just told he had an incurable disease, like rabies.

Eventually he got to the point where he decided he should just take you out, in a murder way he couldn't afford a weak spot that he couldn't control,

However he couldn't go through with it when you showed up unannounced to his home, a frown present on your lovely face, you acted like a guilty child who had just stolen a batch of freshly baked cookies, you carried two folders and a board, and you asked him to hear you out as he let you inside,

You began to set up what one can only describe as one of those conspiracy theory boards, only instead of a conspiracy it was explaining how you managed to fall for Alastor, that he didn't necessarily have to return those feelings, and why he should let you live after knowing this information.

Thankfully before you could begin setting anything other then the board up and a few skeins of different colored yarn out, Alastor grabbed you by your shoulders and reluctantly told you that he adored you for some forshaken reason.

And that was that, nothing was ever officially labeled until a ring was put onto your finger many many years later, but it was comfortable, you stayed true to each other, you never went further then a light kiss or a cuddle, the two of you would be deemed odd for a couple, sometimes invalidated by folks who didn't know how to mind their own business, but they were usually dealt with quickly.

You adored Alastor, and He adored you in return.

And that was evident as he twirled you around his radio tower, Vox's hotwheel mini camera watching from the corner.

Soft jazz played as you were pulled back into Alastor's arms, a laugh escaping your throat as you smiled at him, taking a quick moment to reach your hand out and hold Alastor's face, planting a soft smooch on him before pulling away.

At that point Vox was disturbed and a peng of jealousy ran through him, one, because no one wants to see their sister doing that to their ARCH NEMESIS, and second of all, Out of everyone in hell, why did he have to choose you?

Yes you were nice, he guessed, but he's seen you be a feral little menace when the two of you were young, Alastor could do better [No he couldn't]

What did you have that Vox DIDN'T? Sure you didn't have a giant tv for a head but you also weren't an overlord like he was, you didn't have the connections he did, you didn't have a whole company that dominated the tech industry, you didn't HAVE what he did.

But you did have what he desperately wanted

You have Alastor's heart,

You get the adoring looks, you get the whispers of pure affection, you get to dance with him, you get Alastor.

No matter what Vox did, Alastor would never look at him the way he did you, he would never give him the look of pure affection, he would never ask him to dance, he would never give him his heart.

And that tore Vox apart.

So If he couldn't have Alastor, Neither could you.

To him, You either needed to get redeemed quickly and go up above or you were going to be joining the Vee's, whether you liked it or not.

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I know I said Rosie headcanons where supposed to be up next but I ran into some technical difficulties [my writing app crashed and a big chunk of it got deleted so I am not happy about that] anywho, Vox is a funky TV dude and I like the implications that he's lovesick about Alastor,

I need to finish my Vox fic because he's toxic there.

[ajokeformur-ray]

My thoughts on Jareth

If none of these thoughts or concepts are original or if they're canon elsewhere, then I'm unaware because I've never read any of the novelisations or comics etc. These thoughts are all based on over twenty years of loving this film; it raised me while I raised my younger siblings.

4.9k words, written during Labyrinth's 1 hour 41 minute runtime. Unedited.

Hesitant to post but doing it anyway because a friend read it last night and liked it enough to encourage me to post it.💖

I think a lot of who Jareth is, is contained within his music - “lost and lonely... no love injection... no one can blame you for walking away... don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, because it hurts like hell... that's underground.” - in this last one, he's telling her who he is and how his world works. He's lonely, the only one of his kind Underground, and in the end credit song it's rather heavily implied that his sister wished him away when they were children, and he begged for his daddy to come and get him, but he was never rescued and rather reluctantly was forced to become the King of the Goblins, somehow. Jareth knows the truth hurts, towards the end of the film he's hurting but he can't and won't stop it, because Sarah is his downfall and he knows it. He's doomed to shrivel up within her as a very strong childhood figure, lost and stagnant within her imagination, while Sarah will, at some point, grow up and thrive because of the lessons he taught her, the friends he gave her (or the creatures he put in her path, if you'd prefer to think of it like that) and his presence in her life. He was there for her when she was lost and lonely and wanting to escape from all of it. Jareth caught her as her world fell down, but when he fell... no one was there to catch him. He's doomed by his own narrative.

He watches her rehearse from the book he gave her in the park – he's getting to know her and who she is in the moments when no one's watching. A teenage girl who has had a traumatic time – the death of her mother/her parent's divorce and her father's remarriage (canon is shaky on whether her mother died or left to become a Hollywood actress and so her father remarried after their divorce, so I've included both possibilities for the sake of being thorough), the birth of a new sibling and the parentification that elder siblings get stuck with most of the time, – and is stuck in the uncomfortable stage of still being a child but not quite an adult. He's an owl while he watches her – suspicious in broad daylight but hidden; Sarah clearly thought nothing of it, and perhaps he was indulging her, giving her the audience and attention she craved, but also giving her and himself the company they both need - “lost and lonely”is repeated in the opening song; it's common ground they both share and is therefore a theme within the narrative. Jareth uses his music to speak, as do we all. Music binds love and humanity together, and Sarah's time in the park, her rehearsals, is clearly a more tangible deep dive into the world inside her mind – a world in which she is a heroine up against a villain who is as strong and powerful as she is, and an escape from her real life, which is always shattered by the chiming of the clock. Just like Cinderella, another fairy tale. This parallel with clocks, big white Cinderella ballroom dresses and reality shattering a fantasy, is evident also in the As The World Falls Down scene, in which Jareth's devastation is made clear. (More on this later!)

