#never shall question the signature

[maryvioletique7708]

She’s soooo my attitude 🖤⛓️🔪✨

[alastor-simp]

Sickly Deer - Sick Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary - Alastor is a very proud man, and he will almost never admit that something is wrong. However, you noticed he seemed a bit off today and wanted to know what was wrong?

❥Tags: Sick alastor, sick day, alastor becomes sick, female reader, reader takes care of a sick alastor, stubborn alastor, fluff , adorable fluff, taking care of someone sick

❥Notes: Always wanted to do a sick character story and I finally get to do one with Alastor.

Was a quiet day in the hotel today. Usually there was the occasional chaos, but surprisingly it was peaceful. Charlie and Vaggie were out shopping for groceries for the hotel. Angel was lounging in his room, relaxing with Fat Nuggets. Niffty was reading a book, most likely manga in the lounge room, with Husk taking a cat nap on the couch next to her. Sir Pentious was in his ship, crafting some devices with his egg bois.

You were lounging in the hotel library, enjoying some quiet time to yourself while reading. Well it was quiet for a second until you heard the sound of static-like cough coming from next to you. Alastor happened to be in the library as well, reading his weekly newspaper. He's usually very quiet when he reads, except with the occasional sound of humming or static. But this was new, as you almost never heard him cough or let alone sneeze for that matter. The coughing started slow, but then it kept getting rougher as he kept doing it, causing you to worry. "Hey Al?" Your eyes were gazing at him with concern. Alastor turned his head towards you, wearing his signature smile: “Yes? What is it my dear?” “Well, are you alright? I noticed you have been coughing a lot. Once you said that, Alastor let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh-ho! It is nothing my dear. Just a small tickle. Nothing to concern yourself with!” He waved his hand in the air, after he finished talking. You still felt unsure, but if he said it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t question him.

How wrong you were, the more and more you saw Al throughout the day, the worse his cough got. Not only that, his face was slightly paler and a bit drenched with sweat. He still was acting like everything was alright, but you knew he was lying. Enough was enough. You caught up with Alastor, as he was walking down the hallway. “Alastor! Stop!” You yelled his name out. He stopped in front of you, and slowly turned around, head tilted in confusion. “You’re sick, aren’t you” Alastors face stayed neutral when you said that, but you knew you got him. “I told you already, my dear. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Alastor just smiled wider and turned away from you to continue walking. He was stopped again when he felt a hand grab one of his coat sleeves. His body grew tense and he turned back eerily, not appreciating you touching him. You gave him a strong look: “Well, I AM concerned. And you should be resting cause you’re only going to make it worse.” His garnet colored eyes locked on to yours, static in the air getting louder. “I am the radio demon, my dear. I do not get sick, so please remove your hand, n̸͚͇̏̉o̸̼̓ẇ̷̹̓.” His eyes flashed into radio dials for a split second, causing you to remove your hand from his sleeve quickly. “Thank you. Now then, I shall take my leave.” He turned back around and began to walk away from you. As you were watching him walk away, you noticed he drew to a stop again. His body was still up, but then he began to fall forward. “AL!”

**Alastor POV**

“Ugh….huh?” Alastors eyes opened slowly. He recognized he was in his hotel room as the ceiling was covered in grassy moss and leaves, as he was the one to change it due to his magic. He soon realized he was laying on his bed, wearing his pajamas as he slowly got up from lying down. He doesn’t recall heading back to his room, as his head was still a bit fuzzy. His head was throbbing and his throat was feeling sore. Alastor knew he was feeling sickly, but he refused to believe it. He hates to be perceived as weak, so he preferred to play it off that he was fine.

The sound of the door opening alerted him, causing him to look up. He sees you walking into his room, carrying a tray along with a plastic bag hanging from your arms. “Oh your awake? How are you feeling?” You bear a smile at him, as you walk closer to his bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. “How did I end up here?” Alastor questioned you, still confused at what happened. “You don’t remember?” Your eyes gazed at him back with concern. Alastor shook his head. “You fainted Al. I stopped you in the hallway cause I knew you were sick, but you said you were fine and as you walked away, you stopped and fell forward.” Al’s eyes widen at your statement, as he kept listening to you talk. “I carried you back to your room after that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I see. I’m sorry for the trouble you had to go through my dear, but I’m quite alright now.” Pulling the covers off, Al swung his feet to place them in the floor. He was stopped by a hand on his chest. “Oh no you don’t mister. You are staying in bed and getting better. Understand?” Your eyes were filled with determination. “My dear, I am qui-” “Understand?” His words were cut off by you. He continued to look at your face, seeing that you were refusing to budge. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his head. He positioned himself back to how he was on the bed. “Does anyone else know about my ailment?" He said, as you turned his head to look at you. You were removing some stuff out of the plastic bag and set them on the night stand before turning back to him. "The only ones who know are me and Niffty. No one else, I promise you. I had to tell her you were under the weather, and she told me to head to the store to get you some medicine while she made you some venison stew." Alastor continued to listen until he asked you another question: "Did you change me into my pajamas as well?" Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head no. "Your shadow happened to appear when I brought you to the bed. I told it to change you." Alastor just nodded his head at that, smiling at bit wider at your adorable reaction.

Grabbing one of the chairs from Al's desk, you brought it over to where his bed was and took a seat. Reaching for the bowl, you placed it on your lap. He observed you blow a bit on the spoon and hold it out to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. "Come on Al. There's nothing wrong with me feeding you." Alastor sighed, and opened his mouth, allowing you to give him some of the stew that Niffty prepared. He was able to finish it all off, which pleased you. Placing the bowl back, you grabbed the medicine and a glass of water and handed it to him. Alastor grabbed it and quickly popped them in his mouth, chugging the water to get them down. Sighing, he laid back on the bed, placing his head on the pillow, turning it away from you. "I despise this feeling." He whispered that to himself, but you were able to pick up on it since you were still seated next to him. "What feeling?" you said back to him, tiling your head. "Alastor continued to look away. "The feeling of being sick. Makes me appear weak." Alastor grumbled out the response.

Alastor remained quiet after that. A hand was placed against his cheek, allowing his head to turn back towards you. His eyes widen at you, as he saw you wearing a kind smile. "You're not weak Alastor. Everyone gets sick from time to time, nothing wrong with it. Also, you should know the others would never think about that, they would rather you get some rest and get better." Your thumb stroked his cheek. Alastor listened to what you said and gave a sigh, closing his eyes. "I know, my dear. Just.....feels strange." Moving his hand, he placed it against the one on his cheek. "Thank you, my dear. If there comes a time where you are ailing, I will return the favor." His lips curved into a soft smile. He heard you chuckle, as your hand moved away from his cheek. "Get some rest, Al. I'll come back to check on you." Smiling, you got up from the chair, and grabbed the tray, heading over to the door. Alastor just watched you walk away, leaving his room, and closing the door. His eyes began to grow heavy, as his body started to relax, drifting into a deep sleep.

TAG LIST:

Tag List:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 , @mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow , @madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel , @ainsliemac , @sweet06tart , @nobuharashinyao , @aria-tempest , @fluffismystaplefood , @darischerry , @nightmarenaya , @mooniee123 , @yakultt-art , @ktssstuff , @blakedbeanss , @sweet06tart , @ihyperfixatedagain , @alastorssimp , @sadnessiscoldtea , @artemisandhunters , @crystalreads , @thereeallink

[its-avalon-08]

could you do a schumacher!daughter reader fic pretty please😇 somethin g soft and sweet

anon you read my mind <3

little schumi (ms7!daughter)

(p.s. i showed by father this gif and he has tears in his eyes, side note: my dad loves michael schumacher)

The familiar scent of burnt rubber and ozone hung heavy in the air as Y/N Schumacher navigated the bustling Formula One paddock. Unlike her brother Mick, who was gearing up for qualifying, Y/N never felt the pull of the racetrack. Instead, she gravitated towards the human stories that unfolded around it.

A gruff but gentle hand landed on her shoulder. "There you are, little Schumi," boomed a voice that could only belong to Kimi Raikkonen. Y/N grinned, returning the signature Kimi side-eye. "Kimi! Did you see Valtteri's new helmet design? It's outrageous!"

Kimi snorted. "Looks like a flock of angry parrots attacked it." They shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie a testament to the years Y/N had spent soaking up the paddock atmosphere. Every driver, engineer, and mechanic knew her, a familiar smile in a world of high-octane adrenaline.

Fernando Alonso, a close friend of her father's, spotted them and sauntered over. "How's my favorite Schumi doing today?" he asked, ruffling her hair. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a qualifying session to win, Fernando?"

"Practice makes perfect, but spending time with you is always a priority, pequena," he winked. Y/N knew the playful banter was a way to deflect from the unspoken. Her father's condition was a shadow that loomed over the entire F1 family.

Just then, a young reporter, all bright eyes and eager questions, approached Y/N. "Ms. Schumacher, a few words for Sky Sports? Can you share your thoughts on your father's health?"

Y/N's smile faltered. Everyone knew this was a touchy subject. Sebastian Vettel, who was just passing by, overheard and stepped in. "Let's leave Y/N out of this, shall we?" he said, his voice firm but kind. "She doesn't owe you a public statement."

The reporter looked flustered. "But sir, it's a question everyone wants answered." Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And everyone will have to understand that some things are private, especially when it comes to family." He offered Y/N a reassuring smile. "Come on, Y/N, let's grab some coffee before the chaos starts."

