#ooc bread crumbs

[ask-quinn-connors]

[NWIS Quinn is officially here, and I’m kinda really scared of her]

[Summary of the lore I came up with:

Still worked for Stone and Avrille’s family as a kid, but absolutely despised both of them

Ran away on her own terms and joined Ditch’s gang

And now they’re like… dating and shit (dear god kill me)

All around very cocky and short tempered, as well as extremely violent

Hates animals and super bitchy to scraps

0/10; would not recommend (well maybe a 1 bc her fashion sense is still on point)]

[Guys this was genuinely painful to draw…]

[Send all of your complaints to @averagetmntfan for staring this bullshit… (/j I totally brought this upon myself)]

[lilacquintet]

Quinn Has An Ask Blog!!

Her blog is @ask-quinn-connors

Have fun talking to her!

[storywolf]

something something the moral of little red riding hood being not to trust strangers, stranger danger, don't leave the path and don't talk to people you don't know. def don't give them directions to your grandma's house.

something something wolf not trusting anyone, and doesn't expect anyone to trust him - but still often tries to appear trustworthy to strangers, tries to get people to trust him on their first meeting, tries to get them to give him their grandmas address (not literal. could be anything)...... and APPROVES when they don't. when they do trust him he's just like okay you dumbass, you have no one to blame but yourself for the consequences to your actions when i'm eating your grandma. (well, you could blame him. but who's more to blame? the one eating the old lady, or the one who gave him detailed directions on how to get to her house?) (dont answer that.)

[drcmatispersonae]

I used Midnight Brain to conjure up the Beast. Pinned post tomorrow.

[lunaetis]

[ pls let my girl makes an appearance i'm on my knees. ]

[aercnaut-archived]

watching m.ary p.oppins returns last night solidified three things for me: number one, the next person who puts the meme man in pastels needs to have tomatoes thrown at them. number two, i need threads of lee being head over heels, neck deep in a school boy crush on someone. number three, i need more threads where he's just. simply happy.

[komcrebi-moved]

HEAD in my HANDS SCREAMING id sell my left kidney and my leg to write with a toshinori rper, but goodness gracious yall the RPC feels so dead smh

[petitexmagician]

Hoyo fucking added Kokomi, Thoma, and Ei at the last minute and thinks this would be okay

[iiryoku]

Me, sees the smallest mention of Yingxing: starts to ramble

[ask-quinn-connors]

The Realization

[Based on this post]

[Seriously... how did he not figure this out sooner???]

[Also don't mind that I didn't line or color it… I’m not used to making comics (and I’m also just tired from school and shit :P) so I go burnt out FAST]

[aliidarling]

Danny ghostface and him falling in love at first sight with oblivious fem reader

With squirting but no degration plz

Sfw and nsfw plz

love potions

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; danny falls in love with you at first sight and grows an obsession.

warnings: danny, smut, blood, fingering, nice danny because he’s low key ooc, he’s OBSESSED with us, stalker danny kinda, praise, dumb n naive reader if u think abt it

no beta read we die like danny’s victims 😈

nsfw content below!!

danny never thought of himself as the type of person to fall in love. he thought his whole life would be full of blood and gore, and when he eventually got taken away by the dark fog and spawned into the entity’s realm, his future twisted into a more dark scene.

slashing, hooking and tunneling became his routine. he would spawn into trials and do his very best to kill them all, sending them back into the sky with little polaroids as memories. he liked to keep the photos and tuck them away underneath his bed back at his killer shack.

but when he first laid his eyes on you, it was like a rock had dropped right onto his head and see two. you were so gorgeous he almost tripped, earning a small giggle from the suriviors he was currently chasing, steve. a low scoff rumbles through his chest at the sound of steve making fun of him, his eyes narrowing immediately.