“But what no one knew, was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers” - here's where my main theory starts. Jareth is doomed by the narrative – his own narrative – because it's been constructed by a teenage girl who doesn't know quite yet who she wants to be, and this narrative has been constructed because of the powers he gave her. Jareth doomed himself by falling in love with Sarah and he knows it, but he's powerless to resist because it's in the narrative that he can't. This ties into the “fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave” scene later on, because Jareth is simply declaring them as equals with that line. He already fears the power she has over him, as she has revoked his power over her (or, the power that his character in her story has over her), he already loves her, he already is her slave, and he is already scared of what she could do, because now Sarah has realised that, while she does have to grow up and be a better person, she still has the time for childhood, and that is what she chooses in her rejection of Jareth; she chooses her childhood, delaying adulthood for a few years more. She's only fifteen, so I can't say I disagree with her decision.

Instances in which Sarah could have been harmed but she was not, showing that Jareth never intended her any actual harm and was merely fulfilling his role:

Threw a 'snake' at her, which turned into a soft furry goblin the second it came into contact with her (role here: Sarah wanted to be like the heroine she reads about in Labyrinth, so Jareth gave her a villain to go up against. He said it himself, he only took Toby because she asked him to. Prior to this, the only involvement he had in her life was giving her the book. Otherwise, he was a content silent spectator of this fascinating human who lives with her head in the clouds.)

Sarah got the riddle at the door right and she would have been able to progress through the tunnel into a deeper part of the Labyrinth, but then she said - “I think I'm getting smarter.” (this is confidence and therefore went unpunished; the trap door didn't open) “this is a piece of cake” (this did get her punished, because there's a fine line between confidence and arrogance and she tipped over the edge, so for being arrogant, Jareth hindered her progress and sent her into an Oubliette where Hoggle was waiting for her because, again, Jareth does not want to harm her. He's not an actual villain. He's doing this because she's written him as HER villain and he's merely doing what she asked him to do. Again.Another lesson here; he humbled her immediately and played the role of a mentor/guardian). She could have been hurt when she fell through, but she wasn't. There were Helping Hands to guide her way down gently, and then Hoggle was ready and waiting to take her to another part of the Labyrinth. No harm came to her, even though it very easily could have; Jareth could have let her fall through unguided, with no help on the way down. But, he opened up the world beneath her, and then manipulated his own world to catch her fall, like he promises in the romantic song As The World Falls Down (more on this later). For the second time, he threatened but did not fully follow through.

The cleaners!!! Second time Sarah got arrogant – this time, she looked down before she said “it's a piece of cake” so she was lying about it, and you do not lie to fae! So, Jareth punished her with the cleaners. This was a little more high stakes in terms of harm, but at the end of the corridor is a readily marked part of the wall which is obviously cut out with a darker arch around the outside and weakened enough for a teenage girl to push against it just enough to knock it over right before the cleaners got there and then there's a ladder taking her to safety away from the tunnels???? There is no way that's accidental – everything in the Labyrinth which challenges Sarah is put there by Jareth, who can manipulate his heart (I think the Labyrinth is a metaphysical representation of his heart – more on this later) – or, his world – to his own wants. He humbled her yet again but also punished her for lying to him (to herself, technically, since this story is hers), and gave her a good scare in the process. Sometimes, we need a good dose of fear, and Sarah clearly wants adventure and some excitement in her life!