Grateful, Y/N linked arms with Sebastian. The paddock might be a competitive arena, but the drivers, the ones who understood pressure and risk, formed their own kind of family. They understood her silence, her need for normalcy in a world obsessed with speed.

As they walked, Y/N overheard snippets of conversations. "Poor Y/N," someone murmured. "She must be going through hell." Another voice added, "Leave her alone, haven't they been through enough?" Y/N offered a small, sad smile. It hurt, but it also warmed her heart. Her father, with his quiet strength and unwavering determination, had built a legacy that transcended wins and podium finishes. He had inspired loyalty, respect, and a fierce protectiveness that extended to his daughter, even in this fast-paced, unforgiving world.

Reaching the small coffee shop tucked away in the paddock, Y/N settled into a booth with Sebastian. "Thanks, Seb," she said, her voice soft.

Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, your dad would be proud of you. The way you handle yourself, your kindness… it's something special."

Y/N smiled, tears pricking her eyes. Maybe she wouldn't be on the racetrack, but here, in the heart of the paddock, amongst the roar of engines and the smell of racing fuel, she felt a part of her father's legacy.

time skip

The post-race debrief was abuzz with post-adrenaline chatter. Y/N, perched on the edge of Lando Norris' chair, listened with a half-ear as he recounted his epic battle with Daniel Ricciardo on the final lap. They may be from different teams, but their young love story was a paddock favorite.

"…and then I went for the undercut, and bam! Second place!" Lando finished, a triumphant grin splitting his face. Y/N leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Amazing job, my champion," she whispered, earning a playful swat on the arm.

Suddenly, Charles Leclerc burst through the door, his phone held aloft. "Did you guys see this?!" he exclaimed, brandishing a news article. Max Verstappen, who was sprawled on the couch next to Lewis Hamilton, snatched the phone. "What is it, Charles?"

Max's eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the article. "Seriously?" he growled, throwing the phone onto the coffee table. Y/N's heart lurched. It couldn't be good.

Lewis picked it up and read aloud, his voice heavy with disapproval. "'Mick Schumacher: A shadow of his father's talent?' This is ridiculous!"

Y/N's blood boiled. How dare they criticize her brother, especially so harshly? She felt tears prickling her eyes, her fists clenching. Before she could react further, Lando was by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let them get to you. Mick's a phenomenal driver, everyone knows that."

Carlos Sainz, ever the comedian, piped up from across the room. "Besides, who needs talent when you have good looks like Mick, right?" he winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Y/N forced a smile, her anger slowly simmering down. She knew they were trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated their support. "Thanks, guys," she sniffled. "It just… it's frustrating."

Lewis, his calm demeanor ever-present, spoke up. "Let the results speak for themselves, Y/N. Mick's still young, and he's already proving himself. This kind of trash talk doesn't deserve your attention."

Max, still fuming, grabbed the phone again and typed furiously. "There," he declared, showing the screen to the rest of them. "I just tweeted my support for Mick. Let's see how those journalists like that."

Y/N let out a laugh, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. These weren't just her teammates, they were her family, her chosen tribe. They understood the pressure, the scrutiny, and the unwavering loyalty that bound them together. They wouldn't let some random article bring her down.

Lando nudged her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you know who the real untalented one is," he whispered, leaning in close.

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

Lando winked. "The one who keeps losing to me on the simulator, obviously."

Their playful banter erupted into laughter, the tension completely forgotten. Surrounded by her closest friends, Y/N knew that no matter what the headlines said, she had her own championship team, one that valued love, support, and a good dose of healthy teasing.

time skip

The air crackled with a bittersweet energy as the F1 paddock celebrated Michael Schumacher's birthday. Banners emblazoned with his iconic number 7 adorned the pit lanes, and mechanics sported specially designed caps. Yet, beneath the celebratory facade, a current of unspoken grief hummed.

Mick and Y/N Schumacher stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against the tide of emotions. Their gazes were fixed on a freshly painted mural across the track. It depicted Michael, mid-race, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of red. The artwork was a poignant reminder of the man they missed terribly.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper.

Mick nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "They captured him perfectly." A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick spoke, his voice gruff. "It hurts, doesn't it? Seeing him… but not really."

Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. "It's the worst kind of absence, Mick. We know he's there, but…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mick pulled her into a side hug, his protective aura a familiar comfort. "I know, Y/N. I know. But you're not alone. We have each other, and we have Mom. We'll get through this, together."

Y/N leaned into her brother's embrace, finding solace in his strength. "I know," she murmured. "It's just… I miss him telling me bad jokes after qualifying."

A choked laugh escaped Mick. "Yeah, those were the worst." He paused, then added, "But he still loved them, didn't he?"

Y/N chuckled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "He did. He loved seeing us laugh."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the paddock noises a distant hum. Y/N looked up at the mural, a flicker of determination replacing the sadness in her eyes. "We'll make him proud, Mick. Both of us."

Mick met her gaze, his blue eyes mirroring her resolve. "We will. We owe him that."

A hand landed on Mick's shoulder. Sebastian Vettel stood beside them, his expression solemn. "He is proud of you both," he said softly. "Every single day."

Y/N and Mick exchanged a grateful smile. In that moment, surrounded by the people who knew their father best, they felt a surge of strength. Michael Schumacher's absence might leave an aching void, but his legacy, his love, and the unwavering support of their F1 family would forever keep his spirit alive.

[shomixremix]

I miss Kaveh sm :(( so can i req kaveh with a reader who is inexperienced and is too nervous to ask something during their session?? (Bonus points if reader gets flustered easily)

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE ♡︎

this is my first ever reqs, i'm so excited!! thank you anon <33 i haven't yet met kaveh in game (i swear i explored fontaine and sumeru i just never got around to doing his story quest, or maybe i just didn't really notice him in the archon quest??), but all the more reason to do it!! he's such a cutie, i love him (and his relationship with alhaitham👀) so muchh

tags: kaveh, female! reader, smut, loss of virginity, first time, teasing

-> your first time with kaveh, who knows very well how flustered he makes you, and uses that to his advantage ♡︎

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

he had planned this for so long, and now it was finally happening. kaveh was going to fuck you.

he knew just how badly you wanted this - and how badly you couldn't say it. his sweet girlfriend, although the pride and joy of the akademiya, was always so sweet, so deliciously flustered and shy. you couldn't just voice your needs to him!

but kaveh wasn't dumb, in fact, it was quite the opposite. he very well noticed how you would squirm on his lap when the two of you would make out in his studio, how you'd softly sigh whenever his hands would accidentally brush your more sensitive spots, how you'd fiddle with your fingers nervously when you ask him for something so chaste and simple as a small kiss.

so, he took the matters into his own hands.

he basically bribed al haitham to get lost for a few hours, and have the place all to himself. the scribe very much so obliged, not very keen on hearing what goes on in kaveh's bedroom.

it wasn't as if you were uncomfortable under the blonde; he was your boyfriend, after all! even your vast vocabulary didn't have a word quite perfect enough to describe how you felt under him - flustered, perhaps?

"what's wrong, love?" he chirped as he kissed you, his chest discarded of the signature white shirt and his sunshine strands ruffled. his figure isn't particularly large and he is quite a lean man, yet you still felt quite intimidated as you were laid on his soft covers under him, your head nestled on the pillow against the headboard.

"n-nothing, kaveh, i just.." you just wanted more. more kisses, more touches, more love, more of him. all of him. yet, it felt too embarrassing to ask.

"you just, what?" he asks sweetly, a smug smile on his face. he knew exactly what you wanted, yet he very much enjoyed teasing the life out of you.

you mumble something into your chin, lowering your gaze and hiding your flushed face in his shoulder. the architect chuckles, kissing the tip of your ear softly.

"i cannot believe akademiya's most prized researcher is too nervous to ask her boyfriend for something..." he breathes out a soft laugh, "go on, baby. you know i'll do anything you ask. it's okay, y/n, it's just me"

just him? just the most handsome, most adorable, most butterfly-inducing scholar you've ever met?

"i.. um.." you stutter all over your words as you try to voice your wishes. "could you..?"

"i could most certainly" he grins widely, one hand soothing your side. "but i must say, i'm not quite sure what you mean, baby"

oh, how mean he was being, making you say all you wanted when he knew how embarrassed and shy you were!

only in his briefs, the architect slowly parts your soft thighs and nestles himself in between them, his growing erection coming in contact with your wettened panties.

"is this what you want, my love, heh? do you want me to take you? is that what you're trying to ask for, y/n?"

your face turns 50 shades darker and your voice seems to stop working as he asks such a lewd and suggestive question. the tips of your ears and your chest are burning with your blush, hot blood running straight to your head. you cover your face with your palms in an attempt to hide yourself from his very amused gaze.

you were a dignified researcher, someone known to not get lost in emotion and use their head to make logical conclusions to your studies. you have always been praised for your natural leadership skills, never being too proud or too shy to voice anything your research needed.

kaveh seemed to completely destroy all of that, reducing you to a blushing, flustered mess under him.

he didn't yet push your pretty, green panties aside and sink into you, and you were already flustered beyond belief!

"i.. i have never done this, before.." you admit, afraid your inexperience will turn the blonde away. instead, kaveh smiles softly, continuing to very slowly and very carefully grind onto you.

"heh, not a problem, love. i'll show you, hm? you just need to trust me and tell me what feels good. can you do that?"

you bite your lip to suppress a moan, nodding slowly.

one of his hands travels down your body, touching you as if you were made of the finest silk, finally slipping between your legs and coming in contact with the little piece of underwear you wore. he began to slowly rub circles on you through the panties, making shivers run down your back.