“shut the fuck up.” he hisses, grabbing the boy by his collar as he attempts to vault through a window. steve yelps at the sudden grab, wiggling around in his iron grasp as he’s dragged to the nearest hook. a scream echoes throughout the trial grounds, taunting all the survivors how one of them had fallen. how they would be next.

that would normally be the case— but right now danny had something else on his mind. he went into stealth mode once he was at a safe distance from steve, following the scratch marks you had unknowingly left. a little trail of breads crumbs that led him right to you. you crouched in front of a generator, your hands busy with fixing the wired mess the laid inside the machine.

his eyes were glued to you, every lingering thought of the trial slipping through his mind. he couldn’t focus, not when you sat there looking absolutely gorgeous as the moonlight illuminated your face. your soft skin, long lashes, kissable lips and gentle smile—

yeah, he was obsessed.

did you spill a love potion over his head when you weren’t looking? cast witch craft over him? why was his heart pounding so loud? you needed to go. he couldn’t work properly with your pretty face sitting there innocently.

he straightened his posture to lunge at you, but his legs didn’t move. he couldn’t do it. who the hell were you? and why were you so hell bent on taking his breath away?

he had just met you and you were already ruining his life, to his utter dismay. you were taunting his thoughts and distracting him from his goal— sacrificing you all. he groans and starts to walk off, looking for another survivor to stalk and kill. he wouldn’t find any pleasure in downing you. he didn’t know why, but it was something about your pretty face.

he decides on just snapping a few quick shots. he grasps ahold of his camera and positions it at the best possible angle, catching your perfect sweet face and pretty hair, catching how you’re so focused on the generator. the camera shuttle makes a quick flash and catches your attention, but as you turn quickly to find the source he’s already gone, stalking and creeping up on his next victim.

he finds you later, cluelessly walking around the map in search for hatch. he ponders over what he should do with you for a minute. he can either kill you and get it over with, or have some fun with you and eventually give you hatch.

a long few seconds pass of him tapping his chin in thought before he finds himself behind you, peeking you. he lungs forward, arms out, giggling.

“BOO!” he screeched in your ear. your reaction is exactly what he wanted; you immediately scream and stumble forward, falling face down onto the dirt. he almost cringes as he sees you look up at him with a terrified expression, pretty face covered in mud.

“a-ah! oh my god—“ you stammer over your words, not really knowing what to say as you crawl back, frantically patting dirt off your bottom. it was one of your first trials and you had never seen this cloaked man before. your doe eyes scan him, breath quivering, brows furrowing in confusion.

“..you.. you look… like a halloween mascot.” you frown. your fists clench at your sides, standing up and shuffling further from him.

he stares at you blankly from behind his eye holes, unsure on how to respond.

“i’m not a mascot, sweetheart. i’m the killer.” he narrows his eyes at you, making a stabby motion with his hunting knife. you flinch, blinking rapidly. you were too cute, gosh.

“i mean, i know, but like, i would see you at a spirit halloween or something, y’know?” you say hesitantly, stepping up. his eyes gauge out of his sockets as you grow closer. why were you getting closer to him? were you stupid? did you hit your head when you fell?

“what are you doing.“ he stares at you with a confused expression. his cheeks can’t help but flush as you step so close your nose is centimeters away from his chest, your eyes looking at him up and down in awe. it was like you met your hero, your pupils filled with a childish excitement. he almost wants to pet you.

“inspecting you.” you mumble gently, looking at his robe closely. you peer behind him at the floating ribbons attached to the back of his outfit. you reach a hand out to touch one and it immediately moves away, somehow. your lips gape in surprise and curiosity.

“they move by themselves!” you say excitedly.

he’s seconds away from killing you. well, that’s what he tells himself. but deep down he knows if he saw a single scratch on you he’d go insane.

“mmm, yeah. entity did it herself. shows our connection, i guess? favoritism is a funny thing.” he snickers.

“what’s an entity?”

he sighs.

it’s been a few weeks for you since that encounter with the robed man. you’ve seen him every now and then maybe, occasionally getting paired with him. for some reason you always find yourself getting hatch those trials even though in every other trial you’re in you brutally die.

your skill set.. isn’t very good. some of the other survivors aren’t the nicest to you and it sucks. they keep a distance from you, their eyes always glued to your back and whispering snarky remarks. you could hear their voices but you didn’t do anything about it, not having the courage.

one trial you’re paired with, so far, steve. you haven’t seen anyone else yet. you’re working on a generator with him when he suddenly messes it up, causing it to explode in his face. his expression drops and he groans, glancing at you with a flash of anger.