The Bog of Eternal Stench – What I find interesting here is that Jareth spoke presumably through one of his crystals to warn Hoggle against throwing away the poisoned peach in a god-like over-seeing manner – this was an overt intervention. But minutes before that, he did nothing to prevent Ludo, Sir Didymus and Hoggle all working together to save Sarah from falling into the Bog when the bridge broke. We know from that exchange with Hoggle and previous scenes that he watches Sarah's progress and he manipulates his world/heart at will to hinder/help her, but in this particular moment when she is actually in danger, and not through his or anyone else's fault, Jareth does nothing to prevent his subjects from helping her. Therefore, he never intends to harm her, and I fully believe that if Ludo hadn't been successful in summoning up the rocks to save Sarah, that a barn owl would have swooped in out of nowhere and stopped her from getting hurt/falling into the Bog. There's a strong branch right above where she falls, and there are enough rocks in the Bog to get Sarah to safety. The world of the Labyrinth is built for Sarah because she's at the core of everything Jareth does and stands for. She has to get to the centre of the Labyrinth because the castle represents the core of Jareth's heart. Why else would he be so proactive the closer she gets, with the threats of danger becoming more real and yet she narrowly avoids harm every time? Jareth's mischief is just enough to scare but never enough to hurt Sarah. This over-seeing intervention in times of danger also happens when she jumps in the Escher room – Jareth gentles her descent so she lands delicately on her feet before he steps out through an alcove, implying that he was watching her and intervened when he needed to so that she wasn't hurt. It's no coincidence that all of her friends are able to help Sarah in some way! Sir Didymus' role is intellectual stimulation, giving Sarah the adult conversation she's craving, challenging her to challenge herself. She rises to the challenge every time, and Jareth's lesson here is that sometimes we just have to ask for help - “well, do I have your permission?” - sometimes things aren't always as they seem, but sometimes they are that simple. Family is loyal to family, which is chosen and not decided – Ludo and Sir Didymus are clearly different species, and yet they decide they are brothers and honour that throughout the rest of the film.

Instances in which he aided her progress through the Labyrinth because his real intention is to help her grow up, to help her become who she is supposed to be:

Had Hoggle stationed at the gate of the Labyrinth as her way in, but also as her first friend; we cannot travel through life or growth alone and a being as lonely as Jareth would know this. I feel like Hoggle represents Sarah's stubbornness & her inability to accept help or friendship when it comes from an honest place. “Hoggle is Hoggle's friend!” // “Hoggle, you coward!” - Sarah frequently says “it's not fair!” and doesn't accept responsibility for her actions, so here Jareth has prepared Hoggle to be Sarah's mirror – holding him up so that Sarah can see the error of her ways by observing her behaviour in someone else and realise why it's wrong. Also - “Who are you?” / “Sarah.” / “That's what I thought.” = Hoggle KNEW that Sarah was coming. The journey through the Labyrinth is one big lesson Jareth constructed, because stories have morals and they're meant to teach us about perspectives and other such things about life. So in a way, Jareth turned the powers he gave Sarah against her.

The worm at the wall who told Sarah how to get through the walls/access the actual Labyrinth instead of running through the outer walls; though, Jareth is a fae and Sarah needs to learn to be less naïve/stop taking things at face value so much, especially from strangers or people she doesn't know very well, so the worm lied about which way to go. Nothing is fair in life and this was Jareth's first little reminder for the important lesson. He said it himself - “You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is.” - which means, all the times he was in the park with her, he never quite figured that out = it's a part of Sarah she needs to work on, because if a silent spectator can't understand something revisited often, then it's likely not a valid viewpoint.

Hoggle frequently tells Sarah that she should give up, stop, turn back, not continue, and every time, Sarah snaps back and says she's not quitting or giving up, she's come too far. This links to my previous point about Hoggle, but here, Hoggle is showing Sarah that she can do something when she wants to, she can be responsible when she needs to be (by this stage of the film, she has accepted the consequences of her actions and has resolved to 'save' her brother from Jareth's very generous babysitting services), and that perseverance and a certain degree of being stubborn is necessary in life. The world doesn't stop when you're tired and Hoggle's role here is to nurture Sarah's resilience. She's already endured so much, “you've run so long, you've run so far” (Within you), and she can endure it better and easier when she has friends/a support network to get through it. Additionally, Sarah and Hoggle are both less resistant to each other's help and friendship as the film progresses – the reflection is completing itself, the mirror isn't needed so much as Sarah grows through the Labyrinth. Jareth has seen her potential through shining moments in Aboveground, and he's trying to help her reach it as best as he can, given he's a figment of her imagination and he knows it. By the end of the film, she's accepting her potential a little more, but isn't quite ready to step into it.

Ludo! His role is to reaffirm that things aren't always what they seem, and to teach Sarah that appearances are deceiving; Ludo is supposed to look scary, but in reality he's a big teddy bear who is resourceful (he uses rocks in times of trouble, or, translated into our world, he does what he can with what he has – an important lesson), afraid of the unknown but willing to venture forth if he has a friend beside him (and this humanises him in Sarah's eyes and makes it easier for her to befriend him), and he's bullied by others for things he can't control (i.e. being strung upside down because he's “a big yeti” and goblins like causing trouble). Ludo's role is to teach Sarah that face value isn't valuable all of the time, and his resourcefulness saves her multiple times. As the King of the Goblins, Jareth knows absolutely anything and everything which goes on in the Underground, and there is no way that he didn't deliberately choose the creatures he did to aid Sarah in her journey. They all fulfil a specific purpose and mirror a part of Sarah back to her so she can change her ways by seeing them in others and realising there's another way. Ludo is a big cuddly teddy bear who gives Sarah a hand to hold, he saves her, he keeps her company, and gives her some comic relief too. He may also be very slight practice for going back home to Toby, like when he gets the door handle stuck in his mouth and Sarah has to help him with it. Jareth here nurtures Sarah's kind nature – she makes friends everywhere she goes and is willing to forgive when Hoggle commits wrongs (abandoning her when they are afraid, giving her a poisoned fruit under the pretense of giving her actual food – which Sarah should have known not to accept, but sometimes we can't see the red flags even when they punch us in the face, and this may have been another lesson from Jareth, or perhaps it was his only way into fulfilling another of his roles; romance.)

