#nothing prepares you to bury a sibling

[mildlyconfusedbibliophiles]

And one more addition, grief comes in waves. You get some moments where the wave is huge and you're completely drowning in it, and it feels like you'll never surface. and some moments where the wave dips, and you feel normal, great even - and as time goes on the waves get further and further apart, but they still come back, and you still have those moments, although fewer and further between where you feel like you're drowning and going to be swallowed completely, but it does pass.

And to quote my mum as she buried her youngest daughter whilst telling the funniest stories she could remember about a little girl who had a childhood filled with laughter, "I cant allow grief to last forever, I must laugh. I must."

You will, and must, have those happy moments. It is the only way we survive.

Btw, if you have not had tragedy dropped on you before, grief does fuck you up in unexpected and physical ways. If you can’t sleep or sleep more than expected or have more or reduced appetite, or energy goes weird— your brain just had a bunch of emotions dropped on it and sometimes it reacts by hitting every button in your brain. It will pass. Just try to not get too frustrated with yourself.

It’s also fine if you feel normal. Grief literally hits everybody differently, and some people are made to be able to to keep the farm going the day after a death, and some of us turn into sleepless gargoyles and get really into trying to help, and some of us are just unspeakably sad. Grief is weird. Be kind to yourself.

[kyseya]

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You - Part Eleven

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, smut, age gap, oral sex (fem recieving), delayed orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, cum eating (kinda?), allusions to knotting, angst. Minors DNI.

A/N: This would not have been written without you, Lovely 💛

There was a lot of arguing. The younger siblings demanded answers. Their parents tried to give none. Bill countered that they should know. That it was in everyone’s best interest to be prepared in case they too were interrogated. Fred suggested moving you. He flinched at the growling disagreement from Bill. Molly tried to argue he may be right, but George said Yaxley could be hoping for that. Fear causes people to make mistakes, he argued. 

“What exactly did he ask?” The table fell silent, looking towards you. But you were only looking at Arthur.

“Much the same as his father had asked at the wedding. Why you’d been there, where you’d been before, where you went after. He asked that if I heard anything about or from you, to tell him. Only him. And if I saw you," he looked at Bill who nodded for him to continue, "to tell you that he has someplace safe.”

The table erupted again with words like delusion and trap thrown around. 

"He's going to the twins next." The commotion died once more, all eyes on you.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Cillian." No. That wasn't right. The Cillian you knew wasn't a murderer. "At least, I know he was jealous of them back in school. Thought one of them had a thing for me." You'd nearly forgotten that. You looked between Fred and George. "He'll be more aggressive with you because of it."

Fred winked. "Don't worry 'bout us, love—

—we can handle him," George finished.

Bill's fist slammed on the table, making Ginny flinch. "This isn't a fucking joke!"

"But they need to act like it is," you countered. You kept your eyes on the twins. They needed to be prepared. They needed to know. "You've got to be as combative with him as he will be with you. Make it clear you have no intention to cooperate with him. If you act any differently it'll look suspicious to him."

Molly tapped her wand against the table, all the dishes lifting from the table. They flew to the kitchen, scraping themselves into the trash before settling into the sink. She followed them, waving her wand. Water and soap filled the sink. You’d forgotten magic could be used for something as mundane as dishes.

“That’s good to know,” George said, trying to ignore the uncertainty that had settled over the table with Molly’s abrupt end to dinner. Half the plates still had food.

“What if he brings his father?” Ginny asked.

“He won’t. Cillian has to be going behind his back trying to find me. Corbin wants me dead.”

Plates clattered in the kitchen. The Weasleys shared looks with each other.

Molly stood clutching the counter, staring out the window. "We should have all gone into hiding when we had a chance." Arthur came to her side and she allowed herself to be brought into his arms, burying her face in his chest. It hurt to see.

Ginny’s final day had been ruined. At least she’d be safe from Cillian’s questioning at Hogwarts. It would be too risky for him to go there. Even with Fred and George he’d have to be careful. Eyes would be everywhere in Diagon Alley with someone reporting back to someone who could report back to his father of his activities. That was if he wasn’t already being followed.

They left shortly after. Molly’s hug was a bit tighter than comfortable when she promised everything would be alright. Fred said he’d stop by again soon. Ginny said nothing, but squeezed your hand with watery eyes. You didn’t go outside to see them off, but as you looked at the clean kitchen you wish you had. There was nothing there to keep your hands busy. Magic had cleaned the dishes and put them in their place. It had wiped the counters. Swept the floors. Even the chairs had been pushed in. 

One pop. Then another. And then the door, steps, a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"Ginny got to enjoy most of her day. I wouldn't have been much fun if you'd told me before.” His hand fell off as you shrugged. “Besides, it’s better that they all know. So they’re prepared.”

“You really think he’s gonna go after them?”

“Cillian was jealous a lot.” Another thing you’d nearly forgotten. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t try to track down every guy that’s ever spoken to me.” Not the women though. He didn’t think Cho had counted. You turned and rested your head against his chest, his embrace welcome. The tension eased in your body.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, “they’ll be okay.”

—

Bill left early the next morning to see Ginny off, reluctantly leaving you in bed with a kiss and a promise to not to be gone long. You stayed in bed for a bit, but sleep never returned. 

The sun rose higher in the sky as you worked out in the garden. Molly had brought the wolfsbane stored in the Burrow’s shed, miscellaneous potion ingredients that had been collected from various Order members, and any seeds she could spare the day before. Professor Sprout’s lectures echoed through your mind as you planted new seeds and replanted old plants into neat lines. You’d have to figure out how to build a greenhouse for some of the more difficult plants. There was plenty of sand to make glass.

When all that could be done in the small garden was done, it was still a quarter till ten. How you missed the hours it would take on the farm.

Your hair was your next task. That would take time. Washing, brushing, using your favorite hair potion Ginny had been thoughtful enough to bring. You considered styling it without the aid of magic to pass the time, but decided against it.

As your hair righted itself, your thoughts drifted back to the wolfsbane. Maybe if you could get in contact with Charlie, he could get some dragon blood. And maybe Hagrid could get some Occamy eggs. The rest would be easy enough to get your hands on. Then you could finally get a real attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus. 

Until then, you had other things you needed to start working on. Potions and salves to make now that you had the ingredients. 

That was how Bill found you a while later. Bent over a cauldron on the stove, hair covered to protect it from the steam of the Murtlap Essence. “Mum made treacle tart,” he said, sliding a pastry box on the counter. “And brownies.” Another box. “And some biscuits.” A third box. “She bakes a lot when she’s worried. I don’t think she slept at all.”

Your shoulders deflated. She’d have been worried anyway, with Ginny off to Hogwarts, but with the threat of Cillian hanging over her sons it must be so much worse.

“She wanted to know if she can drop by a couple times a week while I’m at work.”

“Why?”

“She wants to make sure you're doing alright. Thinks you have to be lonely here. She won’t say it, but she’s gonna be lonely too now that Ginny’s gone.” His arm slid around your waist. “I told Fred and George they should come by sometimes too.”

Your gaze snapped to his face, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you need a life outside of me. And I know my family isn’t really that, but I’ll see if I can get the other Order members to come by. Get them checked up and all that.”

“Do you really think that’s the greatest idea? You could barely stand having Kingsley here. Thought you were gonna tear Fred’s head off yesterday.”

“I’ll still get you to myself at night, right?”

“Yeah but,” you tried to explain, “are you sure you’re up for that? If it could make your symptoms worse, especially with the full moon coming, then mayb—“

His kiss cut you off.

“Like I said,” he breathed against your lips, “I’ll have you to myself at night. That’s enough.”

“But everything with Cillian, is it really safe?”

“It’s safer, I think, than you being here alone all the time. And we’ll come up with a plan in case something goes wrong. Practice some defensive spells, figure out a place to go.”

You kissed him softly. “Thank you.” 

“Oh don’t thank me,” he said, his teasing tone setting in, “it’s about time you started pulling your weight. Can’t have you lounge on the beach all day in some provocative little swimsuit, can we?”

You scoffed. “It was not provocative!”

“Have to disagree with you there, love.” His nose brushed against your cheek. “Everything you wear is provocative.”

“Guess I’ll stop wearing anything then.”

His groan had you smiling. “Please tell me you’re nearly done,” he begged.

“It’s gotta simmer for another couple hours,” he groaned again, “but it’ll be fine on its own fo—OH! Bill!”

It seemed he was determined to make it a habit of throwing you over his shoulder. Only this time he bypassed the couch and kicked the door to the bedroom open. You bounced against the mattress, giggling as you removed the hair covering. He was eager, giddy even, as he pulled off his clothes. He crawled up the bed, smiling into a messy kiss before helping to remove your own. 

His lips trailed down your neck. Teeth and tongue teased your collarbone. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth found your breasts. A soft moan slipped out. He alternated between them, nipping and licking until you were squirming. When you asked him to stop teasing, he nuzzled into your neck and laughed. "I've got the patience today, love."

It clicked what he meant a moment before he slid down. Your groan turned high and breathless as his tongue glided between your folds. "Oh fuck," you gasped, hips jumping. His hand held you in place. You whimpered. This wasn't fair. His tongue traced a lazy pattern that had your legs shaking. You wanted to grab him and pull him closer. But he was unmoving. The pleasure was agonizing. He would go faster then slower. Fast, then slow. You felt the edge creeping closer and then he'd pull back and nip at the softness of your thighs.

He was merciless. He was enjoying himself. His groans were sinful, his hands greedy as the touched every part of you but the place you needed them most, his pace never slowing.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking.

Bill chuckled. "Please, what, love?" he asked, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

"Please stop teasing me. Please, let me cum. Please."

"So desperate for me, eh?" His fingers pushed into you. Rubbing and searching until they curled against a spot that had you seeing white. He hummed in delight, letting his tongue flick over your clit. The knot in your stomach snapped, his name falling from your lips over and over.

He didn't stop or slow as the high faded.  

"Bill," you cried. It was too much. You pushed at his head, trying to get away from the touch. You were too sensitive. His arm wrapped around your thigh and pulled you closer.

"One more, love."

"No, no, I can't. Bill, I can't."

"One more, love. Just one more," he promised. His hand was relentless. Fingers working that same spot. Your muscles tensed. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Your vision blurred. The pleasure too intense, body locked and trembling. It was euphoric. When the spasming finally subsided you gulped down air.

Bill crawled back up, smiling proudly. "Beautiful," he said. The taste of you clung to his lips as he kissed you again. Your arms looped around his neck. You wanted more. Needed more. You pulled him closer. He settled between your legs. The head of his cock teased your entrance, making you jolt. Still sensitive. You whimpered into his mouth.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned.

Your legs wrapped around his and encouraged his hips forward. "Not enough."

His nose bumped against yours. "Godric, I love you."

He slid inside, inch by inch. Slowly. Your bodies pressed flush together. A gasp escaped when his hips finally met yours. His head fell to the crook of your neck, and he stilled for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then his hips pulled back and he began a slow pace. It was gentle. His lips caressing every part of your skin they could reach. Your hands trailed down his back. The pleasure built slowly until your climax hit again. 

He kissed your jaw. "More?" he whispered.

"More."

The pace picked up. Slow became steady. You whimpered as he continued to fill you.

"So perfect," he groaned.

His hips stuttered and picked up speed. You could feel another orgasm approaching. You dug your nails into his skin, holding on tight. His breathing grew heavy, his kisses messy and wet. His hips slammed against yours and you tumbled over the edge crying his name. He followed, burying his face in your neck as his hips slowed and came to a stop.

Bill collapsed beside you and pulled you close. "Think you could go for five?" he panted. You swatted his chest. He laughed and kissed your hair. You didn't want to move. Your eyes were drooping in exhaustion when you realized you had to.

"The dittany," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him. You went to stand, but your legs wobbled.

"I'll get it," Bill laughed, guiding you back down. He left with a kiss, not bothering to slip anything on. He's not gone long and he didn't come back empty handed. He was gentle with the warm washcloth as he wiped up his spend that had seeped out of you. But you were still sensitive. And vocal. A wicked gleam in his eyes warned you it wasn't over.

"What are you—" your words cut off in a sharp cry as his tongue dragged across your cunt again.

"Cleaning up my mess" he said before diving back in. He was thorough, tongue sliding inside you and swirling around. You were exhausted and sure you couldn't give him what he wanted, but he wasn't deterred.

He licked and nipped and sucked. His name fell from your lips.

"Please," you sobbed.

He pulled back, wiping his chin. "Please what?"

"I can't. Please."

He hummed, considering, and dove back in. You gripped the sheets, withering under him. He was relentless. It was overwhelming. Every muscle tensed, the knot in your stomach coiling tight. You cried out. It was blissful torture. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. You whimpered as his tongue eased you down.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back. "Six?"

"Don't you fucking dare." There was no ire in your tone.

"Need me to grab you anything?" he offered with a sly grin. "Since you can't walk?"

"Shut up." You threw a pillow at him. He laughed, dodging the assault.

"Be back in a minute."

He was true to his word, returning with two glasses of water, the box of treacle tart, and a fork. He handed you a glass and climbed in bed next to you. He left another kiss against your forehead. It felt normal. As if you'd been together for years. As if you were together. He offered you the first bite of the tart. A part of you ached. 

—

Molly came the next morning after Bill had left for work. She was so different from your mother, yet so much the same. They both had to keep busy when things were stressful. Something to do to keep their mind clear. Your father wasn’t like that. He liked to sit and think and plan. 

She left not long after Bill returned home. You worried she’d noticed the way Bill nearly greeted you with a kiss. But she said nothing about it. You’re not sure if that made you feel better or worse.

—

Tonks popped in for only an hour the day after. Her conversation stayed far from werewolves or the upcoming full moon. It’s only as she was preparing to leave she asked, “Think we’ll see Bill anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so.”

She didn’t comment more on it. She knew. You felt a prickle of annoyance after her departure. She knew and said nothing. Not before, not when Bill was struggling, not now. Next time you’d ask for—no, demand answers. It was only fair. For Bill’s health.

—

You’re alone the two days leading up to the full moon. Bill was insatiable. You woke up the morning of with Bill’s rushed pleas in your ear.

“Need you, love. Please.”

It’s different. Less controlled. Like he’d been starved and presented a buffet. He’s desperate. “Cum for me, please. Need to, fuck love, need to feel you squeeze me, please, please, please.” You complied happily. 

—

You paced the living room. He was supposed to be home an hour before. You didn’t question him when he finally appeared. With the way he kissed you, it couldn’t have been anyone else.

He was rough. His hands bruising, possessive.

You don't remember making it to the bed or removing your clothes, but your there under him. His mouth is on your skin, biting and sucking. There would be bruises tomorrow. He buried himself inside you without resistance. The sound you let out was embarrassing. It only encouraged him. He fucked into you harder, his hand sliding between your bodies.

It's verging on painful. "Bill," you moaned, clawing at his shoulders. You don't want him to stop. His fingers circled your clit.

"Need you to cum," he groaned. His lips found yours again. His fingers worked faster. "I can't" he cut himself off with a growl, "can't hold back. Fuck, please cum." Your back arched and nails dug into his skin. He cursed. You cried, clenching around him. His hips slammed against yours once more, and then he stilled.

But something was wrong.