“god damn it, you messed me up!”

you blink stupidly at him, pointing at yourself with a ‘who, me?’ look.

he narrows his eyes further, about to yell at you before something white flashes behind you in a bush. his eyes widen immediately and he knows who the killer is, he’s dealt with this manic so many times that his ears have adapted to immediately notice the sound of his robe wrinkling in the wind. the sound of the shutter was a dead give away as well.

he rushes off without another word, leaving you to ‘die’. well, that’s what he thinks.

danny scoffs from his position in the bush, watching one of his favorite victims scurry off like a wimp, leaving you for your supposed end. he stands to his full height and tucks his knife in, walking up to your figure that hasn’t even noticed him yet, still innocently working at the generator.

“boo.” he whispers in your ear, cackling lowly at how you flinch and cause the generator to explode in your face. you stumble back against his legs, your butt on the floor. you look up and are met with his shrieking mask looking down at you, tilting his head silently.

you immediately relax at the familiar sight of the man.

“danny, you scared me.” you frown, getting up, patting dirt off your butt. he watches, hoping one day he could help you pat away the dirt without freaking you out if his hand accidentally drifts too close to your pretty parts.

“didn’t mean to, doll. you look cute when you’re concentrated. like a lil’ piggy.” he grins.

“did you just call me a pig?” you make a face.

“no, it was a black christmas reference.” his eye twitches.

the rest of the match goes smoothly. smoothly for danny, that is. all your friends die by his hands, getting their bodies stabbed several times with a camera blinding them in their last few seconds before they drift off. he’s in a cocky mood now, high on the feeling of getting a 3k.

it would of been a 4k if you weren’t there, but he’d rather force himself into an hour long conversation with steve then see you bleeding and choking on your own blood.

he’s following behind you closely, practically rubbing against you as you search for hatch. he hums gently in your ear, his hands tugging at your shirt from behind, wanting your attention. you could feel the pout he had on his face.

“you’ve been walking in circles, sweets. this is the third time we’ve passed shack.” he muses, tucking your head under his chin, cuddling into you from behind. you’ve become so used to his clingy nature and his touch that you don’t question it, instead frowning and looking around.

he was right. you had passed shack three times now. you just couldn’t find hatch for some odd reason.

“i can’t find it.” you huff with a small whiney tone. he smiles and squeezes you against him, making grabby motions at your tummy a little.

“we don’t need to be in such a rush, y’know. time ain’t a thing here.” he practically seduces you, leaning so his mouth would be next to your ear if it weren’t for his mask, his voice sending goosebumps down your back. his hands play with the hem of your shirt.

“what do you mean? the hatch is waiting for me, and it’s cold here. i wanna be back at the campfire.” you mutter.

he scoffs at that, hiding his subtle hurt. he decides not to take offense, remembering you were too sweet and dumb to realize what you said was a little mean.

“i could warm you up. c’mon, follow me, pleaseee?” he says, a hidden intention underneath his words.

you sigh, giving in reluctantly. he giggles excitedly and tugs you alongside him like a child, pulling(dragging) you with him to the shack.

when he said he wanted to warn you up, you didn’t think that would mean you in his lap with his hand shoved under your skirt. he was knuckle deep in your pussy, gently abusing your g spot as he soothes and shushes your cries. your moans were so pretty to him, like a rhythmical tune persuading him to push deeper and deeper.

“shh, shh, i’ve gotcha’ baby, you’re sooo wet.” he giggles the last few words, thrusting his fingers in and out faster and faster. you’re legs flail around weakly, your back flush to his chest. as his thick fingers delve deeper you can do nothing but cry out his name, head leaning back against his shoulder with your eyes squeezed shut.

“d-danny! please— gentle— gentle—“ you’re practically shaking in his grasp and he thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. your eyes fluttered shut, glassy tears welling up in the corner, lips tugging into an adorable pout in a weak attempt to conceal your moans..