This is where things start to fall apart for Jareth. When he says, “friends?” to Hoggle, the bitter undertone in his voice reeks of jealousy. He wants to at least be friends with Sarah, this human whom he's watching grow, but because of the multiple roles and challenges she has written for him to fulfil for her (as a figment of her own imagination, hence why he looks like David Bowie because, in the beginning, we see newspaper clippings of Sarah's mother with David Bowie, so there's a strange Electra-esque situation going on with Jareth looking like Sarah's mother's boyfriend), he's unable to be friends with her. His narrative has him being the villain, the challenger, the threat, the teacher, the nurturer, this all-knowing figure who holds a strange power over her (powers he gave her were then turned onto him and then turned back onto Sarah when she rejects him at the end), the suitor, and, above all else, the life lesson. Nowhere in the narrative she constructed is there room for friendship. He “can't live without her sunlight” (her attention on him), he “can't live without (her) heartbeat” (Within You) because Jareth literally exists within Sarah. He will dessicate inside her, shrivel up within her imagination and become a distant childhood figure as she grows up, while she will flourish and thrive because of everything he did for her when she was younger. And the worst of it is, Jareth is self-aware and he knows this, but he's doomed to do it all anyway because it's his narrative. He is a self-fulfilling prophecy, he's watching his own car crash and he's powerless to stop it because a teenage girl took the powers he gave her and made everything happen between them like it does. He does everything she asks of him, against his better judgement in some cases, and yet she still doesn't accept his love (which, if we follow the metaphor, is actually adulthood as a concept because he's nurturing her – another of his roles) and he's known all along that this doesn't end well for him (“don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, 'cuz it hurts like hell”) but he can't – or won't – try to change it.

The Garbage Lady who leads Sarah into a reproduction of her bedroom to try to trick her into thinking she is home until she opens her bedroom door – Jareth reminds her of what is important – her brother – and 'tests' her by presenting her with all of the material things she values in her bedroom; her childhood slippers and toys, but then she sees the Labyrinth book and she remembers her brother – she chooses reality over fiction and chooses responsibility over fiction, though she still leans into it when it is piled on top of her. Here, Jareth is showing her a balance between the two. They're both important, and they both have their place in helping us to do what we need to.

As The World Falls Down is a scene in which I think, while Jareth is fulfilling the role Sarah has given him as her suitor, he's also being quite vulnerable. Not with her, necessarily, he's teasing her by disappearing into the crowd and he makes her look for him. He makes her chase him, rather than him being the one who is chasing. And then, when he's had his fun, he finds her like he was watching her the entire time and knew exactly where she was and who she was with (notice that when the camera pans, he is always looking at her and barely glances at the other fae who address him in some way). He sweeps her into his arms and they dance. Sarah wanted romance and he was giving her that. In her bedroom at the beginning, Sarah has a ballerina figurine that looks exactly like Sarah does in this ballroom scene, and so parts of the Labyrinth – Sir Didymus' Ambrosius is her dog Merlin, she becomes in this scene that same figurine she has in her bedroom, she has an Escher wall poster in her bedroom, she has a grass maze, she has stuffed animals of the Fire Gang, she has a Hoggle puppet, she physically takes the same lipstick she applies in the beginning into the Labyrinth to guide her way... all these pieces of the Labyrinth which she encounters already exist in her bedroom, adding further evidence to my theory that the Labyrinth and, by extension, Jareth, are all figments of Sarah's imagination, with some added fuckery in that Jareth is the one who gave her the Labyrinth book, which is the source of the powers he gave her.

When they dance, Sarah falls into the illusion, she falls into the romance, but then like in Cinderella and as aforementioned in previous statements, the clock chimes and this shatters the spell, it breaks the dream, and Sarah frees herself. Jareth is visibly distressed, he looks so heartbroken and shattered because he knows no matter what he does, what role he performs for her or how good he does it, no matter what, Sarah is always going to reject him even though she is the one who assigned these roles to Jareth. He is under her spell, powerless to resist against his own powers – powers he gave her! How do you fight yourself? How can he convince Sarah when he only exists within her own mind and worse still, he knows this? He is doomed by his own narrative and it breaks his heart to follow it, but he has no choice. So he exhausts himself, as he states at the end, trying to live up to all the roles Sarah gives him, knowing the entire time that it's futile and he's not going to triumph.