There was more pressure than there should be. You can't focus on it. Your eyes were too heavy. "Bill?" It came out groggy. His weight crashed into you. You were barely able to adjust him to allow yourself to breathe before you slipped into unconsciousness.

Author's Note: He said "I love you" and our girl assumed he meant in the friendly "Wow, you're so awesome and cool!" kinda way and not in the "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." kinda way. He's definitely having his own internal freakout about her nonresponse to it.

Next

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[harzilla]

So I got two asks related to the lost sibling AU and I decided to put them together. Nothing is set in stone in this AU.

In the famous words of Bartok the bat, Can only end in tears!

If we're talking the bioparents/bio family then a lot of them are shocked, thrilled, even in tears. The reactions vary depending on the family.

🌹Riddle struggles with actually telling his mother. His relationship with his mother is extremely complicated. He just had his entire world view turned upside down and coming to realize his mother has been abusive, and on top of that he finds out that he nearly killed his twin. It takes a long time for Riddle to finally tell his mother and Yuu's there to support him. The two hold hands as Riddle reveals the truth to their mother along with the DNA test that proves they're a match. Riddle's mother immediately going with the idea of Yuu moving back home and learning to be a proper Roseheart. Maybe even hating Yuu's adopted family and thinking they kidnapped Yuu. It's just snowballs into this huge fight between Riddle, Yuu, and their mother. It takes a long, long time before the relationship between parent and children is repaired.

🦁 The second ask specifically talks about Leona's family. While I think it was never stated if Farena was there(but let's just say he was), we know Cheka was. Cheka is, absolutely thrilled. "Who's this? You're a lion beastman too? Are you from the sunset savannah? You look a lot like Papa and Unca!" Leona pulling him off Yuu and grumbling at Cheka for overwhelming them. When Farena finds out he almost charges into the infirmary but Leona keeps him out. Yuu's been through enough already, they don't need to be dealing with Farena too. It isn't until Cloud Calling that Leona FINALLY introduced Yuu to his family in person and only because Yuu asks him to. He has no interest in dragging Yuu into the royal mess of his life and he's willing to ignore summons from his brother to do it. Farena's thrilled of course but Yuu's not exactly happy seeing the way Leona has been treated by the people he should be able to trust. Leona actually has to reel Yuu back from their anger towards Farena, Kifaji, and everybody else. Farena's feelings are mixed but he's happy to realize that Leona has somebody who genuinely sees him for himself. He realizes Leona's closer to Yuu in the short time he's known them, then he is to Farena.

Oh man. So I headcanon, at least in this AU, that mer mamas are fiercely protective of their kids and bigger then their male counterparts. I think Azul's mama and the twin's mama would both show up at the school because, hell or high water they are going to meet their long lost child! No noisy crowman is gonna stop them!

🦈🐬 The twins mama in particular is downright scary. Imagine this really tall lady showing up at NRC. She's really nice to the kids but when she meets Crowley she gets that look on her face and tone and ohh yes, now you realize that she's far more scary then the twins if she wants to be. She squeezes the twins excited to see them but they absolutely have to bring her to Yuu. I see it like when Sophie and her mom are reunited in Howl's moving castle. Excitedly yelling "my baby!" While practically tackling Yuu, crying her eyes out. Holding Yuu's face and bombarding them with questions. Were you taken care of? You look so small! Were you being fed enough? Do we need to send you an allowance? These clothes look dreadful we must get you a new wardrobe. Worried Mama mode activated. Mama bought ready to drag Yuu home but compromises by Yuu coming home during spring break. At least it gives them time to prepare Yuu's room.

🐍 Now, Jamil's family is probably the only ones who actually don't know. Jamil is willing to bury the fact that Yuu is his sibling because, he realizes that if he tells the truth, he's potentially locking Yuu into a lifetime of servitude. There's only a few people on campus who know the truth. Kalim absolutely knows but he promised Jamil he wouldn't reveal it, but it's like how he was willing to fight against Jade's UM because his conviction to keeping Jamil's UM hidden is that strong. Kalim would love to see the two being siblings openly, but he still tries in his own Kalim way

👑 Ohh, this one's interesting. So we know zero things about Vil's mother. So, in this AU, Vil's father Eric used a surrogate. The thing is, the surrogate hid the fact she was pregnant with twins(listen if Lilia can just find a baby and people are chill with it then we can headcanon how adoption and surrogacy works in Twst). Carefully orchestrating it so Eric only knew about one baby. Thus when the twins were born she handed over Vil and disappeared with Yuu. Nobody can track down this woman or the other baby. Eric and Vil never even knew another baby existed. So, imagine Eric's surprise when Vil calls him after book 6 asking if his father knew about a second child. Yuu finally getting to meet Eric in person, and he apologized to Yuu because he didn't get to see them grow up. Eric asking Yuu if it's okay for him to be part of their life. Probably one of the few times Vil has seen his father cry and possibly vice versa.

💀 Cue another excited mama. Oh Idia wants to not involve Yuu in the mess that is the Shroud family curse. But kind of hard, when their hair ignited into the signature shroud flaming hair during Idia's overblot in the middle of S.T.Y.X. She's so absolutely excited that she's trying to ask Yuu 100 different questions, you mean to tell me the Shroud curse didn't developed in Yuu until almost adulthood? Mama is very interested to know about Yuu and their life. Idia almost pities Yuu and Ortho's so excited because his family is all together again! Papa Shroud is much calmer at least.

🐉 Oh I've delved a lot into Malleus and Yuu. I was actually thinking what if... during book 7 when they're in the memories and meet Maleanor. What if she orders everybody to leave except for Yuu. Yuu's so confused because this woman before them feels so familiar, they just watched her nearly strike everybody down with lighting while she yelled at them but the vibe is completely different now. Maleanor being surprisingly gentle with Yuu. Through whatever magic it may be, Maleanor can tell. Yuu crying because Maleanor calls them her precious hatchling and tells them how much they've grown. It's after Malleus' overblot that Yuu finally gets to meet Maleficia. Maleficia who says that Yuu truly looks so much like Revern. Maleficia who welcomes Yuu home.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A single photo puts half of the truth out into the world. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fingering, swearing WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Nineteen - Mexico 2022 You woke to a delicious smell and felt the strains of the free practices deep in your bones and every muscle protested the movements needed to get out of bed. Giving up, you laid there for a minute more, mentally preparing for the final free practice and qualifying race, before tossing the blankets back. 

You probably looked like a zombie the way you stumbled your way bleary eyed through the hotel suite to find Charles cooking breakfast. 

“Good morning, baby.” Lando grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into his lap while he waited patiently at the table.

“Just morning,” you grumbled with a yawn. “Nothing is good before noon.”

“I can think of one thing,” he teased as his fingertips traced the curve of your leg.

“Feeling a little tender, chérie?” Charles asked with a kiss to your forehead as he placed two plates on the table. “We can give you a massage after breakfast. Bon appétit.”

“Okay, maybe there’s a few good things in the morning,” you conceded before opening your mouth for the forkful of food Lando offered. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Sorry, love, Zak’s invited me and Danny to a charity event,” Lando apologised with a pout. “I’m sure Charles can take care of you all on his lonesome.”

“Of course,” Charles said with a soft smile, “but I’d rather you be with us.”

You shifted on his lap to face him and kissed your way along his jaw to his lips. “Me too.”

“Me three,” he murmured when you pulled back to finish eating.

As promised, after breakfast you found yourself lying face down on the bed with massage oil drizzled over your skin. Heavenly moans filled the pillow your face was buried in as the two of them found every knot in your muscles and eased them away with their strong hands. 

“I hope you don’t make sounds like that for Kristian,” Lando teased. He had given up helping Charles working his way along your body and instead parted your legs to focus his touch on one particular place. 

“Can’t say he’s ever fingered me,” you said before laughing at the soft spank he responded with. “Yet.” Heat burned across your ass at the smack he dealt and your yelp turned to a moan as he soothed the sensitive skin with his palm before kissing it softly. 

“I think our Lando is a little possessive of you, chérie.”

You squirmed on the mattress as his fingers worked their way back into you to find your cunt soaked for him. “I like it.”

“I’m not possessive, I just don’t want to share with you anyone else.”

You lifted your head from the pillow and found Charles’ lips pressed lightly as he tried not to laugh but the amusement was thick in his voice, “That’s what possessive means, mon cher.”

You felt sorry for Charles as he was given a three-place grid penalty for something that wasn’t entirely his own fault. It was easy for the stewards to say he could have used his wing mirrors to see George coming up behind him on his flying lap but the window of view was so small that the stars had to align to actually see anything and react in time. 

His engineer should have warned him.

The urge to go to Ferrari and find him almost won but Max called out before you could leave the garage. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you said as you scratched the nape of your neck nervously, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is it a date?” You hated how intense his scrutiny was and his eyes narrowed the longer the question went unanswered. 

“Does it matter?”

“You’re dodging the question, zusje.” Max crossed his arms and looked over your shoulder. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” Your mood turned sour as you heard Jos’ voice behind you. “Are you coming to dinner?”

Max shook his head. “She’s going on a date.”

“And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t choose to spend my evening with you,” you said as you turned to face your father. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Jos asked with a tick in his jaw. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Let’s list off the reasons. 1) it’s none of your fucking business, 2) it’s none of your fucking business, 3) it’s none of your-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Max growled as he dropped his arm over your shoulder and turned you away. “We’ll talk about this later, go calm down somewhere.”

You stormed out of the garage without a goodbye and straight into Ferrari’s next door, ignoring the looks they gave you as you climbed the stairs to where the driver’s rooms were. 

Carlos had just opened his door as you were passing it and he looked a little dishevelled and disappointed as he sighed to himself, and you could only imagine how much worse Charles was feeling. “Tough quali for you guys,” you said as you caught his attention and accepted the hug he offered. “How’s he doing?”

“Pissed off. Xavi is probably hiding in a hole somewhere by now. I would if I were him,” he huffed a humourless laugh. “It’s good that you're going out to dinner, I don’t think he would leave his room otherwise.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You gave Carlos a little wave as he went on his way before you knocked on Charles' door. “Hey, it’s me.”

The door opened before you had even finished speaking and you slipped inside quietly as you saw the sullen look on his face. Needing to comfort him, you caught the door with your shoe and kicked it shut so you could cup his face in your hands and pull him into a kiss. 

“I forgo-” You froze against Charles as the door swung open and Carlos filled the doorway, his jaw slack as he stared wide-eyed. “What the fuck, mate,” he hissed quietly as he stepped inside and closed the door shut. “You know Max is going to kill you, right?”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Charles muttered as he stepped back and took your hand instead. “What did you forget?”

“Huh? Shit, I forgot.” Carlos frowned and looked back at the door. “So…Just friends, ay?”

“Not just friends,” you chuckled, squeezing Charles’ hand. “But not ready to go public just yet.”

“Because of Max?”

“Because of Lando,” Charles admitted. 

“Ohhhh, because he’s been in love with her forever and you got the girl,” Carlos nodded to himself as he spoke only to stop when you laughed. 

“Because we are dating Lando too, and it will be a PR nightmare to explain.” You laughed as Carlos’ mouth dropped open and he pointed between the two of you. “Me, Charles and Lando, yes.”

“Woooow,” he laughed as he recovered and shook his head once more. “Max is 100% going to kill the both of you. Nice knowing you, mi amigo.”

“Thanks for your support, mate,” Charles drawled sarcastically and reached for his keys. “Let’s go, amour.”

“Can I just ask…” Carlos leaned back against the door so Charles couldn’t reach the handle. Crossing his arms, Charles rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for the question. “Does she top you like in the driver standings?”

“First Pierre, now you, putain de merde,” Charles sighed and pushed Carlos out of the way as he laughed. 

But then the laughter dried up and he turned to you offended at the news. “Pierre knew before me?”

“Since Suzuka,” Charles said with a smirk knowing it would irk him more.

Carlos reeled back and his eyes widened. “What the fuck, and that pendejo didn’t tell me. How long have you been together?”

“Just before Monza.”

“Before Mon…Monza! Ay!” Carlos dragged a hand down his face. “I thought we were friends, and Lando too? That guy has never kept a secret in his life.”

You looked at Charles with a giggle. “So dramatic, is he always like this?”

“Mhmm, try being teammates with him,” Charles replied with a roll of his eyes. “He just needs time to process, and I want to get out of this place before I cross paths with Xavi.”

“Kristian would have a coronary if he saw this. I’m so full but it’s too good to waste.” The Italian restaurant Charles had found in the centre of Mexico City was beautiful but the menu was definitely not suited to your pre-race diet. “Is this your plan to slow me down tomorrow?”

Charles stroked your hand beneath the table. He had managed to get the reservation for a secluded corner booth hidden behind a thin thatch privacy wall, but you still tried to remember to be careful. “Nothing can slow you down, amour.”

“Not even the metaphorical baggage I carry around?” 

“What?” Charles choked on a laugh and had to take a drink of water to stop coughing.

“Something Lando said a while ago.” You chuckled at the memory as you twirled more creamy fettuccine around your fork. “Apparently I have daddy issues, along with his temper.”

“You’re nothing like Jos.” Charles shook his head adamantly. “Back in karting my family would come and cheer me on and I remember when Max came anything less than first place, Jos wouldn’t even clap for him. He didn’t want anything to do with him unless he was on the top of the podiums.”

“I know what an asshole my father is, you don’t need to convince me,” you muttered quietly, feeling sorry for Max’s upbringing that was vastly different to yours.

“I’ve watched you cheer for Max from the pits when you’ve had to retire early. I’ve seen how concerned you get when he’s in a crash,” he said, bringing your attention back to the present. “You’re nothing like Jos.”

Unable to articulate how grateful you were to hear those words, you instead chose an action. Charles froze with surprise for a moment when you kissed him before instinct took over and his fingers curled around your nape to deepen it further. The white wine that had been paired with the pasta was warming your body but not as much as Charles’ hand was as it crept up beneath your dress.

A throat cleared beside the table and Charles pulled back with a sigh as a waiter stood awkwardly holding a dessert menu. 

“No, we’ll take the bill, thank you,” Charles said before the young man could offer the specials. 

“You seem to be in a rush to leave all of a sudden,” you teased in his ear as the waiter left with Charles’ credit card. 

You watched his teeth bite his bottom lip before his eyes trailed down your body. “I want dessert, amour, just nothing they can offer.”

The car ride back to the hotel was tantalisingly slow and it felt like the air conditioner was set on high with the heated looks shared between you. It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were able to tear your eyes away from him and you saw the name on the ID.

“Shh, it’s Max,” you warned before answering the call. “Hey bro, how’d dinner with the donor go?”

“When were you going to tell me you were dating Charles?”  The air in your lungs froze and you knew Charles had heard the exclamation by the tightening of his fists around the steering wheel.

You knew there would be alerts going off on Kristian’s phone as the Aura ring on your finger picked up the sudden spike in your heart rate. “Wh-what makes you think that?” 

“Because you said you were going on a date and now I’m seeing pictures of you and Charles kissing.” 

A tirade of curse words tumbled from your lips, colourful enough to make Charles blush as he indicated to pull into the hotel valet entrance. It wasn’t unusual for any of the drivers to spend time outside of racing together but now the crowd waiting seemed to have a new hunger. 

“Keep driving,” you urged as you saw the cameras flashing. “Go!”