“i am being gentle, silly baby.” he mocks you by fastening his pace, stripping you of more noises. you sound like a broken record at this point. whimpering over and over again for him, letting out barely coherent words. your limbs are flailing around as you try to grasp onto him, afraid you’ll collapse if he continues. he hums along to your soft cries, his gloved thumb brushing against your clit.

you gasp softly into the air as you feel your clit get brushed against, the bundle of nerves reacting by clamping down around his thick fingers. he coo’d into your ear, mumbling sweet nothings; he repositions his hand so one is focusing on rubbing against your g spot nice and deep inside you, his other hand wrapped around to rub your clit.

the double stimulation makes your eyes roll back, words getting caught on the tip of your tongue. your pussy clenches down hard and he can already tell you’re drifting over the edge. he hugs you tighter and quickens his pace, nuzzling the plastic of his mask into your hair.

“shhh, c’mon, you’ve got it, ruin my gloves with that messy cunt of yours.” he whispers, watching with his dark eyes as your pussy spasms and coats the fabric of his gloves with your cum. your orgasm drips down his fingers, still shoved deep inside you, gently swirling it around teasingly.

“good girl. let’s get you cleaned up and on your way to hatch, yeah?”

[mypearlsareclutched]

We're Sinking Into The Sand

High By The Beach | Chapter Eleven

Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character, Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

After the chaos that was Viserys' funeral, Mila heads back to Old Town to help the Targaryen she loves. But it was Aemond who brought her and Aegon together, will it be him who tears them apart?

BTDubs this was where I was originally planning on ending the series but I had SO MUCH MORE TO SAY about Mila and the Targs and ole Creggie and the homies. So (as you can tell from the masterlist) there are a further six chapter coming after this mwah. Also I updated hella quick, huh? Who's proud of me <3

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), smut, angst, joking at an inappropriate time Aegon style, Old Town and the beach house, drugs, mentions of addictions, HELLA angst at the end, British lingo, morning sex, passionate missionary yuh, consent is sexy, Aegon is OOC in that respect, enjoy the good vibes while they last because I'm here to hurt your feelings <\3

Word count | 5.2k

previous chapter // next chapter

It took almost a whole day to drive back to Old Town. Which was good time. She drove like a bat out of hell, never stopping. Except for traffic lights, because having the police on her ass was not in the cards. By the time she arrived to her destination, the sun was falling down in the sky once again.

Parking Laena's car in the driveway of the Old Town beach house, Mila breathes out a sigh she didn't realize she had been holding in her lungs since leaving the Targaryen home.

Just the sight of the house relieved tension inside her very bones, the smell of the sea air drifting through the open windows and the sound of seagulls flying high above all made her feel like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Another car was parked beside the house, expensive looking and clearly the car Aegon had stolen from Viserys' garage. Mila walked past it to the house, holding the front door's handle with shaky hands.

The house is unlocked, the keys discarded on the table near the door, next to Aegon's alien sunglasses. He must be here.

"Aegon?" Mila calls out, stepping into the entryway.

The house is silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock against the far wall. No lights have been turned on, the room is shadowy and painted with strips of sunlight from the surrounding windows. A small sliver of darkness catches Mila's eye, and she crouches down to pick up a black tie.

A pair of sandy, black dress shoes lie a few feet away, the discarded garments leading a bread crumb trail right to the bedroom. Mila stands, walking to the door in search of the MIA Targaryen. A relieved sigh leaves her when she sees him.

He's lying on the bed, legs splayed out over the edge and eyes closed. His black suit from the funeral is still in tact, save for the tie and his shoes.

"Hey-"

"Seven hells!" Aegon exclaims, sitting up. His wide eyes blink at her, before he exhales out a laugh, "Jesus, Em, you scared the shit out of me."

Mila laughs as she shakes her head, her own spirits lifting as she looks at his smiling face, a much prefered alternative to the grimace he wore during his father's funeral.

"So, you took a page out of my book and fled the Targaryen prison?" He asks, standing up.

"Yeah, and Otto is going to drag you by your short and curlies right back there." Mila shakes her head, smoothing her hands over the crinkled black dress she still wore.

"Let him try." Aegon chuckles, "I can disappear if I want to."

He wraps his arm around her waist, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate yet gentle kiss. Mila sinks into it, letting out a please hum as he licks along her lower lip.

The kiss grows heated, and Aegon's hands are quick to wrap around her and pick her up, spinning her around to deposit her on the bed. Mila's legs open automatically to welcome him in, his weight a comforting presence against her sore body. Soft hands run through her hair, over her thighs. Chapped lips run along her neck.