That's not what Sarah wants – she wants a villain, he gave her one. She wanted an escape from a constantly crying baby – he gave her that. She wanted romance, mystery, intrigue, adventure, a good dose of 'safe' fear, friendship, companionship, he gave her all of that. But Sarah cannot give him the one thing Jareth wants – acceptance. Because he exists within her, and being a teenager is too tumultuous a time for Sarah to be able to accept herself, to accept that she needs to grow up and fight to be a better person, and she's not quite ready for that yet. Jareth knows Sarah will fight her way to his heart (the centre of the Labyrinth) and then destroy it – the Escher room dismantles when she jumps, effectively choosing her brother over Jareth. His love for Sarah destroys him, but aids Sarah in becoming someone more mature, wiser, and kinder. When Sarah breaks away from him in this scene and literally shatters the dream he gave her, is when Jareth starts to realise that he's been doomed from the start. Sarah wants pretense, she wants an escape. When Jareth shows her the reality of who he is (or, in the metaphor, the reality of reality), she rejects him, she rejects what it means to be an adult, and thereby chooses to be a child for a little longer. One who is more responsible, sure, but still. Jareth understands this, he knows why it happens the way it does, and though he pleads, the look on his face when he throws the crystal up in the air is ultimately,

“We could have had so much fun together”.

Additionally, there is a deleted scene where Sarah rejects him, but then he smiles right before he throws the crystal into the air. It's a proud smile, which lends support to my theory that he is using the journey through his Labyrinth to teach Sarah, to help her to be a better sister and daughter. She rejects him, and he's heartbroken by it, but he's proud of her too, though he knows he's doomed to just wither away within her. He's a complicated being, so full of grey areas, he's spoilt and ironically as childish as Sarah is, but that's why he's able to fulfil all those roles so well, and apply a mirror between her and the world she explores – self-reflection is, after all, taking a look at oneself, and Jareth has spent so much time with Sarah Aboveground while she rehearses her favourite scenes in Labyrinth that he's come to understand her, though he doesn't agree with everything; and that's why he put this journey into motion.

Another thing I find interesting is how, at the gates of the castle (at the gate of the core of Jareth's heart), is a very menacing scary metal contraption designed to invoke fear and keep people away from getting through the gates. And yet, Hoggle is able to intervene and prevent the attack, and once they're all through the gates, the goblin army don't seem to take it very seriously at all. I have no doubt that, if they needed to, goblins could and would cause serious harm, and yet really they just annihilate themselves and make it very easy for Sarah and her friends to make their way into the castle. This suggests that it's all what's on the surface – they don't treat Sarah like a threat because she isn't one – by this point, Jareth has accepted his own ultimate role is to lose in a love he was written to feel, and he wants her to succeed in running his Labyrinth, he wants her to triumph and become better and learn from him. He wants her to get her brother back, because her brother isn't the point of it all – Jareth only took Toby because Sarah asked him to. The point of it all is for Sarah to grow, to learn how to grow up, to learn to be stronger and kinder and wiser so she can grow up, and that is why Jareth makes it quite easy for her to get through the city into the castle. He only watches from the window, he does nothing to help his goblins or to help Sarah. He just watches from his window, looking down at life happening but doing nothing to stop it.

Once Sarah gets to the castle, it's quiet, still. No more resistance from Jareth, just a final plea to delay the inevitable. “I have to face him alone, that's the way it is done” - here, he is once again a villain, staged for the final confrontation, and Sarah has painted herself as the heroine. Likely because she has little to no control in her real life over anything, so in her head she writes herself to be heroic on adventures, saving other people in a way she wishes she could be saved. In Within You, “your eyes can be so cruel, just as I can be so cruel” - again, he's showing the parallel within them, his first declaration of them as equals, because writers always put a piece of themselves in the stories they write, and Sarah, as Jareth's writer, is no different.

Jareth is so tired in the final scene, all of his masks and roles are discarded, though Sarah still recites from the Labyrinth. Before, Sarah backed away from Jareth, but now he is backing away from her, though he pleads with her to accept him (her dreams, her fiction). The power is now hers, and she knows it. He knows it. The crystal ball turns into a bubble, which breaks at Sarah's touch. Jareth's world shatters, he returns to existing only within her, and Sarah takes away all of the wisdom and lessons and experiences he gave her. I find it interesting how “I need you, all of you” should include Jareth too, but he sits on the outside looking in once again, forced only to watch, and no longer able to participate in her world. The boundaries have changed, Sarah admits she still needs her childhood fantasies and stories to help her with real life, but the narrative she wrote for Jareth is set in stone.

When Sarah's world fell down, Jareth caught her (the comfort of fiction) but when his world implodes, no one is there to break his fall.

Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, because it hurts like hell...

[mintjuliee]

Lin and Suyin - On Why Sometimes Love Means Saying "No"

In cases where you are raising a child, caring about them can often mean saying "no" or presenting as the opposition. This is particularly true when the child in question is displaying harmful behaviors.