"mmph, kaveh.." a groan left your lips as he slowly teased you, his clothed member still snuggly placed between your plushy tighs.

"what do you want, love?"

your cheeks heat up to what seems to compare to the fires of natlan, your words betraying you. you can't help but nuzzle your face in his chest as he continues to rub all the right places, teasing you softly.

"kaveh, baby, please"

you beg for the slow and torturious ritual to finally be over, but deep in your heart you know it won't be - not until you tell him what you desire.

"please what, love? you need to tell me what you'd like so i can give it to you"

no words leave your mouth, too flustered to even speak. his hot gaze and even hotter touches and archons, his pretty face - it was all too much for you. entirely and utterly too much.

"don't be embarassed, baby. i just want to hear you say what you need. i promise i won't tease you more, i just want you comfortable" he reassures oh so sweetly, pressing a slight kiss to your forehead.

"want you, kaveh.." you slowly and very hesitantly say, "want you inside"

it's like a switch has been flipped in him, immediately descarding you off your underwear and leaving your pretty folds bare. his underwear is next, and soon, his tip is pressing into your wanting opening.

you moan out from the pleasure as he slowly thrusts, making sure to keep his pace slow and warm at first.

"mh, faster, please.." you softly beg into his ear, afraid that you'll get far to embarassed if you say those words any louder. however, kaveh chooses not to torture you and obeys your wish with a moan of his own.

unlike you, he's very vocal in bed, a complete stranger to shame.

"ahh, shit, love! feels so good, feels heavenly! you are, you are heaven sent, you know that, love? mhh, baby, so good!" he whines almost as his pace quickens, bringing a hand down to your sweet bundle of nerves.

"tell me what you need, y/n.. fuck, baby, ask for what you need!" he almost begs you to say those words, his crimson eyes full of desperation.

"i.. i need to come-! please, kaveh!" the moan you give him is a bit louder, experimenting how the words feel on your tounge. strangely, it isn't so shameful to ask something of him any longer.

he gives you what you need, blabbing and ranting through his own mutters and moans about how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how good you feel around him. soon, he's reaching his own high, almost not being able to pull out in time as his head fills with pure euphoria.

as you two cuddle after, you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and softly breathe: "kaveh?"

"yes, love?"

"could you next time.. do it in me?"

those words hit him like a pan across his head (and trust me, he knows what that feels like - he lives with al haitham, after all), as his dick almost instantly gets hard again. he pounces on top of you, a soft glimmer of lust in his eyes.

"your wish is my command"

[copinghex]

Behind the curtains | T.S

Summary: You, who once dreamed of being an actress, find out Tommy wasn't supportive as you thought he was | dark!AU

A/N: In dark!Tommy we (should not) trust.

The street was bustling far too much for a Thursday evening. With the sunset near, the cold breeze brought a shiver under your delicate shawl, a gift from Tommy, the pattern gave you a soft yet elegant look, just like every clothing he provided.

Inside Small Heath's church, everything could be heard, a tiny ginger woman thanked the priest in the confessional and walked away, her heels against the wood floors echoed in the whole building. Outside, cars drove by the street and groups marched on the sidewalk.

The few remaining sun rays shone through the stained glasses, painting colored shapes on the walls. At the altar, the candles burned warm orangish on the hem of Mother Mary's veil.

Your heart stung, tears threatening to run down your face, not even the sacred place served some relief, perhaps only going back in time would, back before you ever rented a room on Watery Lane.

“Alone for once, Mrs. Shelby?” the priest asked.

“I'm never alone, father, not for long,”

“Well,” the old man smiled in pity, “would you like to confess?”

“No, I just-” few tears ran down which you quickly brushed off, “I thought I was marrying a sinner, but I guess I married the devil himself,”

“These are strong words, some sins might be worse than others, nonetheless are all sins, worthy of forgiveness for those who regret,” he reprimanded, “is it alright if I leave you alone? I promised to visit a sick child,”

You nodded and he left, it was the first time you were alone in a long while. Tapping your feet on the floor, there was nothing more to do than wait, peeking at the watch on your wrist, it wouldn't take long for you to be found.

The devil walked through the door exact twelve minutes later, you didn't even have to look, only recognize his walking pattern.

“Know the truth and the truth shall set you free,” you said.

“John, eight thirty-two,” he stood beside your bench, “this doesn't seem like a theater to me,”

Earlier that day, you told Tommy you'd watch a play for the evening, the sudden change of events led you to the local church, “I couldn't stand watching it knowing I could be on the stage,”

“It's really a shame, isn't it?”

“Oh, stop it!” you snapped, “The director told me everything! He showed me a resigning document I never signed!”

Tommy's face closed off, taking a cigarette from his pack, he sat near you, “Mr. Thompson talks too much,”

“He showed me proof, my signature in a paper I never saw! How could you do this to me?!”

“How could you do that to me?” he challenged, “I let a woman go to New York with my baby in her womb, I let her sail away for a promising life with you,”

“Oh,” you scoffed, “the woman who betrayed you?”

“She was more willing to marry me than you ever was,” the comparison and disdain in his words hurt you, “I had proposed to you, you said you needed to think, but you know what hurts the most? I knew if Thompson casted you for another play, you'd had left me without question,”

Your chest weighed in tension, Tommy never talked to you so frankly and the impact your previous insecurity had on him seemed to turn at you with full force. To you, it was simply being divided between a career and marriage. To him, it was an ultimate act of betrayal, a spurn of his love.

“Why didn't you take her then? Why not sail to New York? To a more certain future?” you hesitated.

The humiliation of the first answer to cross Tommy's mind would never leave his lips. Because he loved you. He gulped, looking at you with squinted eyes.

“You don't know what you're saying,” he drawled, “you'd be nothing without me,”

“You took away my choice! I spent months waiting to be casted, waiting for a call I'd never get and you knew it,”

“I did, I spared you from a life of supporting roles,”

“Is that what you tell yourself? To feel less guilty?”

“What about this,” Tommy offered, “this item is done, I lied and you found out, now you go to the car, we go home and I treat you right for the night,”

“You can't possibly think sex will fix this,” standing up, you walked past him heading to the door.

Pragmatic as you were, the next logical decision would be leaving him. Tommy ruined your dream, sabotaging and betraying you, he also rooted himself deep inside your heart.

As pragmatic you were, the possibility of leaving him never existed and as tears ran down your face, you walked straight to his car.

[pucksandpower]

is there a possibility of a part two on the mv1 vegas wedding, perhaps how they might have church wedding ? 🥹🥹 it was just so sickly sweet, i cant get enough of it 🤧🫶

There is definitely a possibility of a part two (though this is a little shorter than my usual work so we can also just call it a second epilogue)

Read part one here: What Happens in Vegas

You stand in front of the floor length mirror, smoothing your hands over the flowing white dress. Today you’re finally getting the real wedding you missed out on during that wild night in Vegas.

A pair of tiny hands suddenly grab at the tulle skirts of your dress. You look down to see your flower girl and daughter, two-year-old Vega, grinning up at you.

“Mama pwetty!” She declares. You scoop her up and kiss her cherub cheek.

“Why thank you, my love! But not as pretty as you in your special dress.”

Vega giggles and squirms to be put down so she can toddle around in her poufy flower girl outfit. You take a deep breath, heart swelling with love for your family.

A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. “Knock knock! Ready to go become Mrs. Verstappen again?”

You take Vega’s hand and turn to your dad with a radiant smile. “Absolutely. How do I look?”

Your father presses a hand to his heart. “Oh honey ... you look absolutely beautiful. Max is going to bawl his eyes out.”

You laugh, feeling a few happy tears prick your own eyes. “Let’s just hope that Daniel doesn’t mess up his lines too badly. Did you see the Elvis costume he was begging to wear?”

Your father chuckles. “Don’t worry, I talked him into a normal tux. He promised to be on his most professional behavior as officiant today.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” you joke. “Really though, thank you for standing by me through all the craziness these past few years. I’m so glad we’re finally doing this for real.”

He pulls you into a careful hug so as not to wrinkle your dress. “I’m just so happy for you and Max. Now come on, let’s get you married again!”

The ceremony is being held outside at a gorgeous vineyard, rows of vines dripping with grapes serving as the perfect backdrop. Your heartbeat quickens as the music swells and Vega heads down the aisle, haphazardly tossing rose petals from her little basket.

Then it’s your turn.

On your father’s arm, you glide towards the floral archway where a nervous but beaming Max waits. The love shining from his eyes when he sees you takes your breath away all over again.

Daniel stands at his side looking polished in his suit, though his hair maintains its signature wild curls. He winks at you as you take your place across from Max beneath the arch.

“Family and friends,” Daniel begins, “we are gathered here today to witness the renewal of vows between Y/N and Max. Their first wedding may have been, shall we say, unconventional—”

“You mean drunk and hasty!” Someone calls out. Laughter ripples through the guests.

Daniel grins. “Yes, thank you Lando. But today we celebrate Y/N and Max formalizing their union after three wonderful years of marriage.”

He turns to Max. “Do you, Max, reaffirm your vow to love and cherish Y/N as your lawfully wedded wife, in plenty and want, in joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live?”

Max gazes into your eyes. “I do, absolutely.”

Daniel repeats the question to you. You blink back joyful tears. “I do, with all my heart.”

“Wonderful!” Daniel says. “Now, the couple has prepared their own vows to share today.”

He gestures to Max, who clears his throat and takes both your hands in his.