Aemond's hands... Aemond's mouth...

"Baby, stop." Mila says softly, guilt wracking her body as she pushes him away gently. Aegon's face falls, but not from disappointment. Concern is evident on his cherubic features, his hands leaving her as he sits up and looks at her worriedly.

"What's wrong? We don't have to if you don't want to-"

"I fucked Aemond." Mila bites out, closing her eyes.

Aegon is silent, and her stomach drops. He blinks at her, and she can see his mind processing what she just said.

"Oh." He says, voice soft and robotic.

"Aegon-"

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay." He shrugs, lying back down on the bed, "That's fine, it's your body, babe."

"Aeg-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Aegon sighs, one hand coming to cover his eyes, as his other hand takes hers. Mila looks down at their clasped fingers, squeezing his hand.

"I'm so sorry."

"Hey, shh." He sits up, eyes once again soft and face warm again, taking her hands in his, "I'm not mad at you, baby. I would never be. This shit is complicated. I just... don't want to hear the details. It'll make me want to cut open my stomach and pull out all my internal organs.

"I wouldn't tell you." She smiles weakly, reaching a hand up to move a stray strand of his hair out of his eyes, "It meant nothing, really. It was just... a moment of weakness. I got too caught up in who I wanted him to be, instead of who he really is. I want you, for who you really are."

Aegon smiles sadly, "If you saw me for who I really am, you would run for the hills."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"All you do is surprise me." Aegon laughs, nosing at her hand as it fiddles with his shoulder-length hair, "Wherever you were yesterday doesn't matter to me. I'm just glad you're here now, with me. I really do love you, Em. So much."

"I love you, too." Mila reaches a hand up and cups his cheek, his face leaning in to hers, "Otto is still going to come for you."

Aegon is silent, his head lifting so he can look over at the ocean through the window panes. The sun has begun to set, casting the bedroom in a hue of blush pink and burnt orange. A far away look forms in Aegon's blue eyes, a small crinkle appearing between his pale brows as he thinks.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Mila asks, prodding his temple playfully.

Aegon sighs, looking at her, "Suicide pact?"

"Aegon."

"So that's a firm 'no' on the suicide pact?"

"I need you to take this seriously." Mila says, taking his chin in between her thumb and forefinger.

"I am." Aegon says as smiles, taking her hands in his, "I'm taking this seriously."

"This?" Mila laughs, confused.

"This. You and me. This. Us." Aegon smiles, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Us?"

"Us."

The next morning, as the sun rose over Old Town, Mila woke up encased in the warm arms of Aegon Targaryen.

She slept like the dead, immediately falling into the land of dreams after Aegon had helped her get out of her dress. He grimaced at it, throwing it in the bin, waving away Mila's complaints.

"You look better in the crappy clothes we got from big Tesco anyway." He grins, tossing her an oversized shirt with the words 'Straight Outta Old Town' written on the back. She rolled her eyes with a smile of her own as she put it on, laughing at Aegon's ogling as he removed his own clothes and threw on some joggers.

The second her head hit the pillow, and Aegon wrapped around her from behind, Mila was out like a light.

When the sun rose, she never wanted to leave this room again.

Aegon murmurs sleepily behind her, offering a quiet 'good morning' when he realises she is awake. Mila hums back, turning around in his arms. He gives her a dopey grin, eyes barely open. She returns his smile, reaching her hand up to trace along his face from his eyebrow, down his nose, and across his jaw. When Mila's fingers dance across the skin of his lips, Aegon purses his lips to kiss her finger tips.

She leans in for a kiss first, and he meets her halfway. Their lips meet in a loving dance, noses brushing and hands grasping onto whatever was in reach.

In an instant, Aegon rolls on top of her, kissing her feverishly as he covers Mila's body with his own. Her thighs open for him to lie in between them, flushes skin pressing against one another.

"Is this okay?" Aegon asks softly, desperate to feel more of her but unwilling to go beyond her boundaries.

"More than okay." Mila affirms, leaning up to kiss him again. He groans against her lips, his hands continuing their exploration as his hips buck against her one.

The hot tip of him presses against her wetness, and they gasp into each other's mouths. Aegon shifts forward, slowly fucking into her as she mewls against him, throwing her head back at his familiar, euphoric size.