“Pull Charles on the phone,” Max growled. “We need to have words.”

“Fuck off, you’re not my father so don’t act like it.”

“In that case, here.” 

“Don’t you even think about-” you heard the phone exchange hands and hit your head against the window when you heard Jos’ voice.

“What do you think you are playing at? Do you know how this reflects on the family?”

You ended the call and turned the phone off so neither of them could ring back. “The audacity of that man! I’m sorry, Cha, I fucked up.”

“Amour,” Charles said softly as he reached across and took your shaking hand. “It will be alright, we will figure it out together.”

“Shit, Lando!” You rushed to turn your phone back on and saw the missed calls from Max, Jos and even Vicky - which was a low blow since you would have answered your little sister’s call if you had seen it. “He’s not answering.”

“He is probably still at the charity dinner,” Charles reasoned as he stroked his thumb over your hand gently. “We can’t just drive around all night, we will have to go back to the hotel at some point.”

“I know…this just changes, well, everything.”

A smile tipped up Charles’ lips as he reached a stop light and looked across to you. “It doesn’t change one thing; I love you.”

Click here for part five.

[itsnoones-stuff]

Do you think they know?

Masterlist

Summary // you’ve been secretly dating Five for a month without suspicion but one morning could change everything.

//

Five groans lightly, using his free hand to rub his eyes as his other hand wraps tighter around your waist, the sun seeping through the curtains waking you both. There was nothing you loved more than spending the morning cuddling in bed with Five, it was the only time you two can really be together. No one else in the family knows what you two have been doing, you’ve become so good at hiding it they think the two of you hate each other. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“We should get up princess” Five mumbles, his voice deep and rough, you loved his morning voice. “No” you mumble back, letting out a chuckle as you bury your head further into his chest. “Yes princess” he chuckles to himself, preparing to get out of bed, you hold onto him tighter moaning at the idea of leaving the bed. He sighs, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, “I know, I’m sorry but at least one of us has to get up” he’s right. You know he’s right. You loosen your grip with a huff, watching as he stands from the bed. Throwing his shirt on and buttoning it up, he turns to you, giving you a soft smile “I know princess but you know what will happen if we stay in bed all day”. One thing about Five is that he’s always right. You hate it. “Fine” you say defeated “I’ll see you tonight?” You ask, looking up at the sweet boy “of course” he coes, turning to face the door as he puts his pants back on. “I’ll see you soon princess” he winks, sending flutters through you, before heading to the door and for the kitchen. You watch him leave, carefully closing the door behind him.

Walking down the hall you start to hear your siblings arguing, you stop, trying to find out what they’re saying. “Just admit it Five, we all know” know what? You think, carefully stepping closer as the argument continues, “I’m not going to admit to anything Allison because there is nothing to admit” Five fires back, you can feel his frustration, “nothing’s going on huh?” Diego pipes up, your interest only increasing “then explain why Klaus saw you two this morning” your heart stopped at his words, you’ve been caught. It was nice whilst it lasted, you thought. “I don’t know what Klaus thinks he saw but he’s high right now” Five snaps back “he doesn’t even know what he saw” he’s mad. Really mad. Klaus scoffs in protest, he is high but he knows what he saw.

The bickering continues some more before you decide you’ve heard enough, you decide to walk in like nothing happened, watching as your family all fall silent and stare as you make your entrance. “Morning” you coo, heading to the coffee maker “what are you all arguing about?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching as they all become flustered at the question. Silence quickly filling the room, you let out a soft sigh as you pour your coffee. “Well” Luther clears his throat, ignoring Diego’s attempts to silence him “we we’re talking about how…” his words drift off. “Are you two fucking?” Allison asks, folding her arms over her chest as both you and Five choke on your drinks, “Allison!” Diego scolds his sister, you can’t help but chuckle.

“No, we’re not fucking Allison” you snapped back after a moment, shaking your head at the idea. “Is that what you were all arguing about?” You add, looking around the room, no one can make eye contact with you, not even Five. “Maybe” Luther mumbles, looking around at his siblings, you laugh in response, it was the only thing you could think to do. “Why would you all care anyway?” You ask, instantly regretting your choice of words, your siblings all look around before looking to you “because” Allison sighs “because?” You ask, pushing for an answer “because you’re brother and sister, that’s weird!” She shouts, clearly forgetting. You turn to her, a smile prominent on your face. “Oh hunny” you chuckle “those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” you were right but it was kind of harsh. You watch as the others try not to laugh, holding in your own.

You finish the last of your coffee, taking it in one swig before placing the empty cup in the sink and standing straight. Clearing your throat you wrap your hands around your chest “well” you speak, grabbing everyone’s attention, “since you all think we’re fucking, I guess we might as well do just that”. Allison scoffs as the rest of your family look at you with wide eyes, Five can’t wipe the smug grin off his face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right princess, might as well” his words were like hunny, your body fluttered at the idea. Taking Five’s hand you cheerfully walk to your room, leaving your family pick their jaws up off the floor. Guess there’s no point in hiding it anymore, right?

//

[mediumgayitalian]

If there’s one thing Will is, it’s committed to the bit.

Is there, perhaps, a touch of regret in his heart as he shivers, freezing, clad in nothing but his t-shirt and cargo shorts? Had he been told, before he left his cabin, by his long-suffering siblings that he was going to regret not wearing a sweater? Was the none-too-gentle reminder sixty-four percent of the reason he’d stubbornly refused the sweater he’d originally been planning on wearing in the first place?

Yes, yes, and no, surprisingly; take that, predictability allegations. He’s spontaneous as shit.

(Eight-three percent.)

(Whatever.)

He walks under a shadowy tree, briefly enveloping him in a deeper cold. He tries and fails to hold back a shudder.

“You’re cold,” says a critical voice to his left.

“I’ve never experienced even a mild case of hypothyroidism-borne boreal temperature intolerance even one time in my life, di Angelo, so check and mate.”

Unfortunately, the second half of his sentence is garbled by both his chattering teeth and his throat beginning to close. Curse you, Apollonian inability to lie. Will has people to gaslight, and a reputation to protect.

“You’re an idiot.”

Will wheezes. After three or four attempts, and the threat from his brain to his lungs that he will self-tracheotomize, really, he will, just try and fuck around cause you will sure as shit find out, bitch, he manages to clear his airways enough to employ his vocal chords (which, actually, are inaptly named. They are not chords, they are membranophones. Obviously).

“Nuh uh.”

“You really are an idiot. A frozen one.” Nico huffs. There is the sound of rustling, and for a moment Will is blindingly jealous of his friend’s night vision. He wants to snoop around in the dark to identify rustling sounds. How come he only glows when he’s embarrassed? He gets the stupidest Apollo powers. “Take my coat.”

Before Will can do much as protest, a heavy, undoubtedly warm jacket is shoved in his pockets.

“If you don’t wear it I’ll shadow travel to Slovakia,” Nico threatens. “And it’s winter for them right now, too, so I’ll pop out and immediately succumb to the elements.”

Will’s turn to be huffy, he slides the stupid jacket onto his arms. Immediately, he’s filled with a warmth so potent he feels as if he can almost fix his many mental problems. It’s glorious.

“Jacket smells like you, stink-face,” he says instead. He buries his nose in the collar and takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes as he savours the smell of woodsmoke, leather, and, amusingly, a little bit of oregano.

“Remind me to stab you tomorrow morning. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days,” Will argues, but dutifully makes a mental note.

Nico seems pleased.

They finally break through the woods’ borders, stepping into the torchlight of camp, late evening. Will spots three couples sucking face behind their cabin. He then spies thrice as many Hermes kids up to nefarious deeds, such as attaching timed fireworks to windows and doorways for a fun morning surprise. Will makes a mental note, under the stabbing reminder, to prepare burn salve tomorrow morning. And to hide Cecil in his office for his own protection, because he’s a good friend like that.

“Thank you for getting herbs with me,” Will says, turning to Nico. He smiles, trying to pour as much gratitude into his voice as he can. “I hate going alone.”

“Yeah,” says Nico, stiffly. He looks everywhere but Will’s face. When Will does not look away, he glances over, scowling at Will’s broadening grin. “Whatever, Solace. Don’t be so needy, next time.”

Tactfully, Will refrains from mentioning that he had not asked for Nico’s accompaniment at all, actually, and was halfway to the forest with a list of ingredients when Nico had shown up, red-faced, and snatched Will’s list clean out of his hands and muttered something about incompetence and monster baiting fools.

“I still appreciate it,” he says diplomatically, and then, because he is an asshole and also struggles with impulse control, he leans down and pecks Nico’s forehead. “Smooch of gratitude,” he explains when Nico freezes, facial expression resembling that of a squished pear.

“Ha nngh mfgh,” Nico says after a moment. Or perhaps he said hangry muffins, Will’s not sure, sometimes his hearing aids go wonky.

“Indeed,” he says anyway. He leans down to smooch Nico’s forehead again, because it was nice, and because he didn’t get stabbed the first time. “See you in the morning, Neeks. Love you bunches and bunches.”

“Hngh daga,” Nico responds, and when Will pouts he clears his throat and rectifies, “I love you…too?”

Will nods, satisfied. “Yes, exactly. Goodnight.”

He jogs off, waving. It isn’t until he gets back to his cabin and is immediately accosted by his siblings that he realises that he has stolen Nico’s jacket.

“Hm.” He glances down at it. It really is a wonderful jacket. And, plus, Nico didn’t give him a return date, or anything, so it’s probably fine if he keeps it a little longer.

He doesn’t want to get cold, after all.

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part seven

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.” 

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

"Rhaenyra, you are an angel." you chuckled settling into the passenger seat. Her car was luxurious on the inside, one of those minivans that could comfortably seat all her sons. "Oh, it's nothing, your apartment is on the way anyways." she replied with a smile.

You couldn't help but recognize the similarities between her and your boyfriend. They were half-siblings but judging from their faces, they could be mother and son. She glances at you, sensing your silence. "Are you alright?" she asked in a motherly tone.

"It's just - you look like Aemond." you blurted out, a thin-lipped smile ghosts her lips. It was a compliment, but she didn't appreciate it. "We both look like our grandmother, Alyssa." she shakes her head. You had no idea about the past.

She wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

"So that's the name of his grandmother! He never told me. He never tells me about his family." you looked down, realizing that you've probably shared too much.

"There's a possibility that he didn't know - our father never shared about the family anyways. I learnt all of this from Daemon." Rhaenyra reluctantly defended her brother.

For a second you contemplated asking her about their father. Aemond has told you stories about the abuse that he befell, could Rhaenyra provide more insight on your boyfriend's past? You shake those thoughts away, he told you that Rhaenyra was their father's favorite. She wouldn't understand.

"You know - the family's glad that Aemond has you. He's been unsociable these past few years. He never gives us updates, never talks to us, we thought that he was dead - or worst, in prison." Rhaenyra breathed, there was still a part of her heart that loved her baby brother - though that love was buried deep now.

"Prison?" you raised an eyebrow, laughing at the notion. "He was in prison before Tirano. Two-years, and for a crime he didn't commit." she continued not fully sure if Aemond was all that innocent. "He's never told me 'bout that before." you mumbled.

Was there another side of your boyfriend that you didn't know about?

"Well, according to the court documents. He found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. He beat her up then the paramour went marching to our house. The paramour died. Alicent was strangely calm then," Rhaenyra narrated, as if it was something that the entire town already knew about.

"You told me that he was innocent. What really happened?" you inquired and she shrugs. "- I don't know what really happened, but he had the perfect alibi. He says that he already broke up with the girl and she came to him all bruised up. The paramour allegedly killed the girlfriend. Aegon was a witness. It all happened down at our old house." she informed.

You slumped on your seat.

You didn't know what to believe.

"- when my brother was younger, he used to be so kind. He'd make me cereal and prepare the uniform that I used for school. I don't know what happened to us, why we grew apart." she pondered with a bitter chuckle, reminiscing a past where you weren't present.

"I thought after that trip to Tirano, our family would grow closer, but we all grew estranged. I'm glad that you're here, that he's here too." she turned to look at you, speaking with the mind of a sister, one that grew up Aemond - not with the mind of a Queen whose son was slaughtered by the same man.

Aemond stared at the mirror, feeling the blood trickle down his nose. He got into a fight with some losers in some random alleyway.

He scoffs, aware that he looked pathetic. How long has it been since adrenaline pumped through his veins?

It was tiring, constantly having to hide himself in a facade of self-righteousness. It was hard pretending to be perfect!

Perfection was different for every woman. To a Plath-Orwell loving maiden, the perfect man was a guy who read Nietzsche and occasionally watched the Godfather. He perfected himself for a woman like you to come by.

It wasn't difficult to have you, but it was difficult to maintain you.

He washes his face with water, observing the crimson fluid go down the drain. There was a time, he remembers, when you were happy with each other. You didn't mind doing the laundry while he played his video games. He was aware of your beauty, but he was at peace because he knew that your loyalty was his. That you were his.

But Daemon's arrival changed something in you.

He could see that.

He sees the way that your eyes fill with emptiness when you realize that he's done nothing the entire day. He sees the way that you shrug when he asks you a simple question, instead choosing to browse through social media instead of speaking to him.

Has he lost you to Daemon?

He takes a deep breath.

He knows the outcome of this battle. He knows that in due time, he'd lose you to his uncle. Who was he to stand against fate? The past was a mirror of the future. He was just a mere bridge.

He turns the faucet off.

He'd love you for as long as you'd stay.

He'd love you, even if you were slipping through the cracks.

Only a lampshade in the middle of the living room illuminated your humble apartment. Aemond was slumped on the Victorian sofa, unbothered by the blood that trickled down his chin and gathered on his chest. He felt numb.

"Jesus, you're bleeding." you say, concerned.

"I got into a fight with some randos back in town." he mumbled, disassociated from reality. Your eyebrows merged into each other. "What?" you paused, giving him time to repeat himself. This was the first time he's ever gotten into a fight - he'd usually take the higher ground and apologize even when it wasn't his mistake.

"- they made fun of my eye." he breathed.

He was thrown back into the past, when his nephews and the other kids made fun of him - for this disability that wasn't his fault.

"Oh, Aemond, I'm so sorry." you wrapped your arms around him. Allowing him to rest his head on your chest. There were tears falling down his eye, mixing with the blood. "If I was there, I would've beat them up with you." you humored, earning a chuckle.

He felt vulnerable.

"My father made fun of my eye too, when I was younger." he admitted, lifting his feet off the ground, placing it on the sofa until he was in a cross-legged position. "- he said that someone who looks this way would never be happy in life." he stared off to the horizon.

Your breath hitched, allowing him to speak about his past. Preventing yourself from interrupting, just in case the trance would break - and he'd return back to his hermit-like self.

"When we got together, I wanted to laugh at his face because someone like you chose to love me - despite the fact that I wasn't perfect. But my dad was right." he rose to his feet, ignoring your attempts to chase after him.

He locks himself in the bathroom.

Aemond opened his eyes again, transported back to the Summer of 2016. His arms were wrapped around his girlfriend, Margaux, he could feel the heat gathering in his back for laying down too long.