“Y/N, that crazy night in Vegas, I never could have imagined where it would lead us. The past two years as your husband have been the best of my life. Every day with you and our daughter is a gift.”

Max’s voice cracks with emotion. “You are my rock, my inspiration, my very best friend. Thank you for taking a chance on me then and choosing to recommit to our partnership today.”

He dabs at his eyes as Daniel prompts you for your vows. You have to take a steadying breath around the balloon of love swelling in your chest.

“Max, what can I say? You’ve turned this reckless whim into the love story of a lifetime. Being your wife and mother of your child are the greatest honors I could imagine.”

You squeeze his hands, voice thick with feeling. “You challenge me, support me, and make me laugh and love more than I ever thought possible every single day. I vow to keep racing into the future with you by my side.”

There’s not a dry eye left as Daniel concludes the ceremony. “By the power vested in me by BecomeAnOfficiantIn20Minutes dot com, I now pronounce you man and wife … again!”

Max sweeps you into a deep kiss as your loved ones erupt into cheers. Vega toddles up to tug on your dress, wanting in on the family hug. You scoop her up and press kisses all over her face as Max wraps his arms around you both.

It’s a perfect moment.

The reception is a joyful and hilarious blur. At one point Max pulls you aside, nodding to where Vega is passed out in her godfather Christian’s arms after tiring herself out dancing.

“Can you believe we made that perfect little girl together?” Max murmurs.

You shake your head wonderingly. “She’s the best surprise to come out of that crazy night.”

Max kisses your temple. “I would marry you a hundred more times if it means I got to relive this journey with you over and over.”

You lean into him contentedly. However unorthodox the start of your relationship was, you’ve built an incredible life together.

And it’s only just beginning.

[chronicbeans]

Wally Darling with a Villain Reader (part 2)

I saw some people request this so here you go! OwO

TW: Kidnapping, Possessive and Obsessive Behavior, Unwanted Hugs/Cuddles

🍎 You have been sitting in the basement for a long time, now. Well, at least you THINK it has been a long time. It is pitch black, besides the candles, which only light a small portion of the basement. Wally said that, for whatever reason, electricity doesn't work in Home's basement. He also said that, since the candles use flames, it would warm you up more than electric lights, anyways.

🍎 Either way, it is dreadfully cold. You are wrapped up in a million blankets, with pillows surrounding you to work as a mattress or sorts, yet you are still cold and uncomfortable. Is this your punishment for annoying people? You really don't know. Wally hasn't explained anything to you, yet.

🍎 Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Look who's walking down the stairs to see you! It's Wally Darling, the star of the show! You don't even try to run anymore, because he always closes the basement door too quickly to give you a chance. Once that door closes, it is always pitch black, again. Not only that, but you are also pretty sure Home is working alongside him. Once, when you said something bad about Wally keeping you locked up, a pipe above you began leaking in response, some weird, black substance staining your blanket.

🍎 Wally walks over you, with you only being able to see him again once he is right in front of you. His grin is as merry as ever and his eyes still holding that unnerving look as when he first brought you here. He pulls up a pillow, sitting cross legged on it as he speaks, his voice holding his signature monotone "Isn't this so fun? I get to see you everyday, you get to sit back and relax in here. I also get to watch how our neighbors are reacting to you disappearing! How exciting!"

🍎"Wally... this isn't fun. Please, let me go! I don't know what I did to make you so upset, but-!" He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips to keep you quiet. "You did... nothing. Nothing to upset me." You can tell it's a lie everytime he says it. His smile always grows a bit darker when he does, almost like he is straining to keep it together. However, he then pulls away, continuing "Why is it fun when you whisk me away, but not the other way around? That doesn't sound very fair, neighbor. I am having fun. Home is having fun, too! Are you still cold? Do you need more blankets?"

🍎 You don't answer his question, instead asking "Is... is anybody even looking for me? Do they care?" He pauses, seemingly thinking. He then shakes his head "No. I don't think they are... Let me tell you a secret, little villain." He crawls over, grabbing a hold of your upper arms, saying "Don't let Home know this, okay?" You weakly nod, at this point just wanting him to get away from you as soon as possible. You aren't going to lie... As much as you like to seem brave, Wally looks a bit frightening in the glow of candle lights.

🍎 He leans close to your ear, whispering "I don't think our neighbors have even noticed you are gone, yet... it is kind of like... you never existed." Your heart sinks. You watch as he pulls away, still holding your arms as he says "I'll be here, though! We can play games. I can show you how to draw. I can give you some paper to write on. The others don't matter, right? You'll be safe and happy here, I promise. A good neighbor never breaks a promise. Pinky swear!" He grabs your hand, linking your pinky to his in a forced promise. "I can even keep you warm and safe, here. If the blankets don't work, I'll come down every hour to give you a long, warm hug!"

🍎 As if to demonstrate, he wraps his arm around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. To be fair, he is surprisingly warm, but it is still extremely uncomfortable. You have made it very clear to him, numerous times, that you like to have personal space. Usually whenever you took him to the forest, you just grabbed his hand and dragged him there, then sat next to him on a log with a foot between you two. Meanwhile, he grabbed you from behind like some horror movie villain, dragged you into his basement, and now won't stop finding excuses to hug you close.

🍎"Get off of me... I'll be fine on my own. These blankets are cozy enough." They really aren't. You just want him off of you. "Nope! You are my captive, now! You gotta do as I say, and I want hugs! Just a few more minutes." Your eyes widen. That is a very... uncharacteristic thing for Wally to say. Then again, he has been acting strange ever since he took you here... but he usually still listens to you when you say to let go.

🍎 You get an explanation once he says "I love playing villain! I can see why you like it, now. You get to be mean and not listen to people. While you like to break things, say mean things, and trip people... I like to keep you here and cuddle you for as long as I want! After all, from how you spoke to me during the times you took me away, you seem like you really need them. If you won't accept them or ask for them yourself, I'm going to make you. Nobody else is willing to give you them, after all, because you are MY villain."

🍎 He finally pulls away, causing you to instinctively scoot away from him. "You are crazy. Like... There is something WRONG with you. Why won't you just let me go home? Even if people do start looking for me, nobody is going to even THINK to look inside your house! Much less your basement, which people don't know about! What even is this place? It's so dark. It seems to go on forever..."

🍎 Wally lets out a small "humph" noise, tilting his head "That's just another little insult, isn't it? Kind of like you saying my paintings look bad. I'm not crazy! If I am, I'm crazy for you! I don't seem to act like this around anyone else and you won't leave my head. As for this place... I honestly don't know. It came with Home. I haven't seen all of it." There is a muffled knock from upstairs, followed by an equally muffled "Wally! I gotta delivery for ya!"

🍎"Oh! My paints must have arrived! I'm working on a gift for you! How about you just get some sleep, okay? Oh, and don't try screaming. I've found that nobody can hear anything from down here, for some reason... I really picked the jackpot with this hiding place!" He then hurries upstairs, leaving you in the darkness, once again.

[suguru-getos]

Fleeting - Part I

Summary: Broken and bruised, is what your heart feels after losing the love of your life - Geto Suguru, in the hands of someone you barely know. Isn't it your duty to have Gojo Satoru dead at your feet?

Author's Note: Gosh TIS is ANGSTY>!!! I almost cried while writing this part :((

Chapter Summary: You have been told that Suguru is no more, how you cope up can be utterly frightening when there's nothing else to lose anymore.

You stood at the kitchen door, frozen, numb, eyes widened with the sheer panic of everything that befell. The environment around you just felt akin to pure desolation, the very marrow of your bone shattered, broken apart in endless pieces and it was impossible to bring you back. The endless void that Suguru created in your life, the deteriorating feeling of emptiness, hollowing you, sucking your soul up. "Where is he?" You managed to fight from the endless pit of anxiety that grew like a black hole. Mimiko and Nanako are scared to meet your gaze, the woman who's not much older than them but they still consider her as the epitome of love. For both of them, and, their precious Geto Sama.

Your eyes are not allowing the pent-up grief to escape, not a tear shall be shed for this. Never will. You can't wash off all the feelings of being notoriously tainted by Suguru's intensity, by his love. Your mind isn't thinking straight, you want answers, need answers. "I asked a question, Miguel." You asked someone else in the 'Family' that cherished you as much as they cherished Geto. "Please.." Manami, the woman who helped him do his due-diligence being a Cult leader cried out. She knows you will break apart, and they are not sure if they can handle a living corpse after losing Suguru-chan.

"Where is Sugu?" You asked again, desperation of clutching for the fleeting hope of him returning back, evidently smiling with his ever-so-loving, signature smile and warmth ensuing with his hugs. He couldn't… he shouldn't. HE COULDN'T!

"Y/N Sama" Nanako sniffled, running to you and hugging you tightly, loud sobs and wails of torment echoed the room as she fell to her knees. As if she's apologizing. Why is she apologizing? Where is Suguru? You just asked a simple question - where is Geto Suguru? The love of your life, the biggest piece of your heart, the reason of you existing and not dead at your own actions all those years ago.

"Y/N Sama- please don't ask this, you know he's gone… he said he would be the first to come home didn't he?"

You want to kill everyone in this room, you want to kill every sorcerer to exist, you want to kill yourself.

He did… he did promise you. Hugged you close and whispered how grateful he is to have you, over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Why did he have to leave you forever?

Why could he not let his heart beat for you?

"This- is mine." The flashback of Suguru's silky voice haunts you, as his looming, large hands point at the left side of your chest. "You have my heart, and I, have yours." He smiled, holding your hand and softly placing it on his naked chest. "So if this stops working -" He nuzzles against your chest, "Which it would never, because my heart would never give up on you… but if it does, know I've failed to protect you as a man."