"That's it, baby." Aegon murmurs, pressing his face into her neck as he begins thrusting into her sensually, dragging his hips back and forward in slow, loving strokes, "Fuck... feels so good."

"Aegon..." Mila moans out, running her hands over his hair and kissing his temple, "I love you."

"I love you too... so much..." His words trail off as his speed increases, fucking her in earnest. The sound of Mila's breathy whines and Aegon's grunts fill the room, mixed with the sounds of skin meeting skin.

Mila's orgasm creeps up on her, making her body jolt as a loud moan leaves her parted lips. Feeling her tighten around him, Aegon speeds up, breathing out curses and praises.

"You feel so good, baby, fuck!" He grits out around clenched teeth, grabbing the back of her knees to press her thighs to her chest, opening her wider. Mila gasps as he fucks her harder, hips pistoning into her with passion yet great care. Her peak subsides, and her body trembles with overstimulation.

"Aegon, fuck... 's too much..." Her eyes roll back, her hands weakly gripping onto the sheets below her and the pale, soft skin of Aegon's thigh.

"Doing so well for me, doll. Making me feel so fucking good. I can feel you getting tighter, wanna feel you cum again. You can give me another, right baby?"

"M-hm!" Mila bites her lip, words leaving her as Aegon angles his

"Right there? That feel good? Fuck, look at you." He praises, his eyes trained on her writhing body below him, "Come on, baby, need to feel you cum again. Please, baby."

"Aegon, fuck!" Mila shrieks, shaking uncontrollably as her legs tighten, her cunt gushing around him as he pushes her over the edge again.

The feeling sends Aegon over the edge, his pace faltering until he shudders and thrusts into her as far as he can go, painting her walls with his spend. Eyes rolled back, Aegon mumbles praises and promises and recites Mila's name like a prayer as his cock throbs, releasing all he has into her soft heat.

The Stark below him feels boneless and content, her knees still pressed to her chest and her cunt still full of Aegon's softening cock, her walls trying to push him out as she moans softly in overstimulation.

When he finally pulls out, both of their releases leak out of her, making Aegon groan at the sight, "Fucking beautiful."

Mila smiles sleepily, eyes blurry. She winces when she stretches her legs out, her hips and thighs burning.

"I'll be right back, Em." Aegon says softly, kissing her knee before rising off of the bed.

As hus weight disappears, Mila whines as she waves her hand to try to stop him. His tired chuckle makes her heart flutter, and after a minute he returns. A cold rag presses against her inner thighs, cleaning the mess they had made. Aegon's hands are gentle as he soothes her aching muscles, pressing kisses against her flushed skin.

"Sit up, baby." Aegon softly orders, and Mila rises slowly onto her elbows. The cold feeling glass presses against her lips, and she swallows down the offered water.

Satisfied that she's clean and hydrated, Aegon kisses her forehead before getting up again, putting the empty glass and soiled rag in the adjoining bathroom.

"I'm going to have one hell of a time trying to walk later." Mila smiles, dazed. Her eyes follow Aegon as he enters the room again.

"Oh, so you think you're leaving this room?" Aegon asks with a mischievous grin, diving back into the bed atop a laughing Mila.

The next day, Aegon drags her along an unfamiliar street. It's old, all ancient cobblestone walkways and winding alleys covered in ivy.

"Woah, Aeg, chill." Mila finds herself laughing, gripping onto Aegon's hand as he pulls her along like an overexcited puppy.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Aegon says, a beaming smile across his face.

Mila had never been to Honeyholt before. She had woken up this morning to Aegon laying on top of her, his chin against her sternum as he watched her sleep.

"Creep." Mila murmurs, a smile on her lips. Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes with his own cheeky grin as he presses a kiss to her collarbone and stands up.

"Come on, lazy, we've got things to do."

"Lazy? You're the one who twisted me up like a pretzel from dawn to dusk yesterday, no wonder I'm tired." Mila laughs, exasperated as she fluffs up her pillow and gets cozy again, "Also, what things? I don't know if I have the energy to do that last thing we did again."

"As much fun as that was, no. We have more fun things to do." He says as he pulls on his jeans, searching the room for a clean shirt.