"Nick is just a friend. I don't know why you're jealous." she lied through gritted teeth. He wanted to choke her for making him seem like a goddamn idiot. He saw the hickeys on her neck, the smell of another man's perfume on her uniform. "I'm not fucking stupid." his grip on her neck tightened, his eyes turning crazy.

He rose to his feet, pushing her hands away when she tried to pull him back. "Ae, stop making a big deal out of this." she chuckled nervously, while he reached for the pistol hidden in his floorboard. An inheritance from his father.

"You cheated on me with that dirtbag loser." he yelled at her.

"I didn't please stop acting like a fucking asshole." she screamed.

He slaps her on the face. The sound echoing throughout the room. Leaving the both of them in shock. "What the fuck? So what if I did cheat on you with him? You're a loser. Do you have any idea what you look like?" she insulted him, but her words were not entering his brain

He placed the bullets inside of the pistol, aiming it at her. Margaux tries to run for the door, but he grabs her forearm - stopping her.

"Aemond!" your voice breaks him free from the trance.

A gasp escapes his mouth seeing the pistol on his hand. He remembers everything that happened with Margaux. He didn't kill her. Something snapped him out of it. He sees the fear behind your eyes. He drops the gun on the floor, and it goes off.

It hits your ankle.

Everything fades into black.

next chapter>>

[rekaning]

Desiderium | Elijah Mikaelson x Wife!reader

CW: None. Lots of feelings? Elijah just needs a hug honestly. Summary: Esther's machinations against Elijah has him confronting the deepest truths of himself that he has kept buried deep inside his heart. Truths he has never told you about.

You could say with certainty that you knew your husband better than most. With nearly two decades of being married and a few years of getting to know each other before then, you were pretty sure you had insight into his thoughts that not even his siblings had.

His time as a prisoner of his mother had changed him. He was no longer in control of the beast he had so meticulously kept under lock and key for over a millennia. You could see that he no longer seemed comfortable in his own skin. He rarely bothered to put on the tailored suits that had become so ingrained into your image of him.

The most agonizing aspect of this change was that he distanced himself from you. Physically, he was still with you, sleeping at your bedside, reading in the library with you, partaking in breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. Emotionally, however, there was a notable lack in your routine talks.

Where you two would talk of both everything and nothing before, now, there was stilted conversation, non-emotive hums of acknowledgment, and strained smiles.

It was painful to see him this way.

But at this point, you'd had enough. Your stubborn husband was clearly not dealing with the trauma his mother had subjected him to, and it seemed he had no plan to do so.

Thus, your current situation.

You had lured Elijah into the library, making sure to warn the household of your plan to confront him and have him heal, or at least start to.

As a powerful witch, you placed a barrier, barring Elijah from escape, in addition to a silencing charm, preventing any outsider from listening into your conversation.

A frustrated sigh escaped your husband's lips, his finger tapping at the armrest of the cushioned chair he was currently seated at. His normally warm brown eyes were tinged with agitation, "Dearest, is this truly necessary?"

You smiled back, unbothered by his obvious discomfort, knitting your hands together and placing them neatly on your lap, "Darling, we both know that you've been avoiding me for quite some time. I've had enough of it. We are going to talk about this, so, whatever nonsense you've been telling yourself to keep you from opening up to me is to end now."

You saw his jaw tick, could practically hear him grinding his teeth. Several emotions flitted across his eyes; fear, relief, shame, and sadness. You longed to ease him of his woes, but you had to understand what was going on with him.

You walked over to him, holding your hand out, wiggling your fingers in a clear sign for him to grab on. He did so with slight hesitation, his large calloused hands slipping perfectly into yours, his hold gentle. You pulled lightly, coaxing him to join you as you walked backwards toward the loveseat beside the armchair he'd been on.

You and he sat down, your hands still intertwined, and you began to stroke the back of his hand with your thumb, tracing random patterns and shapes into his skin.

You both sat quietly. You were preparing to question him while he was preparing excuses and formulating ideas to get out of this situation.

You could see the gears turning in his head so you reached out with your other hand and tenderly cupped his cheek.

His eyes shot downward to the floor in shame.

Your heart ached, seeing that expression on his handsome face.

"Darling. Please look at me." You whispered softly.

Slowly, he trailed his eyes up to your own. To your surprise, his sclera turned red and black veins became visible.

You had only witnessed Elijah's true vampiric form a handful of times, the majority of them against a threat against your or his safety. And the other small portion had been during more intimate moments, but they were never unprompted. You normally had to ask him to drink from you, and even then, he'd take the most minuscule sips.

To witness him now, unprovoked and unprompted, and see the barely concealed hunger in his eyes; you had no words.

Your surprised silence must have been enough for him, for a moment later, he looked away, inhaling deeply through his mouth, pushing down the raging hunger and tampering it to a simmer.

"My Dearest, please forgive me, I—"

You forced his head in your direction, eyes no longer wide in surprise but instead in eager determination, "Do not apologize, Elijah. No more apologies. Explain, please, just...whatever it is that is plaguing your mind, just let it out."

A long silence permeated the library. The hesitation caused you to stroke at his cheek, your eyes softening to stare up at him in complete adoration, "My darling Elijah. There is nothing you could say that would make me love you less."

Another beat of silence before he nodded, "I am...unsure of how to start. Will you...allow me to show you?"

You nodded without a single hint of doubt, "Of course."

This time, your husband was the one to reach out as he placed the tips of his fingers against your temple.

And you saw everything Esther had done. She'd broken down every wall he'd placed in his mind. The Red Door that he'd had buried deep inside. Memories that she had locked away—whether she had meant it as a form of protection for him at the time, didn't matter—it had broken him. He never gave himself the time confront what he was. Instead, he locked away his own confusion at being transformed into a vampire, couldn't deal with the fact that he had killed his first love, never acknowledged the fact that he could no longer have children despite how family-oriented he was. All this he had ignored and locked away for the sake of his family, to keep them safe and away from Mikael, to fulfill the promise he'd made to Niklaus, for his baby brother's redemption.

As the images of his torture faded from your mind, you realized that tears had formed and fallen throughout the mind-meld.

Elijah tenderly wiped away at the tear tracks, bringing your head close and placing a feather light kiss to your temple, "Forgive me, my love." He whispered hoarsely.

You placed your own hand over his, wanting him to continue touching you, "There is nothing to forgive Elijah."

He shook his head, "I am a monster, the atrocities I've committed are too numerous and you—"

You gripped his face firmly, eyes still maintaining that warm, gentle look, "I," you emphasized, "know exactly who I gave my heart to." Your hand trailed up and combed through his hair. He closed his eyes momentarily to savor the gesture. He opened them again and stared into your loving gaze.

"I know that I didn't marry a saint. And I'm okay with that."

His eyes were so vulnerable, he looked like a kicked puppy, eyes shining with barely concealed hope, "The lives I have taken, the method in which I have wrought destruction is..."

"Not so different from me."

You could see him about to deny your statement, but you placed a finger on his pouting lips, "Darling, I have lived a very long time. You know quite well the lives I've taken. I am no angel."

A smile bordering on a smirk made it way on his lips, "No," he muttered, "you are a goddess."

A bubbling laugh erupted from your lips. You could feel warmth envelope your chest at the sight of mirth dancing behind Elijah's gaze.

"My sweet Elijah." cupping his face again, you continued, "There's more to this isn't there? Please." You brought your forehead to touch his.

"Let me in," you whispered.

He could never get anything past you. The woman he married was observant, piecing the most minute of details together to create an understanding of a problem. She had only gotten better at reading him over the years. At knowing him when he was still trying to understand himself.

"I could never fool you, could I?"

You chuckled softly, "It certainly is entertaining when you try."

He sighed again.

He had been thinking about this non-stop since Niklaus and she had rescued him. An ache he had buried so deep that he'd forgotten it was there. Meeting you had inched it to the surface but he had stamped it down the more and more serious you two got.

He clasped his larger, rough hands around yours, moving them onto his lap. He stared at your more delicate fingers. So much more slender than his, smoother, softer.

"Since I was a boy," he started, "I had been raised and taught that a man was to provide and protect those of his family." He raised his eyes and stared off into the distance, "And with how my father treated Niklaus...how I had failed my brother when we were still human, I made a vow to myself that I would always keep him safe, keep our siblings safe.

"You know of my...unfortunate luck with past lovers."

You simply nodded, smiling encouragingly for him to continue.

"Killing Tatia was...it was almost as if I had killed the human part of me. Her death was my birth as a vampire."

His eyes then strayed back to you, "Over the centuries I fell in love and I lost them all. Some I lost to Niklaus' actions and others...I chose my family over them. And then? I met you."

He caressed your cheek at that. You nuzzled into his warm touch.

"Having had so many lovers die, I buried the desire for companionship. You met me at a time where I was afraid of getting close to others. I thought, that if my brother got wind of another woman in my life, he would do everything to take her from me. And yet, you stayed.

"You fought at my side, struck down enemies in my name, broke down every barrier I had placed around my heart, and you uncovered that buried desire for love I had been so afraid to feel again. For I knew, that if I lost you, that would be the end of me."

His words were poetry, touching the deepest parts of your soul and you couldn't help the tears that welled in your eyes as he spoke with such raw emotion.

He closed in on you, his lips pressing into yours with a heavy passion.

When he pulled away, his eyes were alight with wonder, "And then you became my wife." His smile was so radiant as he thought back to that moment where he'd gone down on one knee and asked you the question that had been plaguing him for a few years at that point.

"I had what I had most wanted. The companionship I had longed for, for so long. Since the day my father pierced my heart with his blade. The love of a woman who loved me just as profoundly as I did her."

His breathe hitched, "And yet..."

He went quiet. You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. You merely stroked his hands, allowing him time to structure his next words.

You knew what he was getting at. Ever since coming to New Orleans. You could see how the situation here was affecting your husband. How he had looked at his brother.

"And yet," Elijah said, finally, "the desire for something else began to brew deep within. A desire I had not given a thought to since becoming what I am. I couldn't think about it, because what could I do but let it fester and infect my mind? And then mother happened. She said the one thing that caused that desire to spread its way into my every waking thought."

You could see the turmoil and anguish rolling off his very being. You lifted a hand and placed a gentle kiss, encouraging him to go on.

"It is selfish of me to want more, when you, my dearest, were a dream come true in a millennia of loneliness. But I..."

You lifted his chin, eyes so full of understanding, it was nearly blinding for Elijah to look directly at you. But you held his gaze and whispered so tenderly to him, "It's okay. You can say it."

He closed his eyes. Of course, you already knew.

"The longing I have felt...the wish I buried with my human self...I have always longed to be a father."

Tears fell from Elijah's eyes as he finally uttered his wish. Your own tears poured from your eyes as you hugged him close.

You had seen the looks of envy your husband had shot at his brother since learning that he had impregnated Hayley. You'd noticed the way his eyes would sometimes fall to your own stomach, imagining what you would look like with his child. And after nights of love-making, when he thought you had fallen asleep, he would caress your belly, hoping against hope that your body would accept your coupling and consummate a child.

You and he had never spoken about the inability to have children. He was a vampire after all. But it wasn't hard to imagine. You had done so many times before. Your husband, rocking your son or daughter to sleep, reading books to them, talking tenderly to them.

He was so dedicated to his family already. You could only imagine how he would be for his own children.

And with that thought, you eased away from your embrace. Your eyes burning with determination.

"I promise you, Elijah. I will do everything within my power to give you a child."

His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up at his mouth gaped open with surprise.

You were a powerful witch. With grimoires dating back centuries with spells and rituals lost to time. Your husband never asked for much, but if it was a baby he wanted, then a baby he'd get. You would make damn sure of it.

*** Author's note: I really wanted to write this type of perspective of a man truly wanting to be a father, and Elijah, I feel, is that kind of man. He's so family-oriented and caring and loving and I can only imagine the type of amazing father he'd be.

I've read a lot of stories where the want of a child was more along the aspect of breeding kinks and the baby-making process, and those are all well and good (I like reading those too, honestly) but for this, I feel Elijah's desire to be pure; he truly wants to be a family man, a good husband, and a loving father.

Also wife!reader is essentially my OC from an Elijah/OC fanfic I have in the works. I will not be posting anything from that story anytime soon as it's still in the works (7 chapters so far and nearly 35K words) but this particular situation was in my head for a while now.

Anywho, thank you all for reading, and for those of you who have liked and reblogged my previous two mute!reader entries, a huge thank you to you! I hope you all enjoyed reading this!

[starless-nightz]

Arlecchino, where have you buried all your children?

note -> I love writing angst for absolutely no reason.

paring -> platonic! Arlecchino X fem! dead! child! reader

summary -> Arlecchino thought she knew what true pain felt like after she lost her closest friend and killed Mother, but that was until the first time she lost a child in her care, the one she adored the most.

warnings -> child death.

content includes -> hurt/no comfort, rain, short.

Arlecchino felt rain pour onto her as she stood outside, her eyes glued to the small grave stone in front of her. She didn’t feel any emotion, her whole body felt numb as she looked at the grave with soft eyes.

Arlecchino has seen countless death, she killed many of her siblings, her best and only friend, even ‘Mother’, she has killed countless people and saw many die in front of her eyes, but nothing could prepare her for your death, the first child who had died in her care as the new Father of the House of the Hearth.

Arlecchino thought she was prepared for such pain, being surrounded by death all her life made her not feel anything for the dead, but no death could compare to the death of an innocent child who she was supposed to care for, protect and train, dying because of a mission she sent them on.

Arlecchino will make sure to kill the person who took your life, she will make sure that your death meant something, that you will be able to rest in peace.

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VII

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen, daughter of King Jaehaerys I, ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with an invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff, Attempted Sexual Assault tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries, sexual assault, Parental Abuse

Word Count | 3.6k

Authors Note | Last extremely lore heavy chapter for a while. I will be giving a nice treat for next chapter!!! ✨

Prologue | Chapter VI | Masterlist

Chapter VII | My Brothers Keeper

You were awoken by a deep, carnal pain from your lower back. Your back arched up as you gasped yourself awake. You must’ve turned over wrong and put your full body weight on your bruise.  Letting the weight off did absolutely nothing, the pain and throbbing persisted anyway. 

You felt a pressure rising in your throat alarmingly fast, cupping your hand over your mouth you dash over to your chamber pot and let your insides empty out. You started dry heaving over the pot with not much besides liquid, you hadn’t had anything to eat since you broke your fast yesterday morning. The pain mixed with starvation made your stomach stir in such a way as to bring you to this point.

You manage to stand yourself back up on wobbly feet. If not for the gigantic bruise on your lower back you wouldn’t be so humiliatingly weak. You brace yourself on the chair of your vanity and see the state of yourself. 

Your hair is in tangled disarray, your face is reddened and puffy, and you look like a disaster…your maids didn’t have time to prepare you for bed at all. Ellyn must’ve been scared by the sight of Aemond; she didn’t even think about it. Is this what Aemond saw? Was this why he pulled away so suddenly? No… was it?

You’re already awake and there’s no way you can go back to sleep in this state. You shuffle to your chamber door to open to peak out into the dark stone halls, only lit by torches. Standing there for a few minutes until you flag down a maid carrying a basket of towels.

“I need to- to break my fast- my fast early.” You whisper with a tight throat. The sun had broken from the horizon moments ago, you wouldn’t be given food for a few hours if you hadn’t requested it now. The maid nodded with a ‘Yes My Princess’ and continued on her way.