"Gosh, so intense and for what" You push him away, rolling your eyes. "Both our hearts wouldn't stop working. You know why? Because - in this world, you bring out a smile in me."

Suguru was right, if his heart was in you - he didn’t fail to protect you, but you did. You're all alone now, the only shred of comfort if ever, in the grotesque way your heart is tattered apart, is the words of Suguru where he calls that 'his heart'. You know that's not true, you know better. Still, what else could you do?

You can't think of anything else, can't speak, can't eat. Time is a construct when it's your other half that you’ve lost.

You don't even remember that a week has passed with you staring at the wall, sleeping in the same bed that has the scent of your person.. fleeting… just like him.

You cry on the eighth day, you roar, you scream, you let the world know that you're here. Even if Geto Suguru is not, you're here.

What's worse than a lion? The king of the jungle, the apex predator?

An injured lion.

You.

All you can think of is how to make the ache in your heart settle, how to breathe again. Or perhaps, how to be worthy of death that you can grant yourself and re-unite with Suguru. What would it take to meet him again…

You drag yourself up from the bed, going to his closet and taking his perfume out, the whisking sound of it spraying all over echoes as you close your eyes, pumping it over and over and over and over and over- you can't afford to not smell like your lover. You are losing your mind- why doesn't everyone else die? Who killed him-

Right, who killed Suguru Geto?

Frantically, tear-stained and in an absolute mess, you opened the door. Stunned to see 'everyone' standing outside. You know why they were there, your screams and sobs were unimaginably painful. You were crying out in utter devastating, soul churning pain after all. None of them knew how to console you after all. How would you tell someone to be okay after they lose the light of their life?

"Who killed him?" You asked the question, looking at everyone.

"Gojo Satoru." Larue responded.

"Gojo Satoru.." You repeated, as if writing his name in red in your broken, bleeding heart. Writing his name in… blood red.

"His best friend?" You snorted, the denial turning you furious and unimaginably dangerous.

"We have a new mission, my family." You smiled. If it's revenge that can keep you alive, so be it.

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

warmth

For @praetorqueenreyna

AO3

   Tamlin stumbles slightly as he winnows into the clearing. His magic was still a wild thing that he fought to reign but he’d mustered up enough strength to achieve a stable winnow. His drab tunic and dirt stained boots were a far cry from the finery befitting a High Lord, but he wasn’t befitting High Lord at the moment.

   The dust pink envelope had emerged from thin air, landing smack dab on his face while he’d been taking stock of the Manor’s repairs. He’d been apprehensive at first, awaiting a night-silk voice coming to taunt him yet again; he’d waited two nights before opening it, still expecting someone to come along, but the envelope had arrived, and remained, alone.

   It contained a wine dark card with the same dust pink lettering reading: Arrive at Tolos’ Clearing by the full moon.

   Tamlin didn’t know why he’d listened, but there had been something urging him to come anyway.

   So here he was, in the frigid night. The air was cold, due to the Clearing’s proximity to Winter, and nipped at his face. Tamlin resolved to wait only an hour more before returning to the warmth of Spring. Whoever had demanded his presence here would have to learn punctuality.

   He paced around to fight the cold, boots sinking into the moss covered ground, a moss that was quickly growing since he could not be bothered to contain his magic.

   The air swiftly changed, the scent of spiced acorns and crisp apples filling the air. Finally, he thought.

   “You realize when you invite a guest, you should be here to greet them,” he said, turning around to meet whoever had arrived. Tamlin stood shock still, as brown and red filled his vision.

   “Beron?”

   For that was Beron Vanserra in front of him, tall and staunch, his signature I-Am-Better-Than You sneer fixed on his face.

   “Was it you that sent the ridiculous missive?” he demanded.

   “No, it was me,” a voice called out.

   Tamlin whirled again to see the newcomer. A figure emerged from the trees, cloaked and unfamiliar. “I am glad you chose to respond,” they said.

   “And who are you?” Tamlin quickly asked. Beron looked inclined to accompany his next inquiry with a fireball.

   “That matters not, it is my message that’s important,” they said, pulling out a scroll from somewhere in their cloak, and unrolling it.

   “An Ode to the Lady Elain Archeron is to be held. It shall commence on the Day of Labor and shall end on the seventh day of the ninth month. You, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, and Beron Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, are henceforth banned from any involvement with this Ode in any way. You shant do so yourselves, or deceive another party to include you.”

   Tamlin stood in confusion. “What would I have to do with Elain Archeron?” He’d never thought about any of Feyre’s sisters beyond their financial safety when they’d still been human. He didn’t  think much of any Archeron at all, lately. He looked at Beron who looked well on his way to send the fireball without asking a question.

   “I would not associate with that filth,” Beron hissed.

   The figure rolled their scroll back up, smoothly placing it back in their cloak with a tilt of their wrist. “You’d better not,” they said, “both of you.”

   Tamlin tensed. Or else? “What would happen if we did?”

   The figure shifted, almost fidgeting. Were they nervous? “That’s not important.”

   Beron finally released that fireball. “No, it is quite important if you think yourself strong enough to threaten me,” he said through gritted teeth.

   The figure had jumped back just in time to avoid being cremated, though the same couldn’t be said for the hem of their cloak which was now nothing more than ash.

   “Just don’t get involved,” they said, a slight panic in their tone.

   That was strange. No one confident in a plan would react this way, but why- Wait.

   “You,” Tamlin started, “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”

   Quiet, but the scent of the nervous sweat the figure just broke out in was answer enough.

   “Just stay away,” they snapped and leaped back into the shadows.

   Tamlin shook his head, how ridiculous, he’d come here for nothing. He turned to Beron whose sneer had upgraded to his patented Stare-At-Me-Wrong-And-You’re-Dead glare. “Why did you come anyway?” Tamlin asked. For Beron to have even considered leaving his Court for a reason he would, should, have considered trivial was… peculiar to say the list.

   “No one commands me.”

   But you were commanded to come here. Tamlin sighed. He should’ve just winnowed back. Why wasn’t he winnowing back?

   Beron’s warm, his mind supplied, practically a furnace. Yes, yes that’s why he was still here.

   He stared at Beron again, taking him in. There was a new gleam in those mahogany eyes. “You’re going to get involved out of spite, aren’t you?”

   Beron’s glare morphed to his Yes-I-Am-Planning-Your-Downfall smirk. “That’s no business of yours, beast. Go hunt for your dinner,” he said and left in a whirlwind of that addicting acorn and apple scent.

   Addicting? Tamlin shook his head. The cold had gotten to his senses. Warmth, that was all.

   He looked to the Clearing once more, and winnowed back to Spring.

[live-laugh-lenney]

he said recently in a side channel video that he had a cat ,,,, opinions on mini arthurtv cat meeting reader for the first time ⁉️

also i want to be a reoccurring anon i feel like i should have like a signature of an emoji

yes, yes to being a reoccurring anon! i've never had one before... do you want the honour of choosing the emoji yourself or shall i pick it?

it's a childhood pet.

a little kitten, from a rescue animal shelter on the island of jersey, that they had gotten because his younger sisters were always asking for a pet to have at home. a little kitten that he was never fussed about but grew to absolutely adore when she would trot into his room and take refuge on the end of his bed. a little kitten that was so loved and well-looked after with toys and treats.

so when arthur brought yn to jersey for the first time, to properly and formerly meet his family for the first time, the cat had been included in those introductions.

she's greeted by his younger sisters as they rush forward to greet her with a hug and a hello, the smell of a delicious roast in the oven that his step-dad was keeping an eye on, and the tightest hug from his mum as they finally met in person as opposed to facetime calls and pictures that were sent in their family group chat. accepting the offer of a cup of tea, a couple of biscuits, and answering his step-dad's question on if she wanted sprouts with her dinner or not.

"beware, there's probably a tiny predator on my bed."

yn stares at him in confusion as she follows him up the stairs, their luggage for the week ahead held tightly in his hands as he led her to where his childhood bedroom used to be. still holding a sense of his teenage years but with a slightly more adult-ish look to it... with a lot of neutral colours going on, plenty of family photos hung on the walls yet his sea-lion teddy bear sitting in between his two pillows at the head of the bed.

"this is the family cat," arthur smiles at the cat curled up on his duvet, snoozing away and blissfully unaware of the chaos that had only just happened upon her arrival, "she's pretty used to people, you know, in a house that has homed a lot of kids."

she giggles softly and crouches down at the end of his bed, resting her elbows on the edge of the bed as she dug her fingers gently into the tabby fur of the cat that was happily purring.

"she's so sweet."

"always seemed to have a soft spot for me," he sets their suitcases on the floor beneath his window and settles himself down on his bed, "i don't know why."

"she's not an idiot," yn grins cheekily at him and his cheeks flush a pink colour, "she knows a handsome man when she sees one."

she joins him on the bed, laying flat next to him and staring at the ceiling above her, taking in everything that was happening around her. how she was in the childhood bedroom of the man she's recently come to have an infatuation with, getting to know him on a much more deeper and personal level, maturing their relationship by going one step further and meeting his family. comforting, swallowed by the love his family had for each other, a homely feel to where she was spending the next week with him.

"i'm glad you decided to come with me," he says softly, turning his head and looking at her, "really glad."

"i'm glad you asked me to come with you," she responds and rolls onto her side, poking his shoulder with her fingertip, "next is my lot. are you ready for that?"