The most blatant example of this between the Beifong sisters is the flashback in Old Wounds, wherein you see Suyin skipping school with a couple of other kids— a bag of items that they have likely stolen spilling over on a coffee table.

Teenage Lin confronts Suyin with a blatant look of disproval. Her inquires are met with:

"Oh no, are you going to tell mom? It's not like she is going to care."

ERRRT. Back up. What is really going on here?

A cry for attention.

It is not normal for a twelve year-old child to say that their mom is not going to care about them engaging in dangerous behaviors. I would even argue that the most important sentiment behind that statement is "she isn't going to care."

And what we see in the next flashback a few years later proves that Suyin was and is, in fact, testing the waters. She is now driving a getaway vehicle after a robbery. Her behavior is doomed to escalate, because it is not being met with any parental opposition.

How far can I take it? When will it matter?

This is the part where a parent should be stepping in to intervene. They should be trying to figure out what is lacking in the child's life or what they are seeking. However, what we witness instead is that this burden/role has fallen to Lin.

Mind you, in the first flashback Lin herself is a teenager. She lacks the experience or maturity to be dealing with a child displaying these behaviors, which is shown when she escalates the situation by insulting the two boys. And yet, she still tells Suyin :

"Su stop. You have so much potential. You're ruining your life."

In the second flashback, her words are:

"I'm not letting you get away with this." "So, once again, Su gets to do whatever she wants, and there are no consequences."

Lin is acting as a psuedo-parent in the absence of Toph. She cares about her younger sister and is attempting to show this by drawing a line. Suyin is lashing out against Lin like she would an authority figure.

Toph in this situation, I believe, would not be that concerned with Suyin's behavior, because she herself engaged in rebellious behavior as a kid. The key difference— and what I think Toph failed to realize in raising Suyin— is that she herself grew up with extremely strict parents from the get go. In Toph's case, breaking away from them and finding her independence was key to her growth. It was a good thing.

This is completely different from a kid being raised and allowed to do what they want from the beginning like Suyin. The lack of parental guidance and attention as a foundation produced an entirely different issue than what Toph faced.

"We didn't have a normal childhood. Neither of us knew our fathers, and Toph was always busy being Chief of Police. Because mom grew up in such a strict house, she gave us all the freedom in the world, hoping we'd figure out our own paths."

"That sounds like a good thing."

"And in a way, it was. But we both ended up fighting for mom's attention. Lin followed in her footsteps and became a cop. I was more of a rebel."

Bingo. Here we have Suyin admitting her rebellious behavior was attention-seeking towards her mom. Unfortunately, due to Toph being often absent due to her job, it would seem this behavior often went most noticed by Lin.

An older/younger sibling tale as old as time.

Lin and Suyin were both acting in accordance with the hands they were dealt. They were young. Mistakes were made. Lin should never have had to act as an opposition to her sister's behavior as a teenager; she should have been able to act like a kid herself. Suyin should not have been left to her own devices to the point where she is acting out to seek attention.

So, what do we arrive at? Compelling backstory for two middle-aged women, who present as awesome, strong characters 😎 Something rare in media, animation being more scarce. I love them so much. Almost as much as they love each other.

[adisillusionedauthor]

Could you do fic for Checo with wife reader where she's Max's older sister and she just worried for them because of how the races could turned badly in a matter of second? Add something you'd like though. Thanks! :)

Fearful Velocity - Sergio Pérez and Max Verstappen

Requested by: Anon

Masterlist<3

Pairing: Checo x spouse!GN!reader, Max x Sibling!reader

Warning: OOC Checo, OOC Max, fluff, sweet, concern about loved ones, Max being a sweetie, Checo being a sweetie and bad english

Word count: 713

The team always tries to make everything very comfortable for me when I go see the races in person, being the married and related to their drivers I get some sort of princess treatment, but it somehow doesn’t help the aching feeling that something is going to happen, I shake the thought off of my head once i realize Checo is walking towards me, I start to smile at him opening my arms for him, hoping he’d hug me. 

Of course he obliges and pulls me into a tight hug, since I’m sitting down my head rests comfortably on his chest and he rests his on top of my head, not before giving the top of head a kiss: “You’ve got that look on your face…” He says into my hair softly, I let out a sigh, nothing happens to me without this man noticing: “Is it the usual?” He asks with a knowing look on his face, I’ve shared my concerns with him, even asked him to retire once Sebastian said he’d be leaving F1, but it didn’t work, he wants to race longer; “Yup… It’s like this every weekend that there’s a race, but this time… It feels different, like something is going to happen…” I say, sharing this strange feeling makes my chest somehow feel lighter, Sergio pulls me even closer if that’s even possible, but before he could say something we could hear my younger brother’s voice saying “Ew!” from behind him, Checo turns with an more serious look which makes Max realize I’m worrying over them again.