"What's more fun than a sixty-nine bridge?"

"If you want the answer to that age old question, you should get your perky ass out of bed." Aegon wiggles his eyebrows as he tosses her a shirt.

Honeyholt was beautiful. Cultural, historic, full of tiny shops and homes. They pass smiling faces around every corner, including a flock of old ladies who chuckle as Aegon drags Mila down the street towards the unknown location.

Out of breath from running and laughing, Mila is grateful for when Aegon halts with an enthusiastic, 'Ah!'

She tosses her windswept curls over her shoulder as she watches Aegon walk into an old shop, dusty and seemingly disused. When he realises she is not following him, he pops his head out the doorway.

"Come on, then!" He calls, beckoning her forwards.

Mila laughs as she follows him in, her jaw dropping when she gets a good look at the place.

It had long been abandoned, cobwebs and dust covering most surfaces and furniture. But underneath the years of misuse, was a work of art. Antique chairs and tables dotted around, dark wooden floors covered in floral rugs. The wallpaper was peeling, and some mould had begun to grow, but the dark coloured spirals of the painted paper remained vivid. Along the back wall were ancient bookcases, and dirty chandeliers were hung from the ceiling.

Aegon bounces around the room, picking up fallen chairs in his wake before he leans against a fireplace across the room, looking at her for her reaction.

"What is this place?" Mila asks in awe, eyes wide with wonder as she walks around the small yet beautiful shop.

"It's just some old litt place. It was like a cafe or something until the lady who runs it, you know, bit the dust."

Mila rolls her eyes at his candidness, running her fingers along the dusty bookshelves that lined the far wall, "It's beautiful here."

"And cheap, too." Aegon comments, walking over to her to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, "The old owners son wants to get rid of it so the price is beyond reasonable."

"You're thinking of running a cafe? Aw, will you wear a frilly little apron while you're at it? You'll look so cute." Mila jokes, turning around in his embrace to kiss along his jaw.

Aegon rolls his eyes, but his smile never falters, "It doesn't have to be a cafe, dumbass. It could be anything we want once we buy it."

Mila stops, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Once we what?"

"Buy it." He says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm thinking bookshop in the front, tattoo parlour in the back. Our own little haven."

"That's absolutely crazy." Mila laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck, "You're crazy."

"You love it." Aegon smiles as he leans in to kiss her.

"I love you, you crazy Targaryen."

They stayed like that for a while, standing in the cramped and dirtied room of a shop that promised a future for them both.

They had stopped off to get petrol on the way back from Honeyholt, when Aegon's phone began to ring.

Mila was paying inside the station, chatting idly to the woman behind the counter. Leaning against the car, Aegon watches her with a small smile, studying the movement of her lips as she spoke, and they way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

His phone ringing caught him off guard. Looking around, he noticed it lying in the back seat where he had flung it over his shoulder on the way here the night of Viserys' funeral. Helaena had given it back to him, chastising him ever so gently for leaving Weirwood without any of his belongings.

Grabbing it, he looks down at the caller ID, a groan escaping him as he rolls his eyes at the name.

"Piss off." He sighs into the phone.

"Hello to you to." Aemond scoffs, voice already sounding annoyed, "Is she there?"

"Who?"

"Hilarious. My fucking girlfriend."

"Which girlfriend? The hot one, or the dinosaur? Oh, wait, the hot one abandoned you after pity fucking you and came back to me."

"...So she is there."

"...No."

"Aegon." Aemond sighs, his rings knocking together as he seemingly runs a hand over his face, "Stop being childish for five minutes, and listen to me."

The older brother laughs, "Listen to you? What could you possibly say to me right now that won't make me hurl this phone into the sea?"

"What did you buy?"

"Should have bought condoms the way this is going." Aegon chuckles, eyes flicking to Mila once again.

"No, Aegon." Aemond's voice takes a dangerous tone, "What did you buy? On your way back to Old Town."

Aegon's blood runs cold, ice water in his veins. He swallows, turning around, as if looking in Mila's direction suddenly hurt to do, "How the fuck did you know?"

"You forget that I've known you all my life, and how you operate as a scumbag junkie for almost two decades." Aemond laughs cruelly, the sound prickling Aegon's eardrums like needles.