"from all the stories i've heard, i'm quite excited," he laughs and she situates herself comfortably against his body, head resting on his chest and a leg thrown over his, "the hour flight really takes it out of me, you know?"

she nods and yawns, as if on cue, and he snickers softly.

and it's not long before his cat joins them, except she chooses to lay against yn instead of arthur, and he finds it the sweetest thing. how she lays her head on yn's hand, stretched out and tucked ever so comfortably in the curve of her body, eyes closed in content and the purrs filling the room.

"she likes you."

"i take that as a win," yn grins tiredly, "i think i could cope with your family not liking me. i can win them over easy. but your cat? oh god."

"you're just too loveable," he says, "she knows a pretty girl when she sees one." xx

[idalenn]

Day 1 - Steer

Aftermath of the Crystal Tower. Alphinaud learns from a true businessman. (A Realm Reborn)

Full text below the cut if you'd rather read it on Tumblr instead of Ao3.

“And of the boy – were you successful locating his next of kin?”

“The documents provided by NOAH were bereft of evidence related to his origins. Unofficially, we’ve heard claims he may have familial ties within the Corvosi of southeastern Ilsabard.” The Elezen woman tapped a quill to the open, hide-backed volume in her hands. “But we are unable to confirm their validity at this time. It remains hearsay.”

“Then our efforts must be concentrated in a more scholarly direction. We cannot simply shrug our shoulders when it comes to Sharlayan. Having the loss of their pupil go unrecognized, or worse – underappreciated – will impact future endeavors. Reparations will soften the blow and secure fertile grounds for tilling.” With his own writing tool, edges leafed in gold and tipped with a brilliant ruby, Lolorito scratched his final signature onto the treaty.

A click of the inlaid jewel sent the tool’s end retreating into itself. Black ink dripped from the hole; blood from an open wound. One quick swipe with cloth made of finer material than Lillian would ever own picked it up without a trace left behind. Lolorito curtly tossed the cloth back among the ink pots. “A veritable drop in the ocean of spoils we’ve earned this day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillian felt a veritable ocean of sweat growing in her boots. Devoid of windows or any sort of opening to the outside save the single door combined with an abundance of crystal-lit lanterns, the Monetarist’s chamber buffered her and Alphinaud with a furnace’s heat. Even wearing gloves she feared taking the document in hand and drenching their hard work. The scars across her face ached under the pressure.

“Adamantite. Allagan technology. Wisdom beyond measure and reach, and beyond price some might claim, but there will be a price, and as sole owner of that crystal tower, the price shall be any figure negotiable.” The Lalafell chuckled to himself as he sealed the treaty with wax and sigil before sliding it across the desk. “And this is just the beginning. I know our contract was only for the tower’s acquisition, but I have grand plans in motion for future expansion, and you’re just the two to help see them bear fruit.” He spread his arms wide as though welcoming them into his embrace. “Care to stay for a time?”

Another cramp ran through Lillian’s leg. The chairs they sat in were perfectly Lalafell sized, undoubtedly Lolorito’s primary audience, but less so for the snow-haired Elezen child across from him, and unbearably small for the Miqo’te dwarfing every other soul in the room, whose legs were forcibly kept at such an angle between chair and desk that, if this meeting continued much longer, were liable to fall off.

“Other business calls.” She said.

“Of course. Scions and governments running you ragged must come first, but forget not my offer. And you, Master Alphinaud? From your quiet I must believe in some thought being given.”

Alphinaud took the treaty in a shaking hand. “Your assistance to the Crystal Braves is greatly appreciated, Lord Lolorito. If I may, I have but one more question, and after we’ll be on our way.”

“Then I take it you need time to consider.” Lolortio stroked his goatee, smiling with brilliant white teeth. The mask made interpreting his expression impossible. To Lillian it appeared a predator’s grin. “Very well. The floor is yours, my boy.”

“Care to share the details on how you intend to move forward? Specifically, I wish to know how you will honor the loss of G’raha Tia, without whom this endeavor would have ended in failure.” The Elezen aide narrowed her eyes. Lolorito’s smile never dropped an ilm.

“For effort contributed, I suppose you can be trusted with particulars. I am nothing if not fair, as Nald’Thal demands.” One of the lanterns flickered, and a glint off a gold-plated scale on the Lalafell’s desk caught Lillian’s attention. “G’raha Tia has no will, no family of note who can be contacted or given payment, and represents no organization outside of one within Sharlayan. Any and all possessions within NOAH’s hands will be returned to that organization. His share will, of course, be divided amongst all hired.

“Sharlayan will receive a lump sum of gil in an amount yet to be determined but no less than two hundred thousand. That previously mentioned organization will also partake of a sizable donation. Ah, but this name eludes me.” He snapped his fingers rapidly as if trying to light a spark. “I’m sure it began with ‘students’ something or other… the students of…”

“Baldesion.” Alphinaud finished through gritted teeth.

“It is refreshing, Master Alphinaud, to meet another so untrained in subtleties and be reminded I am not so alone in this world. As someone eyeing to hold a position of political power in our realm, you would do well to either hone a silver tongue or abandon all pretense of furthering your cause with it.”

“You only saw our friend as numbers to be counted!”

“Absolutely! Much in the same way you yourself only see the Syndicate in measures of usefulness and value to your coffers. Life is a series of numbers! You sought profits as well as I, my boy, and in doing so one must on occasion plan for declines. All gathered in this room have value, and all will be made equal should misfortune come to pass.”

Lolorito leaned forward over the desk, his hands folded together in a wall from which atop he stood a giant before Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light. “You captain an uncertain ship, Master Alphinaud, and unless you wish your company dashed amongst the rocks, you had best learn to steer.”

[tmntxthings]

I. Had a thought for rise! Donnie w/ a friend whose got object empathy. This is just some thought sharing but like

Y/N: He's all alone... abandoned... what if his family is worried for him?

Donnie: ... Y/N that is a broken toaster

Y/N: And someone just left him on the side of the road, what if he's lonely??

Donnie: Inanimate objects don't have emotions Y/N

Y/N: Maybe he's an inanimate object to you, but he's just a little guy for me!

Donnie: ...

Donnie: Fine, lets take it to the lair, I'll fix it

Y/N: 🥺

Donnie: ... and well put it next to the other toaster so they don't feel lonely

In short he does not get it™️ but he's trying his best

ANON I LOVE YOU

this was so cute and I love thought sharing <3333 can i just run wild with this one? a drabble solely for you my dearest anon? yes?? no objections??? OKI XD

part two

—————————————————————————

You held back a sob, though a distressed sort of noise filtered through your lips and Donnie was quickly realizing you had stopped a couple feet back. “Dearest??” He called to see your eyes glued to the side, his gaze followed to an alleyway.

With you unmoving and unresponsive he was swiftly by your side once more. Worry seeping into his mind. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, looking at you while giving a scan to the… empty alleyway? His brows came down in confusion as he continued to look back and forth, from you to the empty space. Well it wasn’t entirely void. But there wasn’t any person, nor some villain committing heinous acts.

All Donatello could see, was a few scattered trash cans, along with.. well trash! He brought down his goggles wondering if that would help. No mystic energy. No invisible boogeyman. No heat signatures. Absolutely nothing! Pushing up his goggles his stare came back to you, wondering if maybe you were in a state of shock or perhaps a daydream when you suddenly spoke,

“He’s sitting there all alone!” You whimpered. “He??” Donatello parroted back in a bit of mild shock. He was 100% certain that no one was there, so he didn’t turn his head to look back at the dead end. He just waited for you to continue. “Mhm, he’s just a little guy, poor thing, broken and bruised,” and Donnie watched as you held back tears.

“I’m not following.” And yet as you lifted your hand to point a finger, his head reluctantly turned to see.. a toaster. He blinked. Surely there was something behind the kitchen suppliance. Nope, just trash. “Dee! He was tossed out, left for dead!! We can’t just leave him!” Donnie stood frozen on the sidewalk as you approached the toaster. Going as far to crouch down and give it a gentle pat.

“Dearest.. that’s a toaster.” He felt the need to explain. But you tossed him a ‘duh’ look and then continued to console the battered hunk of metal. “What happened to you buddy?” You were now asking it questions. Donatello held in a big sigh. This had to be some sort of a joke. Where you were about to laugh and yet… the punchline never came. And the toaster never did reply to your question as most would assume.

“Can we keep him?” Suddenly the thing was in your arms, and you were shooting the purple turtle big puppy dog eyes. “Oh Galileo!” Donnie slumped, waving a hand in defeat and you cheered as you carried the toaster all the way back to the lair. Well, Donnie ended up holding it for you. “I guess I can patch it-“

“Him!”

“…patch him up.” Donnie had corrected himself rather reluctantly. But it earned him a chaste kiss to his cheek which lifted his spirits at an embarrassingly fast pace. Like… he’d fix up any old appliance you found if it meant he’d receive such affections. “And once you get all fixed up the lair shall have two mighty toasters!!” You raised a fist triumphantly before descending into the manhole.

Donnie watched as you climbed down, chuckling to himself. He was holding a broken toaster, planning on refurbishing it, (definitively gonna get some upgrades) and now following after you like a love-sick buffoon. But alas, he was your love-sick fool. He listened intently as you told the toaster he wouldn’t be lonely any longer. That he’d have a cool toasty buddy. And that they would live side by side happily.