You retreat into your chambers with a hiss, the throbbing pinch coming back when you walk, and a growl in your stomach.

‘What would I even eat?’ The thought hadn’t occurred to you until just now. Just soups, juices, and teas for you.

You touch your neck gently and you finch back, but then the flinch makes it hurt too. Tears start to form on your waterline and threaten to fall, crying would hurt too. Tears of pain and frustration.

This is all Vaegons fault. Vaegon is the source of your injuries, his ever-growing obsession with you has tilted his mind, your mother should've forced him to stay home, she should’ve let you go alone.

You bury your head in your hands and begin to sob regardless of the pain it brings you to move your neck. Mind swirling with so many thoughts where do you even start?

You hate Vaegon; you hate him more than you ever had before, you’ve hated him since childhood, and he’s always found a way to injure you out of frustration. You feel no sympathy for him; he knew that you would never love him, coming to Westeros guaranteed it. Vaegon has always felt entitled to you, knowing it was over was too much for him you suppose.

‘Sister! I have come to rescue you!’ Vaegon called up to you holding a wooden sword. You sat on your tall bed looking down at Vaegon with a small gold tiara on your head that was a gift from your mother.

Marra, a worker from your mother's pleasure house that normally looked after you both during the daytime sat on the bed with you to make sure you two didn’t injure yourselves. 

‘No! You ruined it! I’m a Princess! Not your sister! Do it again!’ You whined at Vaegon because he ruined the whole plot. Vaegon yelled out in childlike frustration after being forced to redo his lines for what felt like the 500th time for a child this young.

Vaegon was 7 and you had just turned 6. Vaegon claimed repeatedly that he was too old for childish games like pretend, but he still did it because you demanded it. Either because he cared for his little sister or because you would beat him with his wooden sword if he said no. 

‘Let’s calm down. Perhaps we’ve played too much pretend for one afternoon’ Marra laughed lightly at your childish bickering. 

You huffed and fell back into the pillows on the bed. Marra move your tiara out of your hair so it doesn’t get tangled up in your hair. You tired yourself out simply from yelling at Vaegon all afternoon for not fitting your perfect ‘play pretend’ idealization of what a warrior should be. 

Vaegon clamored onto the bed after a few attempts, earning a soft gasp of surprise from Marra.

‘You can get onto the bed by yourself Vaegon? You’ll be old enough to train at the Red Church soon.’ 

Vaegon gasped at the praise with stars in his eyes, rambling on and on about all the great things he would do for the Lord of Light. You scoffed at Vaegons ramblings, your dreams were WAY more realistic, obviously. 

‘Okay, little princess. What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Marra poked your tummy and laughed.

‘Easy! I want to marry a prince!’ You scoff out childishly, so confident as if it was that easy.

‘What?! That would never happen! That’s stupid!’ Vaegon sat on his knees and mocked you.

‘Vaegon’ Marra said with a warning tone and he laid down at Marra's other side. 

‘There are no Princes in Essos. So you want to marry a Targaryen Prince then? I’ve heard there are many just around your age. Lucky you, little lady’

‘Yes! I’ll claim a dragon too and we will fly high in the sky together! He’ll be beautiful with long silver hair-“ You start to ramble about your ideal Targaryen Prince until all of a sudden you feel a blunt force on your knee. You yell out and grip your knee, tears already flowing down your cheeks. 

‘Vaegon! What has gotten into you!’ Marra yells out and grabs your brother by the wrists making him drop his wooden sword he struck your knee with. 

You curl up in a ball sobbing in pain while holding your knee that will show a developing bruise anytime now. Vaegon is fighting back against Marra with tears streaming down his face out of frustration. 

Through your tear-stained eyes, you look over to Vaegon, for the first time you see this face. Vaegons eyes have turned black, with no sign of purple at all. Pupils fully eclipsed the iris. Being held at the hands by Marra reduced him back to a sobbing boy and he collapsed into her arms.

Ellyn placed a smaller assortment of foods at your table than normal. Due to your current condition, you can only consume certain foods without harsh pain. Ellyn has taken up the task of bringing you a new kind of tea to try every day.

“A shipment just came in and I had to brew a pot for you Princess. This is blood orange tea!” She looks excited for you to try this in particular. You reach for the cup and blow on it before taking a sip while Ellyn waits excitedly. It of course is citrusy, pretty sweet, and a little tart. Pretty nice compared to the one from yesterday morning.

You give Ellyn a happy expression showing that you enjoyed it. Gods you need your throat to heal… Pure delight painted her face and she clapped her hands together before she grabbed the rest of the food. Mainly just Oatmeal and Soft Fruits.

Mela had a bath set up for you immediately after you finished eating. You let out a moan of sweet bliss as you sunk into the tub. The hot water felt ethereal, it was like a warm hug that kissed your swollen skin as a lover would. The sunlight hit the room and painted it with the colors of dawn.

“Ellyn told me that the Prince personally applied your ointment last night. Quite intimate, quite scandalous…” Mela laughed, squeezing out water from a sponge, and started scrubbing your back. 

“Yes, very focused and very gentle on the Princess,” Ellyn spoke up, matching Melas' laugh.

“Oh my, attentive and gentle? You may have your hands full for the coming moons after you are wed.” Mela continued to tease in a motherly way and Ellyn giggled in the back while cleaning up from breakfast. A blush rises on your cheeks remembering the intimate moment you and Aemond shared. It became a bittersweet feeling; it hasn’t been that long since you came, but it feels like an eternity. 

You hear a roar far off in the distance, you sit up with excitement in your veins when you realize it’s a dragon. This is the first one you’ve ever seen, your balcony gives you a perfect view. The grand beast took flight outside of Kings Landing, the beast was massive and so green. The dawn sky made it look so divine, so godly. You were at a loss for words. This is better than anything you could’ve dreamed of.

“Ah, right there is Prince Aemonds dragon. Vhagar is her name, the biggest dragon alive.” Mela realized it was your first time seeing a dragon. Your face was filled with childlike awe. It filled Melas' heart with joy to see you like this after the sorrow and pain of last night. 

“Vhagar…” you whispered, eyes following Vhagars path in the sky. 

“My Queen- I didn’t notice you entered.”

You turned to see Queen Alicent at your chamber door, you didn’t know how long she’d been there. Alicent wore her hair free and dress loose, it was extremely early, and you wouldn’t expect anyone to wear proper dress at this hour. You jumped a little at her presence, you were in a bath with no way to make yourself decent.

“We are all women here, sweet girl. Nothing I do not have myself.”

Alicent smiles and pulls over a stool next to the tub. You hold yourself together even though she can fully see your chest. She doesn’t look like she cares so you choose to ignore it.

“Your brother is in the dungeons, he will be kept there until the council knows what to do with him. It is likely that, due to his transgressions. He will be put to the sword-“

The words hit your body before they hit your mind. Without even thinking you move forward in the tub to grab and hold Alicent by the arms. Having your body fully out in the open seconds ago would’ve made you squeak into a corner but you are too shocked to care.

“No! Let him go home-“ Your sentence gets cut off when the pain on your bruises gets too rough and a wheeze rises. Mela grabs you tightly and leans you back into the tub with a scared expression pointed at you. 

Alicent looks frightened herself, eyes wide, breath heavy, and leaned back in her seat, not expecting you to have such a reaction. She would’ve expected you to be at least a little joyful. Vaegon attacked and strangled you, then ran away to escape like a little girl. 

You couldn’t do that to your mother. Letting your brother die in a foreign land, to a foreign man, with a foreign sword. Have him murdered while crowds got a sick kick of seeing a Targaryen bastard get their head chopped off. Would claim it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see a Targaryen head on a stick. You would be forced to be happy and proud about it else you would be blamed for sympathizing with him. 

You don’t love him, you don’t like him, you tolerate him for your mother.

They wouldn’t understand how you hate him. They wouldn’t hate him how you do. They don’t know how

You sat at your vanity brushing your hair, about six and ten at the time. You heard the door open to your room, of course, it was Vaegon, you didn’t even have to look. He tended to let himself in, after a decade of it you couldn’t even try to bring a care. 

“Vaegon I told you not to come in my room after-“Your groan was caught as a lump in your throat when your eyes looked to the corner of your mirror to see a man that didn’t have white hair or purple eyes. 

“I’ll be Vaegon if you want me to.” This man said with a partly toothless smile that made your bones crack. He was ugly, with no scars or trauma, the gods just decided he was to be ugly. 

You stood with quickness and ripped open the top drawer of the vanity to grab a knife that had been sitting there since the vanity had. Turning to him and holding out the knife as though you’d looked threatening. 

“I always knew Saera Targaryen hid other girls around for prized keeping. I didn’t think the daughter would be the one I’d find. Lucky me.” He licked his pipes and walked toward you slowly, sometimes falsely jumping forward just to see you yell in fear and jump back. His laugh at your weakness made your stomach turn and your mind pruden. 

Your grip on the knife got stronger and stronger to the point where it might’ve cut you harder than it would’ve ever cut him. You didn’t realize until your back hit the wall, that you were cornered, with nowhere to run between you and the disgusting man. 

“D-Do you know who I am?! I could have you speared from ass to mouth for this!” The unconvincing tone in your voice did nothing to sway him. You can have him killed, that’s not a lie, but it didn’t sound like the truth.

He said nothing, you just now noticed the knife in his hand. It was covered in fresh blood still slowly gathering on the tip of the blade. You looked back up to him, he noticed that you noticed.

“This? There was a whore cunt walking the halls and I couldn’t have her screaming and running away. I’d had her before so there was no point in trying her again.”

Your mind went numb, you couldn’t think. Marra… it was Marra's blood. He killed Merra and left her body in the hallway, didn’t he? Marra was dead.

The woman who cared for you since you were a babe. When your mother couldn’t when your mother was too busy. She was there. Whore or not. She was your second mother. Your thoughts were jumbled and scattered.

You don’t even remember how you got here.

The next thing you see is you over his corpse with his throat slit and your arms tired from gouging your knife in and out of his skull. No one would’ve even known that he was a grotesquely ugly man, he is reduced to maimed and unrecognizable. By the strain of your arms, you had been going at it for 3 minutes uninterrupted. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop, blood had splattered up your arms, on your chest, and dripping down your chin.

Arms wrapped around your waist and hulled you away from the man. The two of you collapsed back on the floor, you couldn’t take the knife with you, it had been driven so deep it was stuck in the floor. 

You attempted to claw yourself out of the grip of your restrainer; your body was telling you, you weren’t done, you needed to keep going, it felt carnal. 

“Sister! It’s alright! It’s your Big Brother!” Vaegon shook you with a tight grip around your arms and chest.

There was no way you’d be able to free yourself from his grip. Your body was forced to calm down, you collapsed into Vaegons hold. Your body was tired, all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“I- I- Marra“was still delirious you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even register it was Vaegon holding you.

“Shhh… I know sister, Shhhh…” Vaegon rocked you back and forth, rubbing your hair softly.

You barely noticed when Vaegon started to lick the blood off your face. You couldn’t muster up the energy or the thought process to feel anything about it.

“If that will bring you to peace, then… I will share your wishes with the small council.” A sigh came from the Queen's lips. Her assumptions of your character were challenged in the past 24 hours. You could tell in the way her eyes changed from when you first met her to how she looks at you now 

She looks at you like a small injured chick that has fallen from the nest. The past 24 hours have ruined your reputation, you will be seen as a little foreign girl who cried like a babe. The ladies of the court will look down at you as a kicked puppy. Vaegon ruined everything before you even had a chance… 

Alicent touched your hand with hers, she gave you a pitiful look.

“In the Faith of the Seven, forgiveness is a great step to take. However, your brother's attack is a matter bigger than you or I. A letter will be sent to your mother informing her of what has transpired.” 

“Thank you, my Queen.” You forced your voice and a smile, she must believe you want to help Vaegon.

“Once you are healed. You are welcome to visit the sept with me.” She gave your hand a final rub and gestured to make her leave.

This wasn’t to help Vaegon at all, you wanted nothing more than for him to die. Vaegon wasn’t a kill Westeros could have, this is yours. 

To slide a knife at his throat like a musician making sweet melodies on a violin. To see the despair in his eyes when he knew his sister was the one to take his life. Perhaps you would strangle him and watch life leave his eyes. Torturing him for days and nights until he gave out. Begging at your skirts with snot and tears running down his face for you to spare him. You didn’t want a crowd, this was personal, this was private.

Vaegon is yours

You stood over Marra's corpse. 

Her body was cleaned, her throat sewed back up, new proper clothes dressed her body, tasteful makeup.

The man didn’t just slit her throat he sawed at it. Her head was almost off her neck but he couldn’t get through her spine. 

She died just because you existed, she was simply doing what she did every day. She didn’t instigate, she didn’t bother anyone. She just happened to be alive in this man’s way to get to you.

A Red Priest wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour to administer The Last Kiss. A death rite in the faith of R’hllor, where a Priest blows fire from his mouth into the deceased and burns them inside. 

Vaegon stood behind you, unmoving, hands folded in front of his form. When you looked back at him you couldn’t tell a thing about him, he looked different. He didn’t look sad, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

He moved to stand directly behind you, his chest pressed against your back and his breath on your hair. His hands held your waist on both sides, caressing up and down gently. You pry at his hands, digging your nails into his skin and trying to shake yourself free.

“Vaegon-!”

“You need someone to take care of you now. Please allow that to be me, sweet sister.” Vaegon leaned in and kissed your cheek trying to sway you into a full kiss.

“Marra!- get the fuck off me! You’re sick, Vaegon!” You yelled, you shook and flailed to escape him but his grip simply grew tighter. He chased after your face to get a chance to get a taste of your sweet rosey lips, his left hand daring to venture lower. You continued to scream and kick to get away.

“Agh!-“ Vaegon yelled in pain abruptly, releasing you from his tight hold leaving you to sink to the ground in shock. 

“How dare you Vaegon!” Your mother had a grip on the hair of Vaegons scalp as she yanked him down to the floor by his hair.

“Mommy!- I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Vaegon cried as Saera held his head up and started striking him repeatedly across the face. Vaegon could overpower your mother easily, but he would never dare in a thousand winters. He could only sit there, take it, and beg for it to stop.

You breathed heavily, bringing yourself back to witness the sight of your brother getting what was coming to him. 

“Go to your room!” Your mother paused and flicked her head to you.

“But I didn’t do any-!“

“NOW!!!!” She screamed at you in a way you hadn’t heard before. You scrambled up onto your feet and hauled your ass up to your room before she could demand it again.

You heard her screams at Vaegon, relentlessly rolling off her tongue along with slapping and Vaegons pleas for ‘mommy’ to stop.

‘Did I nurse a wild fucking animal at my breast?!’ ‘Over her corpse Vaegon?!’ ‘You could have any whore in my supply and you push yourself onto my only girl?!’

You sunk back into your tub with Alicents leave. You sat like an alligator waiting for prey, emerging from the water with eyes resting above.

Perhaps being seen as weak isn’t the weakness you thought it would be. A weak woman means sympathy, it means comfort from the ladies of the court, it means your mistakes can be written off as naivety.

Your mother showed you what a conniving and smart woman looked like. You didn't cross the narrow sea to be a cowering princess. 