He comes hug me for a while on Checo’s place while he goes get ready for today, Max keeps telling me that serious accidents barely ever happen, that there’s no need for me to get so stressed over this, today is supposed to be a day where I can take a breath and see my boys enjoy themselves on the track and he’s right, it feels weird even thinking about this: “I’m sorry for worrying so much, it’s just… I still see you as that boy who still raced in a kart, it’s weird seeing the little boy I held in my arms accomplish so much… I’m proud of you Max, truly proud” I say smiling at him proudly, in my heart he’ll always that baby my parents brought home when I was still two, he’ll always be my little brother, no matter how many championships he wins or how many podiums he gets: “Don’t you dare say stuff that’ll make me tear up right before a race, I can’t cry now, Y/N” He says while his eyes get glossy with tears, i hug him even closer and then Checo comes back to get Max to get ready for the race: “So… Feeling better about today, mi amor?” He knows that nickname is my doom, I melt into his arms as his fingers run into my hair soothing me even more: “You’re a very unfair man, Mr. Pérez…” I say resting my head onto his shoulder and he laughs gently: “Oh really? Or maybe I just know exactly what I need to do to calm my wife, Mrs. Pérez.”

I blush softly at his words, I’ve been his wife for four years, but everytime he calls me that I feel like I did on our first date, my smile turns even more soft and I answer him: “Maybe… But just maybe, you’ve helped a lot, darling” He smiles back at me happy that he could help me feel a little more safe about him and my brother racing, he gives me three kissed like he always does when he’s about to go race, one on  my forehead promising to keep me on his mind during the race, one on my cheek promising to never let me go and finally one on my lips promising to always love me, I kiss him back showing just as much love as he is into the kiss, when Max comes to call him so they can enter the car and go to the line up, I don’t feel as anxious as I did on the beginning of the day, because I know that they’ll both be okay and if something does happen they’ll have me to take care of them and nurse them back into healthiness just so i can scold them. 

[e3rt]

concrete rendition of Liu please 🙇‍♂️

I’m so late to this but LIU!!! After 7 years incarcerated Liu was finally free at 25. Having no farm to go home to, never finishing highschool all he had was his little work experience in prison. Very few places would take on an ex criminal but luckily his time in prison let him develop some…new skills. One which his pen pall took GREAT interest in.

His notoriety around town meant it was time to hit the road and with the help of this avid writer he did. That beat up commodore was all they needed to get out of dodge. If only Liu knew what his brother had been up to in his absence.

————

Yeah this the design! Here’s some extra information;

- In this rewrite, Liu’s “pen pall” is actually Sully. Liu developed him in prison to cope with the loss of his family. It’s like a fight club situation, an alter ego to keep Liu on track and stay alive.

- he stole the car 🥴

- he’s the older brother

-he assumed in his mad spiral he killed Jeff, assuming he was replaced by something other and would’ve killed him if he hadn’t.

- when he finally reunites with Jeff, he witnesses his familiar cruelty which convinces him there’s still his brother in that zombified body.

-Liu’s convinced that if he kills the slenderman that his brother will be returned to normal(since the slender sickness is what’s keeping him alive). And it will atone him for how he treated Jeff after the fire incident.

-if he succeeds though it will just kill Jeff and any proxy

- this is what causes the major conflict between the two, and also strengthens the hold the Slenderman has over Jeff.

- the Slenderman can’t penetrate the mind or EITHER brother, which is new for it and highly frustrating so it has to use circumstances to maintain control

- Liu is the only thing that scares Toby, even though he knows Liu can’t really kill him under the Slendermans domain

- he recreationally set fire all the time growing up like it was actually a problem

- Liu now has pyrophobia even though Jeff doesn’t lol

-his Eastern European inflections are stronger than Jeff’s since he spent more time with his parents working on the farm than the younger did

- he’s straight(sorry) and doesn’t really get along with men in general. The only “friend” he really has was his brother growing up, and can’t develop bonds with anyone he’s not attracted to

- he picks up a small cat on the road(not smiley cat I just don’t see him as a dog person). The cats orange but he names it Silver after his favourite horse growing up

- he’s the shorter brother(doomed to older sibling being the shortest)

- been weight lifting since his early teens

- terrified of ghosts

[rivilu]

i meant it when i said quick btw, consider the poll closed, here they are:

quick! in the (more) fucked up and evil timeline where a durge joins the party,

[bg-brainrot]

Alone in a Crowded Camp

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: A short Astarion reflection, where he realizes that company isn't so bad.

Tags: Astarion POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings

A/N: My ~mood~ persists and I wanted to make this real angsty, but even I couldn’t do that to myself hah. A short little oneshot to try to get me out of my funk!

Word count: ~1.1k

Alone.

Astarion has gotten quite good at being alone.

For two hundred years, he's been surrounded by people– their faces, their bodies, their sickly sweet words and insincere affections. But all along, he has been deeply, achingly alone.