Now this purple turtle might not understand what was going on. But damn it, he was buckled in and ready for the ride. If you wanted to help a broken toaster… so would he! Truly he was your fool. And because he was yours, he didn’t really mind.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Not Part of the Plan (Walking Dead Drabble)

Negan Smith x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Negan discovers that you've been sent to spy on the Sanctuary

Fic type: non-romantic espionage, dark fic (idk man)

TWD: @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure your shit out?” 

You winced, knowing this was probably the end for you. You’d hoped he wouldn’t find out why you were here at the Sanctuary, but your luck had to run out at some point, you supposed. Being sent to spy on an entire community was easier said than done. 

“Answer me!” He roared, leaning over in front of you, Lucille poking over his shoulder. Your eyes zeroed in on the bat. That one weapon having done so much fucking visceral damage to you and your family. Even the sight of it made you want to spit on him and run them both over with a semi about seventeen times each. Maybe you’d run Lucille over first and make him watch.  

“Well, obviously I hoped you fucking wouldn’t, didn’t I?” You snarked back, shifting your weight to your other knee, the pebbles in the hard ground digging into your skin.

“Is that- fuck me, Simon. Are you hearing this shit? That’s fucking attitude.” 

Simon clicked his tongue from Negan’s right, looking down on you with an expression that was very much akin to a disappointed father towards their child who’d just broken mummy’s favourite vase. You didn’t care for it.

 

“Sounds very much like attitude to me, boss,” he replied back smoothly, shaking his head. “Shall we teach ‘em a lesson?” 

Negan stood back up, looming over you like an immovable boulder. You’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t fill you with fear, or that you were fighting not to fucking piss yourself right now. But you’d never let him see that. Never. 

He looked down at you thoughtfully for a few moments, chewing on his bottom lip. Something that you’d only ever seen him do when he was truly enraged. 

“Nah, Simon,” he finally said, and the man in question stepped back and away from you. “I think we might just go on a fucking trip. What do you say, darlin’?” He gripped you by the hair and forced your head back to look him in the eye. You glared daggers, and that signature grin slid right back into place. “Oh-hoh, look at that. If I weren’t the shit around here, that might just scare me.” 

He let go of your hair aggressively, and you ignored the tug on the muscle. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d managed to hurt you. 

“Get up, darlin’,” he said, voice dripping with charm. “We’re gonna go on a little drive to see your buddies. Then, I’m going to line them all up and make you choose someone for Lucille.” 

Negan’s grin grew impossibly darker, and he leaned in to whisper into your ear-

“And after that, well, shit- I might fucking kill you, too.” 

You betrayed nothing of the fear that wound tightly up your spine, and Negan laughed, pulling away like he hadn’t just threatened to kill you and someone you love. 

“But we’ll see what happens, yeah? Good. Alright. Load ‘em up, Simon.” 

You fought the man as best you could but still found yourself in the back of the truck anyway. 

Well, shit. This was not going to plan.

[muffinlance]

Shaw reeeeally want to eat the earth kings bear. It’s so exotic and he’s never tried one before. Just a nibble, maybe a haunch, then he’ll know if it tastes like orca-bear or weasel-bear.

(Continued from parts one and two.)

Kuei is, in the understated words of one of his earliest tutors, feeling mildly out of his geological stratum. 

There was a war. There was a war for his entire life, for his father’s and his grandfather’s. He is only learning of it now, because it is over, and his signature is required on the official documents. 

(At least they didn’t just take his royal seal and stamp it themselves.)

The young king has many questions. Mostly about his own court, and which of his advisors are truly trustworthy.

(And which would find for him a less pleasant oubliette, if he tried to rattle his palace’s bars.)

“The Fire Lord will enter through the eastern doors,” an etiquette tutor he’s never seen before instructs him. “You will stand for him, but not bow. His dragons have been instructed to enter behind him, but in practice, will do as they please. Or as he has ordered them. They are an intimidation tactic; do not acknowledge them. The terms have already been agreed upon. Place your stamp where indicated. If he inclines his head, you may return the gesture…”

It would be a significant amount of information to remember, had it not sifted down to “your presence was not required before, and is only ceremonial now.”

Kuei stands when the Fire Lord enters. His fellow monarch is young, but so is Kuei. The boy comes flanked with his own cadre of old men. Perhaps this is just what it’s like, being a king. 

And then the dragons enter, which rather puts into perspective why this meeting is occuring in the grand ballroom, rather than a more usual diplomatic location. They are… very impressive specimens. The old men behind Kuei stiffen at the sight of them. The ones near the Fire Lord have to actively dodge, with a rumpling of robes and dignity alike, as the great serpents claim their place at the boy’s sides. 

And then they keep coming forward, coils of them thick around as particularly rotund badgermoles, and Kuei’s advisors follow the example set by their peers. Which is to say: Kuei is suddenly rather alone at the table, with two great heads crossing paths behind him. They pause like that, for a moment, before moving on. There is enough of them to wrap back around to their Fire Lord’s side, even as they remain looped behind Kuei. 

Yes. Yes, he could see why this would be an effective intimidation tactic.

The Fire Lord looks at the chair he’s been provided. Then down the length of the great table, to where Kuei would sit. There would have been servants to carry the papers between them, but… well. They are probably not going to risk scaling the dragon’s sides. The Fire Lord huffs, and walks to the chair to the left of Kuei’s, before setting down a pile of scrolls.

They let him carry important documents himself. That must be nice. 

“Have you had time to read the final draft?” the Fire Lord asks, his chair scraping against stone as he pulls it out. He sits, and looks to Kuei expectantly.

Do not speak to him, says the voice of the tutor in Kuei’s memory. He is the violent offspring of an upstart island; you are the rightful inheritor of a continent. You bow to him on paper only.

“I… have not,” Kuei admits, and takes his own seat. 

“Neither have I,” says the boy. “We should probably make sure the copies match, too. My advisors kept telling me not to worry about it, which is probably a reason to worry about it.”

So they unroll two copies of the finest calligraphy, and push their chairs close, and get down to reading. It is not an exaggeration to say that Kuei has spent his whole life practicing for this.

“This map cannot be accurate,” Kuei says.

“It… looks okay to me?”

“This is nearly two-thirds of our western fishing ports, nevermind the river transport routes, whose ‘tax rates and availability to outside use shall be at the discretion of the Fire Lord’?”

“That’s where my people live.”

“Then where did my people go?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. Who is actually quite significantly younger than Kuei.

“...Did your advisors hand you papers to sign, too?”

“They said you’d already agreed.”

Kuei’s own advisors had implied they’d all be eaten by dragons should he refuse to sign, so. That was certainly a form of agreement. 

One of the Fire Lord’s very intimidating serpents has laid its great head down across most of their table, and appears to have fallen asleep. The other is… scenting the air? Well. That's mildly alarming. It coils its neck back, to the limit the high ceiling allows, and stares down at something outside its coils. 

Which is the point Kuei hears the whuffing of his bear cub. Which his advisors had very firmly told him could not be at this meeting, so little Bosco had been left in a garden with servants for attendants, but so many people are as afraid of a simple bear cub as they are of these great beasts of dragons, so it was no surprise he’d escaped to find the one person who really cared—

“Spit it out!” shouts the Fire Lord. “Spit it out!”

Kuei is not entirely certain how he ends up with his arms inside a dragon’s maw, his formal hairpiece being dripped upon by hot saliva fresh from a fang. But at least he's not the only monarch to be in such a state. 

The dragon’s great size is, in retrospect, a blessing: a little morsel like Bosco had not required chewing. The bear shakes in his arms, but Kuei’s combing through wet fur had not turned up a scratch upon him. 

“That is,” says the Fire Lord, looking up. And up further. Until he finds Bosco’s trembling muzzle, pressed against the top of Kuei’s head, “a really big… bear-otter?”

“He’s just a bear,” sniffles Kuei, hugging his poor baby back, if not quite so heartily as Bosco is hugging him. “A little cub. How could your dragon do such a thing?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. “Shaw… apologizes?”

The dragon does not look at all apologetic. It's nuzzling the Fire Lord’s back, in a way Kuei himself recognizes from a hundred objects pulled from a baby bear’s inquisitive mouth. But father, can’t I eat it? Please?

“We,” Kuei says, his chin lifted haughtily, “are going to refresh ourselves in the royal chambers. You are welcome to the guest baths. And then we are going to sit down with a real map.” 

Not whatever fanciful one the Fire Lord’s advisors have concocted. 

“Fine,” the boy snaps back. 

When they meet again, an hour later, both are free of the sulfurous stench of dragon spit. And both have brought their own maps, of the Fire Nation’s current military occupation.

Kuei does not sign until his people have free access to their own resources again. If slightly less land than they began with. As he is not eaten by a dragon for his troubles, he sets his sights upon his advisors, next.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)

[softsan]

[11:48 PM] - You shivered, brushing away the cold as you stared into the lawless abyss. Demon!Mingi's emerald flames danced to the beat of your heartbeat. With each footstep, he took closer toward your human vessel, the blaze in turn would burn with more fury. You couldn't comprehend the scale of pandemonium he'd cause if he let his green fire run wild. Only the most skillful of demons could wield the evilness of such magic. Demon!Mingi's eyes burned with a hunger, his head tilting as he observed you under the moon's pale light. "You've had us all fool," His tongue darted from his mouth, licking the bottom of his lip, "Y/N," You exhaled the breath you'd been holding, your true identity had at long last been exposed. It had been decades since someone had called you by your real name. You had grown so accustomed to mortal life that you'd had since dropped your guard. "I don't go by that name here," You finally made eye contact with Demon!Mingi, the midnight breeze blowing your hair behind you. "What shall I call you then?" He challenged, "Would fiancée be more to your… liking." You held back the urge to scoff, "I'm not your fiancée," Your face slightly sobered, "At least not anymore," The wickeded in Demon!Mingi's face softened after hearing the tone of your voice change. "I live as a human now." "You don't have to," He whispered. "It's getting late, you should leave be the neighbours start asking questions," You ignored Demon!Mingi's last statement, turning your back on the devil of your past. "You know what," Demon!Mingi closed his fist, his green flames disappearing as if they'd never been there, "I could do with a late-night snack since I'm here." He took steps after you. You threw him a look of disbelief, only to be met with his signature cheek-filled smile.