You must pull the strings of your destiny as your mother did. 

Starting small of course.

[aris-ink]

hii ari! i hope you are doing good! make sure to take care of yourself <3 your step bro fics are such faves of mine , omgg you are such an amazing writer <33 if you are doing requests, could you please write about step brother jungkook and same age reader , where the reader is sad or crying for some reason and jk ends up comforting her thru f*cking ?

hi! 💕 tysm, I love you and yes please 🥺 this wasn't very specific so I hope it's close to what you wanted <3 take care of yourself too angel <3

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: allusions to violence (not towards the reader), allusions to depression, pseudo incest, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of fingering & oral sex, praise kink, rough sex (but also very soft somehow bc jk is a total simp in love), creampie

Rain trickled down the windows of your bedroom, tapping rhythmically against the glass and blurring out the night. You felt blurry too, distorted, cheeks stained from tears, the wetness stuck in your eyelashes. Grabbing your face, Jungkook tried to kiss it all away. A tinge of color spread throughout your bones. The blurriness seemed to dissolve, clearer thoughts and sensations emerging. His warmth seeped into you, melting away the frigid numbness that had encased your soul.

He moved forward, knees bumping against yours, kissing you so desperately there was not an inch of space left between your bodies and not an ounce of air left in your lungs.

It wasn't always like this.

Usually, Jungkook took his time with you, relishing in every shallow breath and every little twitch of your limbs, sucking on your neck until it bruised. He liked to switch between finger fucking you in his lap and burying his face in between your legs, until you quivered under the sheets and his tongue made you forget your parents were sound asleep in the other room. Drunk on you, he used your mouth like a toy, praising you all the way through it, thighs tense and hard dick twitching in your throat.

There was no time for any of that tonight, though. You just wanted to feel real, wanted the heat and the weight of his body pinning you down, holding you together; and as always, Jungkook was there to provide. His hands were all over you, palming your ass before he pushed you down onto your bed, lips refusing to part from yours. He unclasped his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans, aching to be inside you, to take all your pain away and leave behind nothing but his marks. You received no warning and no time to prepare; your soaked underwear was pulled aside, and the next thing you knew Jungkook filled you up to the brim, groaning lowly into your mouth.

You arched beneath him, gasping, your cunt clenching so tightly he broke into sweat. With a quiet grunt, he pulled back out, cock pulsing and leaking; only to shove its entire, thick length back inside, wasting no time in setting an aggressive pace.

You squealed, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for support, legs wrapping around his waist for no more than a moment before the force of his thrusts made them slip back down. Even so, there was no escape from his powerful frame trapping you beneath him. Not even the clothes, messed up from being tugged at, seemed to create any barrier between you. You could still feel the heat of his skin bleeding through the cotton of his t-shirt, and each ripple of his muscles as he fucked you. The rest of the world was mist; the mattress groaning beneath you, the ticking of the clock that signaled your parents would be home soon, the stress and the weight of every long day dragging on. It became nothing but a cloud ghosting through your fingers, too close to the ground to bother you. Up high, the only thing you felt, heard and remembered was Jungkook. His tongue entwining with yours, the hoarse moans bordering on whines, barely muffled by his kiss; and the hot, white rapture coiling deep in your abdomen, spreading through you like a fever.

How selfish it was of him, to drag you down into the shadows where you did not belong. And yet they seemed kinder than the harsh, blinding light you were expected to walk in, welcoming and understanding of your sorrows. And sometimes, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you'd decide to leave one day and make a home with someone you didn't have to be ashamed of loving. Someone much less twisted and much more deserving of you. Someone who didn't need to stain their hands with blood out of a monstrous fear of losing you.

Hopeless, he ended the sloppy kiss, eyes dark and blown out when they looked into yours.

"Pretty," he choked out, swallowing down a whimper. "So pretty. Love you, love you, love you- fuuucck-"

The way you clenched around his cock made him pound you faster, the sound so wet and lewd he couldn't stop twitching inside you. He had a feeling your hips were going to get bruised, and with the way you clawed at his back and moaned his name, god, he hoped they would.

"Come with me," he breathed, voice shaky, ringed fingers grasping your chin.

You mewled, nodding your head, incapable of providing any other answer. Pressing his lips to yours, Jungkook used his free hand to hold on to your thigh, digging into the soft flesh.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

The soothing promise melted into a deep groan, the thread he was hanging on snapping unexpectedly when your cunt squeezed him tighter, gushing onto his cock. He stilled abruptly, letting the velvet heat of your walls massage him through his orgasm, emptying himself inside you completely.

A sigh.

Not bothered cleaning you up, he disconnected himself from you just to get undressed. Even if he had the energy for it, he was much happier knowing you were full of his cum, sated, your pretty pussy wet instead of your pretty eyes. He knew you had classes in the morning; he did too, and you both needed some sleep. He also knew he couldn't stay in your bed, because soon his father would walk in through the door, your mother following right after.

But just as much as Jungkook didn't want to leave you alone, he didn't want to sleep without you either. It was two am when he sneaked back into your bedroom, doing his best not to disturb your rest.

You stirred anyway, curling up to him as he wrapped his arms around you, his chin finding rest on the crown of your head. Wide awake, he laid in the dark, holding you close to his chest.

Tap tap tap.

It was still raining. His lips brushed against your hair as he glanced down at you.

"Baby?"

You hummed so softly he almost missed it. He ran his fingers down your thigh, like touching you eased his aches too, made spring bloom in the bleak winter of his own bones.

And it did.

"I wish I could-" he tried, then paused. So many words, so many languages, and yet nothing felt fitting enough. "... Sorry I can't love you the way you deserve," he whispered. "But I'll love you the way you need."

There was no reply; only the ongoing sound of rain and the softness of your even breathing. He didn't mind. He pressed a kiss into your forehead and closed his eyes.

Some secrets and promises were better off left in the dark, too.

[themotherofblood]

CHAPTER 3 | RIVER OF GOLD | The Journey | T.L x Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

tw: mentions of rape and murder

~ the wedding was charming, if a little gauche ~

"My new home— it doesn't feel much of a home. It is foreign, I am foreign. I see it in the way the attendants glance at me, mayhaps my wild hair. A mythical creature trapped in a fine gown made of crimson velvet and gold. The beaches however are beautiful, sometimes I take off my boots and stand at the shore; salt water cools my feet and just for a moment. I don't miss home."

The journey had been swift, the preparations made through the evening with rows of wheelhouses and bannermen on horses, a joy parade to have Tywin lead his young wife to his ancestral seat. Ravens were sent hours before the blazing afternoon sun, to have your chambers thoroughly prepared and unpacked with your belongings. It appears Lady Genna Lannister had taken personal initiative to gather a toehold of handmaidens and a personal secretary for your coffers.

Your sisters had been tearful, puffed-mouthed poppets clinging to your skits with their dolls in hand. Nyela had fixated a minute glare upon your husband as he conversed with his brother in the Great Hall. The household staff gathered to see off their darling lady and liege lord.

"You swore you would take us with you," Ellia whimpers,  "we supposed to visit Uncle Doran."

"We were supposed to," you correct, taking a piece of her loose behind her ear "I'm sorry darling." You engulfed her, the scent of lily soap so strong, it felt like engulfing your mother.

Nyela still clung to your back, small eyes—hooded and glaring at Tywin. When he turned to look at you, an amused frown settled upon his forehead as he looked to your hip.

"You're our sister, you stay with us." She grumbles, if her tiny ineffective fists could do anything, she wished she could drag you to your chambers and lock you in.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn, they will come get you. Alright?" You crouched to meet their eyes, holding on one shoulder each.

Ellia, still pouting, buried her head in your shoulder, nuzzling the motherly warmth she often tried to find in your arms. Your brother walked over, having taken your brother from his nursemaid's arms and walked over to you. The boy, barely over two summers, had not a clue of why his siblings lamented for you. A stranger yesterday and now a stranger today, you held his little fist. Tracing over his face, the feathery touch of your fingers tickling at his skin making him giggle.

"I'd be a stranger to you the next we meet," you cooed as his tiny fist curled around your finger, babbling away at your hair sat by your chest. "You be good."

Your brother Olvyar turned to you next, a brotherly smile curling in his lips and eyes covered in guilt. You knew he felt terrible for stopping you from running, but in truth he was saving you from the cruel wrath of your father's pride—you were not his pride, even with his flesh and blood, you never would be. The one hard bone your father swallowed, even though Olvyar was his brother's seed sired by your mother. He was a son, a young man knighted and proud.

Olvyar for the longest time wanted nothing to do with your father's estate nor Westerlands politics, if he could. He too would have abandoned your father for adventure at sea with Oberyn, however seeing as though the only mere morsel of affection within Loren Maerilys was for him, you'd told him. Standing on your toes and pinching your older brother's teen puffy cheeks.

"You take care of us, you would be the lord of Deep Den." You hissed at him, hoping your brother would see reason beyond his boyish dreams

When you looked into his eyes, your own was looking back at you, just far more grief-stricken as yours were glossy. You opened your mouth, your form of a farewell was to be another lecture to your elder brother. He however chased your word back into your mouth as he opened his.

"I will look after them, and write to you at every turn of the moon." He reiterates, tilting his head just so as he looks down at you. "I will take care of them, I will be the Lord of Deep Den."

You held his arm, sternly nodding at him before pulling him to a half embrace. Squeezing his larger body so tight he had to set little Loren down to reciprocate.

"Don't let them be afraid, Olvyar. Don't let them be alone." You whispered, closing your eyes tight to fight away the tears threatening to fall.

"Never."

"My lady... it is time," Tywin called, standing with his hands clasped in front of him with a coaxing quirk to his brow and a forever stern disposition.

You bowed your head, to use your brother's chest as a shield as you wiped the salted drops away from your lash line before straightening yourself.

Dressed in a comfortable gown, devoid of fastened corsets or itchy gold hems to travel with ease through the eight hours of journey to Clegane Keep and then after a respite another four hours to Casterly Rock—your new home.

You offered not one look to your father as you walked out of the Great Hall holding onto both your sister's hands on either end. Your brother following behind as you were ushered to your carriage, you gave Deep Den one more glance; a superstitious tendency as you called to Mother Rhoyne for protection before taking the footmen's hand as he helped you into the sizable carriage. Reined in by eight horses, the wheelhouse was rather extravagant for such a short journey.

You settled in for a moment, sighing and resting your head against the plush velvet padded walls inside the carriage, your new home— you were married.

Perhaps even your bedding had made it so anxiously apparent on your skin that you no longer belonged to yourself, but to the crimsons and golds of house Lannister, to Tywin—

He had been rather aloof to your presence since the bedding last night, having made you feel so warm, an exasperating pinnacle and making you squeak at the strum of his fingers. Your cheeks burned hot even as you felt the gentle cramp within your claimed environs.  Then this— your handmaiden Odiele found an odd form of compliment when Tywin's cupbearer had approached your lady's maids to inquire of your health.

You took that wholeheartedly as you had prepared yourself to break your fast, and then the waft of cold hit you. Not a word, not a word to you beyond formalities, it is at that moment your mind gave way to further past your bedding and to the ceremony feast. Your Daima Eldrã had told you, men often melt when their frigid minds crawl to their pillar. It was a deal, that was your marriage. You looked to your belly, wondering if a blonde child had already made a home there, waiting to spread within you and have you waddling about all fat and sweaty.

You were sure your mind had raced even harder than the dozen horses shifting in your riding party outside, however, the very man that clung to the crevices of your head peaked through the door of the wheelhouse. Pulling himself in and sitting opposite you, he glanced at you for a mere moment, the glint of questioning in your eyes that called to him. You thought he would ride with his brother. 

"You seem displeased?" Tywin raised his brow, appearing defensive, perhaps irked by your reaction.

"No- I thought you were to ride with Lord Kevan, my lord," you muttered, still finding it hard to meet the steel green of his eyes, the frown perpetually etched onto his forehead often left you dislodged for your firm disposition. He did scare you, you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing so.

"If that is what you wish, my lady." Tywin shuffled to the edge of his seat. His discontent was apparent, you had displeased him. He is your husband, he is trying, and you are trying.

"No- I, stay..." you stutter holding onto his arm "Please." You blurt out meekly.

He grunts for an answer, turning to the stained window as you shuffle closer to it, waving at your sisters clinging to Olvyar's side as the horses neigh, and the procession moves. The first carriages trot away from the moat bridge, and then your carriage moves. That unsettling dread fills your chest again, regressing you to a child of seven summers being sent as a ward to Dorne to your uncles. You gave up the olive greens of your house to the mustards of Martells and now you gave those up for the crimsons of house Lannister. Shedding skin after skin, no home would truly be yours, first the burden of your father then the responsibility of your uncles and now a child bearer for your husband.

Tywin should have travelled with Kevan, irked at his brother's attempts to find leisure in this match. Kevan had physically hauled his elder brother away from their carriage to yours. So here he sat, within the first hour of the ride. The carriage shielded both bodies from the chilled air outside but made the inside unbearably stifling with tension, you would meet his eyes, freeze and curl your lips to a tight smile before uncomfortably looking away.

A young thing so fierce he had thought, you cowered from within, a small sense of satisfaction within Tywin. Maybe you wouldn't try and strangle him to death at night, or stab him as he coupled with you. A Martell after all, a tinge of distrust was highly warranted of the Old Lion. What worried him even more was taking you to Clegane's Keep. A true test of your loyalty— what loyalty? It had only been two days since your wedding— he could picture a torn sneer over your face. Being made to present your dainty hand to the man who had raped and murdered your dear aunt and Targaryen cousins.

He watched as the rocking of the carriage lulled you to soft slumber, head resting against the cushioned wall. Hugging yourself with your neck cranked to find comfort, pouted mouth breathing puffs for lazed breaths. The terrain of the Gold Road was smooth with nary a bump, yet Tywin came to sit next to you. The uncomfortable crank in your neck ought to make it ache in the morning, your head finding itself on his shoulder as you slept, the thick cloak covering your body as you lift your legs next to you. Resting against your husband.

A tight jostle however startled you to consciousness, your adamant need to still remain ridden by sleep you peeked one eye open, taking a moment to gather your bearings, Tywin's hold on you tightened, making you aware that you were indeed resting against his body. An apologetic frown upon your brows as you made an attempt to shuffle to the other end, his hold remained firm.

"Sleep." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

You, by the Mother's grace, remained a bed for the remainder of the journey. A mellow call of your name is what broke you away from your clouded warm dreams of the sea.

The face of your handmaiden however above you as she sat with a cloak in her hands, you grumbled awake, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

The tenuous tugs of sleep still had you curled to the cushioned seat, grumbling as Syaria pulled you up, accustomed to your demands for more sleep she shifts to hold you straight. You scowl at her mothering, hissing as you felt the bitter tug of the hairbrush she ran through your mussed hair to neatly put into a braid.  She slipped the cloak over your shoulders, humming to herself as your body was finally in focus and properly awake.

"Lord Tywin?" You croaked, one last broken yawn breaking through you. Shrugging the gentle ache in your shoulders.

"Out with Lord Kevan." She mused, letting you a satisfied hum before shoving a branch of Meswak for you to chew on.