He's had his siblings, ugh, if that's what you could call them. They’ve been a constant, annoying, and at times cruel presence in his life. They’ve felt like a growth he could no more remove than he could ignore. And, through the misery and the pain, he somehow still managed to feel gods awfully alone.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the source of his loneliness. After all, he has nary a moment to himself. But no matter how many people, no matter how frequently he’s with them, something is missing. There is no connection, no kindness, no caring. He simply is alone.

As such, Astarion has grown downright skilled at solitude. A practical art form, he's certain– someone else may call it a method of coping. Either way, it’s not a skill he's comfortable to admit.

Especially not when he suddenly finds himself surrounded once more, veritably drowning in the same disgusting familiarity and the startling newness of companionship. Because this time, he's free. Or as free of Cazador as he's willing to believe for the moment. And his companions don't expect much from him. At least not more than he's willing to provide.

So when he settles into the motley crew, he’s prepared to face the same discordant discomfort of isolation, all while being a hair’s breadth from falling into someone’s bedroll.

Instead, what he finds is an unconventional, at times chaotic, symphony.

The loud sheering sound of weapons being sharpened.

The heat of bodies surrounding a late night campfire.

The beautiful, desperate joy on the faces of those who may not live to see another day.

Astarion soon discovers that, despite the dirt, despite the tentacled doom lingering over his gorgeous head of curls, the boisterous mundanity of daily life is oddly… welcome.

For so long, as long as he can remember honestly, he’d dreaded meeting someone new. Meeting someone new meant as much a death sentence for them as it meant a detestable evening for him, a night lost to his inevitable withdrawal into the deepest darkness he could muster. 

But here, in the warm glow of firelight, the darkness abates. 

Against all of his efforts, he actually learns about the group.

How Lae’zel single-handedly took on her entire crèche while training, how many rooms Gale’s tower boasts back in Waterdeep, how far Wyll’s travels have taken him along the Chionthar, how Shadowheart didn’t need her memories to remember she hated bad wine, how Karlach once defeated a Pit Fiend in the hells themselves. None of them are things he expected to learn, nor care about. But he finds himself listening, chortling along all the same.

And then there’s you.

At first, he’d kept you a careful arm and knife distance away– an asset surely, but just as surely a dangerous one. He’d learned early in his time with Cazador that anyone who could wield both blade and charm was not someone to be trifled with.

What he hadn’t expected was the way that you made him feel: Distinctly not-alone.

Whether it be catching the mischievous twinkle in your eye from across the room or finding himself wrapped in your arms, feeling your body heat slowly seeping into him– he simply can’t understand how you make the world feel so full.

Astarion isn’t sure if he loves this new feeling of overwhelming closeness or misses the solitude. He wonders if he’ll ever feel alone again, and the idea that he may not both thrills and terrifies him.

Because there is something soothing about being alone, a type of insidious succor only his own thoughts provide.

The ache loneliness has carved in his chest is as lingering as it is deeply rooted within him and, like a plant desperately trying to survive, he finds the roots digging deeper and deeper in an attempt to stay grounded.

His moments of actual time to himself have been scarce, of course. So, in his fear, Astarion has gotten used to finding his solitude among the chaos, sequestering himself away from any who might hurt him before such a chance could arise.

Retreating from their kindness, reciprocating with sharply worded barbs, shooting utterly underserved glares in every direction. Their wounded looks mean nothing to him– why should they? They are just another group of strangers, one vampire lord away from becoming another pile of corpses.

However, much like every other of his carefully thought out plans, you are ready to thwart him. For every attempt he makes to withdraw, you’re right there, proving time and again that you are no stranger. Not anymore.

“Astarion.”

It’s a simple thing, his name. The last remnant from a mother he no longer remembers. It sounded wretched upon Cazador’s lips, a curse he could never break. Upon yours though? It may as well be a blessing. 

With that one, simple name, his loneliness is allayed. The roots embedded within him pull back, if only for the moment.

Despite his best efforts, he remembers that he is not alone. Astarion feels at ease.

His heart opens, little by little, and not just to you.

Living hundreds of years as he has, faces had begun to meld together, names began to lose their meaning, voices their distinct candor. But for the first time in a long, long time, he finds himself seeing, listening, connecting to others in a way he no longer believed himself capable of.

It’s… nice. Not that he’ll ever tell the others.

Naturally, his past doesn’t simply up and vanish. His mind still drifts, and he finds himself retreating into the damning safety of solitude from time to time. But each and every time, a hand reaches out– at times jovial, sometimes tentative, other times caring– ready to pull him back to the present.

“Astarion?”

One such hand comes into his field of view, and he takes it instinctively. It’s warm, comforting, and scarred with the beautiful history of an adventurous past. He could get lost in the look and feel of this hand.

“Astarion? Are you alright?”

Your voice is soft, tone gently questioning– yet still worried. Adorable, but you needn’t worry about him. He doubts he’s ever been better.

“Mmm, yes, darling. Quite alright.”

“Good.” 

Your hand squeezes his as you respond and he’s certain that, as long as you’re next to him, he may never feel alone again. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing after all.