[loserholland]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐀.𝐓

𝐈. 𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

Pairing ➺  Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targ/Vela/Strong!Reader

Warning ➺ Knvies! Name calling (Bastard, cripple), angst

Word Count ➺ 1.7K

Summary ➺ Her mother was known to be “The Realms Delight”. Soon Rhaeneyra’s daughter would earn that title as well, leaving many suitors waiting in line an a particular uncle waiting as well. 

A/N ➺ (The reader is born before Jace) I need to get this out of my system, I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. Also because I personally think I can change Aemond & I love him sm (even though he’s a kinslayer). Let’s just forget that for a moment. I’ll most likely write a part two, we shall see

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @ohbabycal @laucontrerasv @spider-mendes @jessybellsworld @quaksonhehe​ @dummiesshort​

☞  Masterlist  ☜

Rhaenyra and Laenor were blessed with a beautiful babe, a girl. The midwife had told her “She’ll be a beauty like you, your grace.” brushing past the fact that the princess had called her a cunt not too long ago. Her first born child, one of her most difficult labors to say the least, the second the queen got wind of the birth of (Y/N), she requested to see the babe. Rhaenyra thought nothing of the sort at first until it happened to Jacaerys, Lucerys.

Quite a cunt move if you ask me. 

As (Y/N) grew older, her mother noticed a difference between her sons and daughter. Her hair was quite unique, brown with streaks of platinum white. Many hadn’t speculated her relation to her father Ser Laenor. Many had said it’s due to her Baratheon blood from her grandmother’s side of the family, at least that’s what her grandsire had said. 

But, we all know the truth. That beautiful brown and strong personality comes from her father. As she grew older she began to catch the eyes of many, not only did she inherit her mother’s beauty- she also had the Targaryen’s signature violet eyes. I guess that was another reason why no one questioned who her father may be. 

At her 6th name day celebration, Viserys had invited many of the noble houses wanting to introduce his granddaughter to many of the young lords that may take her hand in marriage some day. The hall was filled with light laughter and chatter, many houses came up to the main table to greet the Targaryens. (Y/N) sat between her grandsire and her favorite uncle, Aemond. Though at the time she never addressed him as uncle, they were only about four years apart. 

A few months later however, her Lucerys would take Aemond’s eye in an accident. Such tragedy had happened in the past few months; from losing her Aunt Laena, to the death of Sir Harwin along with his father, to her father Ser Laenor. Her mother had taken refuge on Dragonstone while you had decided to continue your studies at the keep.

After Aemond had lost an eye it caused a rift between the two of you. Especially after he so openly called you and your brothers bastards. 

Most of the time he stayed hidden in his chambers, in the library, or in the courtyard training. When she would walk into any room it would cause Aemond to stop what he was doing and leave. During dinner he’d eat quickly to ask to be excused, Alicent hated that he would want to be kept away, she grew to dislike her step-grandchild but would not say anything.

The older she got, her beauty grew with her. Many lords would whisper of her beauty causing many ladies to envy her. They’d watch as she soared the sky with her dragon Tessarion an exact image of her mother when she was her age.  They were especially taken by her beautiful hair, no maiden in all of Westeros had two different colors of hair.

Her uncle took notice of how many lords would fawn over her and ask for her hand to dance. Snickering to himself when she would politely decline them, watching as they would sulk their way back to their seat. He knew of her early morning adventures, training in the courtyard at the crack of dawn before going on a flight blue dragon. He’d admire her from afar, a small grudge still held against her and her family.

She too noticed how much he had grown, no longer the scared little boy whom he brothers and Ageon would play tricks on, no longer the young boy who would sulk when it came to training with Ser Criston, no longer the boy she had fond memories with. 

He became a man.

A beautiful handsome young man, towering over many who stood before him. Her included. His hair was long, almost as long as hers, easy to spot in a crowded room. His stature and demeanor, strong and cold. He trained for days in and days out, studying for hours.  

The many chances she would try to talk to him, he’d keep it short, only humming or grunting in response. She would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt her, she tried to make amends, apologize for her brother’s actions. 

(Y/N) bored of taking part in her 18th name day celebration she slipped out of the great hall making her way to one of her favorite places in the castle. Walking into the library to grab a new book to read, usually it would be about her family history. The tales of her great-great-great-great grandparents never failed to amaze her.

Turning the corner a bit too quickly, not minding her surroundings, she ran into someone falling back slightly shutting your eyes tightly to avoid the embarrassment. The arm of the stranger wrapped around her waist, she sucked in a breath before slowly re-opening her eyes.

Aemond

Quickly she stood up straight “I’m sorry.” Oh gods fuck me, fuck me! Something you never had was your mother’s gracefulness. Also a bit clumsy, stumbling over your own foot. The way he looked down at you said many without him saying a word himself, gods you hated how your relationship had become.

“A thank you would suffice, excuse me.” before you could even thank him, he brushes past you. Your heart swells lightly, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what to do, unsure if you’ll regret this action later.

Fuck it.

Reaching forward you wrapped your hand around his wrist “Wait!” he pauses for a moment not tugging his wrist away. Just get it out, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s been so long since you’ve had a proper conversation with him.

“It mustn't be this way Ameond. Please, we were so close once.I miss talking to you, don’t you rem-“

He turned around in a flash, his wrist pulled away, his eye filled with fire “Mustn't be this way? Have you forgotten of what your bastard brother did to me?”

Anger coarsed your veins, you knew what the people of Westeros say. What they spin about your family specifically your mother and siblings. But it never bothered you because even if Ser Laenor wasn’t your father he still loved you all as though you were his own. It never mattered to you yet, it was such a sin to many.

“Don’t you dare call him a bas-“

He saw the moment to ignite that fire in you, he knew what he would say will hurt but he wants you to feel the pain he’s felt in the last few years. He’d be lying if he said he never watched you from afar, that he doesn’t miss your adventures together.

“It’s what you are though isn’t it? You just inherited your whore of a mother’s looks”

A loud smack echoed the room, if his mother found out about this she’d have your hands for this. But you didn’t care, no one slanders your family name. You’d have any man or ladies tongue cut for even speaking such slander, you knew your grandsire would too.

“How dare-“

“No, how dare you! Coming in here and telling me it mustn't be this way. Have you already forgotten what happened not too long ago? Don’t you hear what people whisper about me?!”

Many of the lords and ladies would point and whisper at Aemond with no self-respect whatsoever, gossiping about how he had one eye and wondered what took place of his eye underneath that brown leather patch. 

It twisted at her heart slightly, guilt sat at the bottom of her stomach. She would attempt to defend not only her brother’s action towards her uncle but she would try to defend him as well, telling many that she’d have their tongue if they spoke about the prince again.

“The one eyed prince who no one will bed. Of what his poor wife must endure, what lady would marry a cripple? Must I remind you, dear niece?”

Harshly he removed his eye patch, your breath catching in your throat. A beautiful sapphire in place of his eye, you wanted to touch it yet felt so frozen. You wanted to raise your hand to trace the scar that was left, he looked beautiful no, he looked like a god. 

 Aemond hummed at your lack of response, “I could make it even. No- I should make it even. Take your beauty away-” Your eyes widened at the words that just left his mouth, frozen yet again just as you were frozen that night at Driftmark. Frozen as you watched blood drip onto the dirt as Aemond’s screams echoed in the cave. 

“What is it that the people call you? Besides bastard? What is it that they call you as you parade around the keep?”

The New Delight.

Just as her mother was named “The Realm's Delight.” Many had said how she had taken after her mother, always making people smile and fawn over. She never asked for the attention, truly. She was just taught to be respectful and kind to everyone, though some ladies would say she was being a whore.

“Ah yes-” he retrieved his dagger from his side, bringing it between the two of you watching as your push yourself back till your back made contact with the bookshelf. Your heart hammered in your chest, beating loudly in your ears. He wouldn’t, would he? He had all these years, he wouldn’t dare.

 “The New Delight was it? Hm- would be quite a shame if i just-“

You shut your eyes tightly the feeling of a sharp dagger dragged against your side. Tracing your skin, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to let you know how you’re at his mercy, defenseless. His mother had asked that night for your brother’s eye but your grandsire quickly defended your mother and family, asking his wife to drop the matter. 

Forever leaving a bitter taste in his wife’s mouth.

“Go on. Take it, make it a gift to your mother.” you exhaled clutching onto your dress. The queen would be pleased and would final drop the grudge against your family. 

Especially pleased that it was your eye that was taken.

Aemond was taken aback, he expected her to weep and beg. He expected for her to push him away and run. Silently retreating the library and you, “Go on- Take-”

She opened her eyes to see no one standing in front of her, she felt her eyes swell with tears letting out a silent sob as slid down the bookcase. Little did she know Aemond stood outside the door listening to her sob. 

He felt his heart swell in sadness? Guilt? Before he could let it consume him, he walked away to his chambers.