You had a faint memory of feeling warm, the heavy feel of arms upon you to find your husband's chin resting on your head as he lay awake. You shuffled out of the carriage, the other maids of your horde holding up a sheet of white cloth as you changed behind its security into more appropriate riding clothes. You sat on the foot of the carriage, shooing away the Westerlands maid as she bent down to lace your boots, you were perfectly capable of tying them yourself.

Once ready they pulled away the white curtain as you stood to your height, stretching your arms up in the air to yank at any odd knots within your skin, the carriage had swaddled you in for nearly seven hours from dusk to dawn. The Gold Road was painted orange with the peak of the morning sun, horses neighing away as people changed shifts, a moment of respite and preparations for your arrival at Clegane's Keep.

You walked back five paces, your lovely black mare Nysa sat with her hooves curled in, Eldrã lovingly feeding the sweet thing apples, spoiled girl—

"Might I interrupt for a ride?" You called, Eldrã turned to you smiling, she petted your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You rest alright, dæriya?" she asked, concerned but toying at a far greater subject as she with ease switched to her mother tongue of Rhyone. He was with you last night. sweet girl

"Quiet well, daīa." you hummed holding onto Nysa's reins as you pulled yourself onto her.

Fredrick already stood at the ready. If you were to bolt away from the procession, you pointed your head to the edge towards the clearing where you were sure your husband sat with his brother breaking fast.

"Sleep well, Serret?" you asked a spurt of happiness within you, having the people closest to you accompanying you through this new journey.

"Well enough, my lady." He smiled baring his thirty-one perfect teeth, one happened to be chipped.

"Race with me?" you smiled sheepishly, pointing at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think racing at your station is appropriate now." He pressed, he wouldn't deny you. He never could, he never would.

"And if I were to order you, use my station. Would you do it?" A cheeky grin spread through your face, head tilted and mischief coating your features after a moon.

"Then I shall have no choice but to obey, my lady."

"Then we race!"

Nysa took off with the speed of storm winds, your braids whooshing against the wind as you tore through the forest line, the sun already risen, the orange fading and clear blue skies up above. It felt like an exotic delicacy willed into your environs as the fresh air bathed your skin away from the lingering tensions from the night before. You stopped, right at the edge of the forest line. Turning back to find Fredrick five paces behind before he too halted next to you.

You giggle, poking your pink tongue out at him before turning to bask in the scenery, you finally let your thoughts flow as you tarry.

"How am I expected to raise my palm to a man that raped and murdered my aunt," you muse, that sullen heaviness in your heart wet again weighing you down.

"Do you want me to kill him?" He blurted, a jape in all honesty but a blade pierces a man all the same.

You chuckle, shaking your head— a fine prospect, a violent one but one that Oberyn had fantasised over multiple times, Gregor Clegane's head resting at his foot.  You wondered if you stared at his plate of food at lunch, you wondered if The Mountain might fear you of poisoning him. The entirety of your family sat shaking their heads on your shoulder.

You looked around, about a yard away sat your husband by a thoroughly filled table, a black tunic and vest of sable fur with his leg bent and resting over his other. Fine leather boots reaching up his knees, he was watching you from a distance. His arm shot in the air, finger bent to call you over to him.

You sighed, looking at Fredrick before turning Nysa as you trotted over, dreading the conversation you were soon to have.

"My lords." You bowed, barely meeting their eyes. Relishing the sudden warmth against your skin from the lit fire.

"My lady."

"Wife."

Lord Kevan rose from his seat, gesturing for you to replace yourself,  he passed a knowing nod to his brother before leaving.

"Are you cold?" Tywin asked, inspecting the gloves on your fingers and the fur lining of your coat.

"The weather hasn't agreed with just yet I'm afraid," you agree, smiling at him "The Dornish climate is a lot more forgiving." 

All you could do was rub your leather gloves palms together, speak to him, say anything dammit—

"I have employed a governess for you," Tywin began, setting his plate of food "all the way from Oldtown."

"What use would I have for a governess? Our children would have years before they needed one."

Tywin looked surprised for a moment like the mention of possible children tickled at his hoped.

"You were raised Dornish, it is for your own good."

You frowned, toying at the cusp of what he meant.

"What? Being devoid of good societal behaviours, do you think I am unladylike?"

Tywin's lips pressed into a hardline "You are expected to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, now I will not have mockery being made out of my lady wife and by extension me."

"And why do you suspect it is so? It is you who wanted a lady wife with more than half a brain, have your feet turned cold now my lord?" You appeared irked, pushing your weight against the chair you sat on, married for two days and your husband already believed you daft.

"Do you intend on letting Gregor greet you?"

Silence, an arrow right on the mark you stared at him through the lining of your scrunched eyebrows, that heaviness greeting itself once more.

"You will perform your duties, my lady, you wish not to be greeted. I will allow it. However, the matter of the governess is unchanged if you are to raise my sons."

"My lord, the Keep is ready for you." a foot soldier approached.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wishing you had a pendant vial of poison before stepping foot in that establishment. Tywin gave you a stern look once more before helping you into your horse.

The two of you rode to meet the procession, you very valiantly chose to ride in on Nysa, the niceties of lady ship so far behind your mind, and your husband shook his head as he rode in front of you.

The attendants of Clegane's Keep and the one monstrously large man stood amongst the crowd. People revered the blonde image of Tywin atop his white stallion. Their liege lord once in a moon had come to grace them.

Smile, you should smile but instead, your face seemed to have frozen itself to an unimpressed leer, eyeing Gregor with the malicious power of Mother Rhyone, drop dead— drop dead you sick bastard.

Footmens rushed to lay stools by the horse to make your unhorsing more graceful as you huffed off, patting Nysa as she gently neighed before walking to your husband.

The gruff voice of Gregor Clegane echoed, you were wishing a lance through his heart "Welcome to Clegane's Keep, my lord—" he bows his head before turning to you "My lady."

The anticipation burned up as Tywin watched you from his periphery, honour the fool that ruined your family, you lifted your hand and Tywin's chest deflated. A gloved hand turned and presented for the Mountain to bend and lay a kiss upon your palm. A gloved palm, you remained untouched.

"Clegane's Keep is yours."

Tywin turned to Kevan this time, his younger brother who appeared rather amused at your doings. He merely hoped that you would be introduced to Genna soon.

A gloved hand, a leather toy for a dog, deprives him of the honour of greeting you. You never said you'd let him.

Ahhhh first of all, I thank everyone for the support through this odd time of drama. I figured I’d best focus on my writing and thank everyone that reached out to me.

Secondly. I totally wanna make the reader poison Gregor Clegane, I’m just not sure if I wanna do it this early.

Taglist (thank youuuu💐)

@joker640 @wondergal2001

[ghuleh-witch]

Make You Sing

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, exhibitionism (kinda), confessional sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV, Female!Reader, unnamed Sibling of Sin Additional Tags: no use of y/n, soft!dom Copia Words: 1121 Summary: Between your busy schedules, you and Copia make time to see each other, but that time is interrupted when a Sibling of Sin steps into the confessional.

Ao3

Your nails were digging into the wooden back of the chair as your head was pulled back, making your back arch. “Fuck,” you moaned loudly as Copia held a fistful of your hair. “Papa.”

“As much as I love those sweet noises, you need to keep it down, dolcezza,” Copia replied as he pounded into you. The hand that wasn’t pulling your hair was gripping your hip, pulling your hips back onto his cock. “Don’t want anyone to hear us, si?”

You and Copia hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together lately. Between his duties as Papa and preparing for a tour and your own work in the ministry, your time together was stretched thin forcing you to find little moments of free time throughout the day to spend together. Tonight Copia was holding confession, and as soon as the last person in line left, you came out of your hiding spot in the shadows and stepped into his side of the booth. It was late and Copia’s window for confession would be ending soon. No one else would be stopping in to confess their sins. 

When his hand came around to touch your clit, you all but whimpered in need. “Let them hear,” you breathed, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as his fingers teased your clit. His hand let go of your hair and pulled you closer to him. “I–aaaaah—want them to know you’re ruining me.”

“Ragazza birichina,” he purred in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your neck as his thrusts slowed to a torturous speed. 

“So close,” you panted softly as his lips peppered your neck with kisses and gentle nips. You teetered on the edge of your climax and were just about to shatter when the sound of heels could be heard approaching the confessional. 

You both froze upon hearing the door to the other side of the booth open and close and someone sitting down in the chair on the other side of the wall. The mesh between the booths was thick enough that the sibling couldn’t see either of you and you couldn’t see the sibling.

“Bless me, Papa, for I have sinned. It has been fourteen days since my last confession,” came the voice of one of one of your fellow siblings. “I have lusted, I was greedy, and I was envious.” 

One of Copia’s gloved hands came up to your mouth and covered it as he slowly pushed into you, careful to not make the chair you were balanced on creak. You felt his lips quirk upward into a smirk and knew he was turning this into a game. 

“For these sins, I am not sorry,” the sibling finished. 

Copia wasted no time stepping back into his role as Papa despite his cock buried deep inside of you. “Did you feel guilt while you were experiencing these sins?” Copia asked, keeping his voice level and neutral as he usually did in confession. A hand came and rested on your hip, keeping you still on his cock. He knew it would make you squirm. 

“A little,” the sibling confessed. “When I was lusting after my married friend…I want her so badly, but she’s happily married. I can’t help it though. I’m so jealous that her partner gets to have her every day and night and I just want her all to myself. I know they’re both polyamorous, but I still feel wrong for trying to come between them. I just…I don’t know…I don’t want to feel guilt for having the feelings I do and I don’t know what to do about this whole situation.”

“All those feelings you have a valid,” Copia said as he thrust deep into you again. You wanted to whimper into his hand but fought to keep silent. “There is nothing wrong with feeling guilt either. You are human and being human is complex and confusing.”

There was a sigh from the other side of the dark mesh screen. “What should I do, Papa?”

“Have you talked to your friend? Communication is key, after all.  It does not do to bottle up all these feelings.” Copia said, as the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth moved from your hip to your front and then between your legs. He dragged a single finger up your slit before stopping at your clit. You couldn’t help but tremble as you fought back any noise that was threatening to escape. 

“I’m afraid that if I tell her I’ll ruin my friendship,” the sibling said. “Even though I have a feeling maybe she feels the same for me too…”

“Perhaps it would be best to bring up your feelings to your friend and talk it through with her. You will never know if she feels the same or not if it’s never discussed. Don’t live with the regret of never knowing,” Copia responded as his fingers teased your clit.

“You’re right,” the sibling said. “I should talk to her. The worst that can happen is that my feelings aren’t returned and she’s not interested, right?”

“Right. And if she is truly your friend, your friendship won’t be ruined. Sure things might be, eh, awkward for a bit but you two will work through it.” He thrust into you slowly again and this time, the feeling was too intense. A muffled moan sounded against the leather of his glove and Copia quickly started to fake cough to cover up the sound.

“Are you okay, Papa?” The sibling asked.

“Mi dispiace. I seem to be coming down with a cold,” Copia lied, his fingers putting pressure on your clit as though in punishment. “Speak to your friend and discuss how you feel. Life is too short to be left wanting and wondering.”

“Thank you, Papa,” the sibling replied, their chair scrapping on the floor as they stood.

“Go and sin freely,” Copia said, making the sign of the inverted cross to the mesh-covered window.

The door on the other side of the confessional opened and you could hear the sibling walking away. When all was silent again, Copia released his hand from your mouth and pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He questioned, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Sorry,” you panted. “It just came out.” 

He hummed in response before the slow, agonizing pace of his thrusts turned punishing. “You’re lucky confession is over and you can be as loud as you want now,” he growled into your ear. “And I’m going to make you sing, cara.” 

And he did make you sing—your voice echoing off the rafters of the chapel as he brought you to orgasm.

Translations dolcezza-sweetness Ragazza birichina-naughty girl Mi dispiace-I'm sorry cara-dear/darling

[poppadom0912]

Together (V)

Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, and scary men.

Summary: Things all of a sudden turn around for the middle Halstead sibling.

A/N: It's a little late but this is in celebration of 800 followers. This and the next chapter were both written at school on my schools chromebooks so just ignore any mistakes. Enjoy!!

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

Kelly had been taken off shift as soon as Boden was informed of your predicament. A replacement came in and Kelly left 51 with everyone on edge.

With Trudy's permission, Kelly joined Hailey along with all the other units as they scoured the streets, looking up and down and all around for any sign of any of the Halsteads.

Kelly could remember it as though it was yesterday. The Murray brothers first came into their lives on a call that both 51 and intelligence responded to, a mere coincidence honestly and Med was the nearest hospital, so it only made sense.

The ever intriguing and elusive Halstead siblings drew in the Murray's and low and behold, several days later, you never turned up to shift.

Your kidnapping several years ago, a moment in all your lives that had been buried deep had suddenly resurfaced and Kelly could only think and prepare himself for the worst.

Huffing in par anger and par disappointment, Kelly looked up to the darkening sky, the sunset slowly fading would usually be a beautiful sight but today, it had no significance to him. In fact, it only made him think of you more.

"Come one Severide." Hailey pressed her lips together tightly, her smile strained and eyes dim. She was just as exhausted and distraught as him, she knew exactly what he was going through. "Everyone's reconveing with Trudy."

Before Kelly could reply, a phone went off. Confused, both he and Hailey checked their individual phones, Kelly tucking his back into his pocket when it wasn't his.

Already on edge, Kelly stood nervously, watching Hailey's face closely for any sign as to what she was being told.

"We need to go to Med."

*****

"Listen, I'm fine! Back off and let me go!"

Hailey swallowed thickly, heart thundering out of her chest as she heard the voice she adored in secret. Picking up the pace, she pulled open the curtains and stood frozen in the trauma doorway.

"Jay." She said breathlessly, refusing to blink in fear that this was all a dream and she was going to wake up to the reality that he wasn't here at Med and alive.

"Thank goodness Hailey." Jay let himself deflate ever so slightly at the sight of his partner, but there was no time for pleasantries. "Get me out of here."

Hailey only now let herself blink, several times in fact due to her shock at her partners words. Jay was covered in blood and it was obvious to the naked eye that he was hurt. She heard the 911 audio, she knew he'd been shot but God knows how many injuries had been inflicted onto him.

Hailey hadn't been in Intelligence when the Murray brothers first came about, neither was she there for any of the Halstead siblings separate kidnappings so she was trekking in unknown territory.

"Listen Ethan, Will patched me up good." Jay began, turning to the Korean doctor who he knew was concerned about all of their well-beings'. "As soon as I get them back, I'll get seen."

Ethan wanted to argue but knew there was nothing stopping the middle sibling, rolling his eyes he turned to Maggie and asked for some painkillers before addressing him. "The second they're found, you're back in this treatment room."

"Scout's honour doc." Jay promised seriously, taking the tablets and chugging them back with some water he was given by Maggie. "I'll be fine."

And with that, Jay was walking out the room with Hailey trying to keep up with him.

"Jay? What the hell happened?" Hailey asked, picking up her pace so she could stay in step with him. She took note of the fire burning in his eyes and the determination he had in each step despite being injured.

"Where's Voight and everyone else?" Jay asked, ignoring her question as he caught sight of Severide leaning against Hailey's parked car outside the ER.

"They're on their way back." Hailey said, nodding at Kelly to get in the car, shaking her head at him so he wouldn't ask any questions despite how much he wanted to.

"Your hurt and you’re bleeding Jay, you need-“

“My brother and my sister are on the verge of death Hailey!” Jay shouted with a mix of fear, anger and hurt. “They’re bleeding somewhere and my baby sister is scared to death and I need to help them.”

His shouts echoed in the packed out parking lot, his chest heaving as he went on with no one stopping him.

“Will and Y/N are all I have left Hailey.” Jay said shakily, largely contrasting the sheer force he just spoke in. “I’m going to help, I don’t care if it’s the last thing I do.”

There was nothing stopping a man who was about to lose all that he had left to live for.

*****

Intelligence was finally whole again with the addition of Trudy and Kelly, all huddled together under a tent that was set up on middle ground.

When they arrived back in Chicago, the sheer amount of shock on everyone's face was evident.

Trudy had sworn everyone to secrecy but when she first saw Jay, her motherly instincts acted upon themselves as she squeezed the daylights out of him without causing any further injury.

"They dumped me." Jay said, revealing to the team how he'd gotten here. "They suddenly decided to move locations again and decided to dump me around the corner from Med which means they want me alive."

"What about Will and Y/N?" Antonio asked, being the first person to interject Jay since he started to unravel all the small necessary things.

Jay clenched and unclenched his jaw, his eye twitching in frustration as he folded his arms.

"They're still with Jackson and Ezra."

"No offense Jay but why would they get rid of you instead of Will?" Adam genuinely asked, confused as to why two criminals would release the ex-ranger and detective instead of the ER doctor.

All of a sudden, Jay looked like he was going to be sick. Like his new train of thought was going to make him throw up then and there.

"They want to keep Y/N alive for as long as possible, and only Will can do that."

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley

@sowrongitslottie

@elite4cekalyma

@senjoritanana

@hufflepuff-blackwidow

@mrspeacem1nusone

@kmc1989

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Forbidden Fruit

Pairings: Copia X AFAB!Reader Type: Smut Summary: Copia loves bending it over onstage, and you just need to show that ass some appreciation. Warnings: Eating out and pegging Word Count: 2834 Notes: Read here on ao3. This is an AFAB!Reader story, but I don’t think it has specific pronouns. If you want to read this with different pronouns or as an AMAB!Reader story, literally hit me up, and I will send you that version, or repost it. Please don’t be shy in that regard :) Also, I’m going to be real, I wrote this so long ago, I just never ended up posting it (it was literally my first time writing smut), so I don’t really remember a lot of what happens here.

~

There were nights where it was difficult to be away from Copia. Especially with him constantly gone on tour, leaving you with nothing to do. Sure you could try to do some chores with the siblings, or garden with Primo, or just do literally anything, but that never seemed enticing enough.

Instead, you just decided scrolling through TikTok would be a better idea because on occasion, Copia’s gorgeous face would pop up and make the day better. Not that you did that all day every day, but a good portion of your day was spent scrolling on that god awful app.

When Copia finally got his break, you were beyond excited for him to spend his time with you while he prepared for the US leg of the tour.

Copia was beyond relieved when he got out of the car and saw you running towards him, jumping in his arms for a hug and a kiss.

“Did you miss me, dolce?” He asked, gently laughing and holding you tightly.

“Of course I didn’t. I just wanted to run and hug you and never let you go because I hate you,” you joked, knowing he would get a laugh out of the cheesy statement. He let you go, placing a hand on your cheek and smiled. You held his hand to your face and melted into his touch.

“Well I missed you, amore mio. Come, let’s sneak away and leave the ghouls to do the unpacking.”

“How could I say no?” You giggled, pulling him into the Ministry without another word.

He followed along, pleased with how happy you were to see him. When you finally got to the bedroom, he quickly undressed, getting into more comfortable clothing, and laid down, pulling you close to him. “How are you more gorgeous each time I return?” He asked, pulling you into a kiss, then trailing down to nip at your neck and collar. “I could just eat you up,” he chuckled.

“Copia,” you said, sucking in a breath.

He looked up. “Hm?”

“Fuck, I missed you,” you responded, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

“Care to show me just how much my dolcezza missed me?” He chuckled, pulling away.

The moment he pulled away, you flipped him over, sitting on his lap. “You know, you had no reason putting on these pajamas when you knew I would be pulling them off anyways,” you said, pulling off his shirt.

“Maybe you are right,” he said, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him. “Maybe I just wanted to have you undress me,” he smirked, kissing you again. Rolling your eyes, you kissed him back, moving only to tug his pants off so that he was clad in only his boxers. “I feel that you are a little overdressed for this occasion, tesoro.”

“Well maybe I need someone to help me with th-” He wasted no time in flipping you over, pulling off your shirt and shorts, leaving you exposed except for your underwear. “Well someone’s eager.”

“I have been without you for far too long. I’m not delaying this any longer,” he said, ripping your panties off next.

“Those were expensive!” You gasped, playfully shoving him.

“I will buy you new ones,” he dismissed, flipping you over, trailing kisses down your body until he reached your dripping cunt. “So wet,” he mused, sliding a finger through your slick. “All for me?”

“Oh, fuck, yes. All for you,” you moaned, back arching at the contact. He brought his finger to his lips, moaning when the taste of you hit his tongue.

“I’ve been craving a taste of my favorite dish. I’ve waited far too long,” he said, burying his face in your cunt.

His tongue worked magic, swirling around your clit as he pressed one finger into your entrance. You grabbed a handful of his hair, eliciting a groan from him that vibrated through your entire body. “Oh sweet Lucifer,” you moaned, grinding against his face. He pushed another finger in, angling directly for that sweet spot he knew would have you melting into the bed.

He kept his eyes on you as you squeezed yours shut. He pumped his fingers in and out while he continued to eat you out like a man starved. The noises the two of you were making were downright filthy. He was drawing moans out of you, his fingers making squelching sounds as he fucked you with them.

“Shit shit shit, yeah right there,” you chanted as you felt a familiar coil building in your stomach.

“Are you going to cum?” He asked, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Going to cum all over my face and my fingers?”

“Fuck!” You shouted as he dived back into your pussy, clenching around his fingers. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, unholy fuck!”

“That's it. Cum for me,” he said, sucking your clit with more fervor and angling his fingers just right. It was enough to send you over the edge. He worked you through your orgasm, and only pulled away once you started flinching from overstimulation. “That’s it. Good girl,” he praised, coming to lay next to you as you came down from your orgasm. He put a gentle hand on your chin and pulled your face to look at him, then pulled you into a sweet kiss.

You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, and he pulled back with a chuckle. “Ready for round two?” He smirked.

With a nod, you knew it was bound to be a long night.

—

Quiet time was valued by you and Copia both. A way to destress with each other and just chill out without having to talk or do anything. He had been reading a book for the past thirty minutes while you scrolled through your most recent addiction that is the app TikTok – with headphones on of course. There was no reason to disturb the peace.

While scrolling, you found countless baking videos, some BookTok videos, cosplay, but most importantly…tour videos.

A lot of them were with the ghouls being chaotic demons onstage. They were entertaining, but what piqued your interest most was the Copia clip that popped up.

Adjusting your posture, you watched what the creator called a ‘crack video’ of the random things that happened during Mummy Dust.

Some of it was the ghouls, Dewdrop slamming his fist into his guitar, reaching for a person in the crowd, and then jerking off in time to ‘cum’ with the confetti. Or Phantom holding his guitar at weird angles, posing with an oddly threatening aura, or trying out some new hip thrusts. Even Rain and Cirrus had their moments in the video.

But what interested you the most was when Copia popped up. He was just as chaotic as the ghouls. Growling, thrusting, slapping imaginary asses, and fingering the air. But it couldn’t get any better when you saw the perfect angle of someone filming as he bent over, wiggling his ass back and forth as if taunting someone to come and fuck him.

Someone coming up, bending him over the bed, moving their hand from his groping his ass to roaming up his spine, then pressing his head in the bed as they fucked him…Sathanas…what an image…

Clenching your thighs together, you watched as he began to bend forward, sticking his perfect ass out for everyone to ogle. And fuck did he look good. Every curve of him made your mouth water. It was too much just to look at, but you couldn’t look away as he wiggled his ass. He looked absolutely delectable.

 A small moan slipped out of your mouth at the thought of pounding him into neck week, and Copia gave you a look.

“Everything alright, amore mio?” He asked, placing a bookmark in his book and setting it aside as he looked at your phone and removed your headphones.

“How have I never seen this before?” You mused, looking at him with a mischievous grin.

“Ah, so I have caught your attention?”

You rolled your eyes. “When do you not?” You paused and looked at him, admiring his unpainted face and mismatched eyes.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I want to fuck you,” you stated bluntly.

“Well, I am happy to let you climb on to-”

“No. I want to fuck you.”

He gave you a confused look, and you slid off the bed, going to look for the box you had hidden in your dresser. You set it on the bed, then crawled on top of him. He placed his hands on your hips as you began rocking against him, his cock quickly hardening at your movements. “Amore…”

Leaning in to kiss him, you let a small moan slip through your lips. “I want to fucking devour you. Every inch of you is absolutely perfect. Please, Copia, let me…”

“I need a little more context, yes?” He chuckled, nipping at your neck. “What’s in that box, il mio cuore?”

You brought one hand back, blindly searching as you kept your eyes on him and leaning in for another kiss. When you opened it, his eyes went wide.

A nicely sized black dildo, harness, and a bottle of lube were all that was in the box. ‘Oh,” is all he said.

“You can say no.” He just stared at you and the contents of the box dumbly. “Copia?”

“Cazzo,” he cursed. “Si, yes, please,” he said, quickly scrambling to remove his clothes.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you grabbed both of his hands, then leaned in to nip at his neck. “Let me worship you,” you whispered.

He visibly shuddered. “Please,” he begged. You began unbuttoning his pajama shirt, trailing sloppy kisses from his neck to his stomach, leaving practically no bit of skin dry. You made sure to pay close attention to his nipples, biting at one and pinching the other, then switching every few moments. Finally, you made your way to the waistband of his pants. Sitting up, you gently pull the fabric off of him. Of course, no underwear. What was the need when he was next to you? Made for easy access.

You stripped him fully, then began gripping his thighs, appreciating how meaty they were. He let out a moan when you dug your nails in slightly, causing his back to arch.

“Please, amore. I need you,” he moaned, his hands desperately reaching out for you.

“Not yet, darling. I said I wanted to worship you, and I meant it.” Sliding down his body some more, you made your way to his calves. They were so defined that you couldn’t help but press kisses to the soft skin. You trailed kisses back up to his thighs, then began biting, enjoying the way that he bruised easily, allowing you to mark him however you pleased.

He was moaning and desperate, and you knew this was just getting to the point of annoying teasing, which isn’t the intended goal. Bringing one hand to cup his balls, you licked a long stripe up his cock, taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue in ways that made him see stars.

“Vita mia-” he moaned, cut off when you took him fully into your mouth. He laced a hand through your hair to steady himself. “Please, I want to en-enjoy you. I’m going to cum if you -if you keep doing that.” 

Although he asked for it, he whined and bucked his hips when you pulled off. “Bend over the bed,” you commanded, and he couldn’t help but obey. He looked like a desperate whore with how fast he slid off the bed and stuck his ass out, but this wasn’t the time for degradation. This was time for worship. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” you whispered, bringing hands up to knead into his ass. “So perfect~”

“All for you,” he breathed out, trying to push his ass further into your hands.

“All for me, but you’re the one flaunting it onstage. Are you really that needy for attention?” He whined in response. “I’ll give you attention, darling…don’t worry,” you assured, grabbing the bottle of lube from the box. Slicking up your fingers, you smeared some around his hole, causing him to lurch forward at the sensation. “Color?” You asked as you began hooking the dildo into the harness and sliding it on.

“Green,” he huffed out, already overwhelmed by the simple touches he’s received.

With his confirmation, you pressed one finger into him, enjoying the way he clenched at the sudden intrusion. He let out a groan and tried pushing himself back. You placed a hand on his hips to still him, then began thrusting the single finger before adding a second, alternating between thrusting and scissoring to stretch him open. 

“Please, I’m ready. I need you,” he moaned, pushing back against your fingers. He let out a sad noise as you retracted them.

Smearing whatever lube was left on your fingers and a bit more poured from the bottle, you lined up with his hole, barely pressing the head of the dildo into him. He let out a whine, and tried pushing back.

You put a hand on his hip and leaned to whisper in his ear. “Settle,” you said as you began pushing in. He grabbed the bed sheets, twisting them in his hands as you moved. You got about an inch in, then pulled out slightly, and pushed forward more, until it got to the point where your thighs were touching the meat of his ass.

“Your fucking ass is…sathanas this is fucking amazing,” you said, letting the dildo sit in his ass as if he were nothing more than a cockwarmer.

He moaned in response, trying to move on the dildo on his own, prompting you to move. Starting slow, you thrusted forward, eliciting a delicious groan from him. “Amore mio, please…more…” he begged, letting his head fall to the bed, muffling his noises.

Gently, you turned his head to the side, examining his handsome face as you stared in his glassy eyes. “Don’t hide those pretty noises, darling,” you said, punctuating the end of the sentence with a gentle thrust.

He let out a surprised moan, and lost control of what spilled from his mouth.

“You’re so pretty from here. Sathanas, how have I never done this before?” You asked, picking up the pace, punching out moans and grunts. “Taking me so well. Like you were built to be fucked.”

He let out a spent “uh-huh,” in response, fisting the bedsheets and closing his eyes.

“Bet this is what you think about on that stage. Getting dicked down. Wanted to be bent over, and let everyone see just how good you are. So fucking good.”

“Please, tesoro, I need more,” he pleaded. And who were you to resist such a beautiful plea?

One hand trailed up his back, while the other reached around to stroke his cock, which was slick with pre. He was absolutely dripping. It was such a beautiful thing.

He let out a high pitch moan once you hit his prostate dead on. “Yeah? Like that?” He nodded. “Fuck, Copia, you’re so beautiful like this. Laid out and bare, letting me treat you how you deserve. So good.”

There was an attempt to match the pace of stroking his dick in time with your thrusts, but it didn’t last long when you kept nailing directly into his prostate, and his hips began moving on their own.

“Amore, please, can I cum? I need to cum,” he asked, bouncing back on the silicone, not letting you keep your pace.

“Cum for me. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” You twisted your wrist, jacking him off at a simple pace, then swiping a thumb over the tip.

He shuddered and tensed, streams of white covering your knuckles. You fucked him through the orgasm, only getting slower when he began to twitch from the overstimulation.

Carefully, you pulled out, then removed the harness. He stayed in the position until you helped him move to lay on the bed.

He looked practically ruined, and oh so beautiful. “I’m going to grab a washcloth, love, I’ll be back,” you said, slipping off to the bathroom.

He looked half asleep when you came back, and you gently tapped his cheek. “Still with me?” He nodded. “Good.” You took the wash cloth and began wiping him down. You laid next to him, whispering praise while you stroked his peppered hair.

After a few minutes, he came back down to earth. “You didn’t cum,” he said, cuddling into you.

“I wasn’t doing that for me,” you responded, wrapping an arm around him.

“And if I asked to eat you out?”

“Then I would be a fool to say no,” you laughed. He grinned before disappearing between your thighs.

You would definitely be doing this again.