"I haven't done anything." He emphasises, "I wasn't going to-"

"Yes you were. If Mila hadn't turned up when she did you would already be stoned beyond human capabilities, possibly even dead. Now, wouldn't that be a shame."

"What the fuck do you want, Aemond?!"

"For you to end things with her."

"Then you are out of your goddamn mind." Aegon bites, knuckles going white around the phone as he grips onto it, "I won't. You can't make me."

"I'm not going to make you, Aegon." His brother chuckles humorlessly, "You've proved time and time again that you won't listen to a single thing we ask of you, even when we try to help you. But it's not you I want to help, not now."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Mila should not be around a bad influence like you, Aegon. She's a recovering addict. She's unstable, and delicate right now. And she's going to relapse if she's around you."

"She won't-"

"But she will. Because you will." Aemond explains, simply as if he were educating a child, "You've been down this road far too many times, brother. You will go back to your vices the second things get too hard. Mila stopped you from getting high this time, but at some point, the thrill of being with her will wear off for you. As it always does."

"She's different."

"Oh they were all different to you!" Yells Aemond, startling Aegon into docile silence, "It's all different until it's mundane. Until you get used to those feelings she inspires within you. Then you'll go back to drinking, or to snorting, or injecting, until it's fucking. It'll be all of those and she won't be able to handle it, Aegon. She will relapse."

Aegon flinches, his hands twitching as he takes a shuddered breath, feeling his heart crack at the thought, "I wouldn't do that to her."

"You wouldn't try to, Aegon." Aemond says, his voice softer now, "But you can't protect her from yourself."

It's silent. Aegon swallows this information like a bitter pill. It leaves an aftertaste like bile in his dry mouth, his heart beating like the hooves of a racehorse and his stomach twisting into knots.

Because he's right, a voice whispers inside his head. You are beyond saving. No matter how many times you try, you always go back to your wicked ways. Can you live with yourself? When you poison her, like a spec of black dye in a basin full of crystal clear water? You will ruin her, because that is what you always do.

It is almost like Aegon can hear Aemond reeling back for the final punch, his brother's voice like a siren's when he states...

"Mila deserves better than you."

A blow to the gut, because it is true. Aegon knew it from the second he met her, from the second he saw her smile and heard her laugh. She was good and she was kind and Aegon will kill her.

"Rot in all of the seven hells, brother." Aegon bites out, ending the call. He takes a shaky breath, blinking away tears he hadn't realised had formed. He throws his phone as far as he can, watching it flicker with light reflected by the sun before it disappears into the long grass.

Turning in place, he watches as Mila waves goodbye to the shop clerk, smiling to herself as she walks out the station and heads his way.

If only he felt the contentment she feels. But all he feels is sick.

Mila knew something was wrong the second they got in the car. Aegon wouldn't respond to anything she said, except a few hums and one-worded answers. His smile had vanished, the light in his eyes dimmed.

It broke her heart, because she had no idea what could have caused it.

When they finally got to the beach house, Aegon disappeared inside, walking on autopilot like a ghost. Mila watched him with wary eyes, biting the skin around her gnarled thumb nail.

Inside, he was nowhere to be seen. The taunting ticking of the grandfather clock was the only noise that greeted her, and she glared at it as she walked past, heading towards the bedroom.

Aegon was standing beside the bed, looking down at the rumpled sheets with a frown.

"Aeg?" Mila says softly, standing in the doorway. The room felt cold, the beginnings of winter making the overall temperature drop, but an icy chill surrounded Aegon.

"You need to go." He says, voice quiet.

Mila freezes, staring at him with furrowed brows, "Huh?"

He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, groaning against his palms.

"I need you to go. You can't be here anymore." With a shrug, he finally looks at her, face emotionless and eyes stony.

Standing before her, was the Aegon she never met. Something in him had changed, switched gears inside his head. His entire aura became somber, uninspired... broken.

Looking into his dulled eyes, Mila took a step forwards. But he took a step back, working his jaw as he flexed and unflexed his hands beside him.

"Aegon... I don't understand what you're saying." Mila pleads, hoping to the old gods and the new that he's not saying what he .

"We can't be together." He shrugs, "Aemond was right. I'm going to fall back into old patterns, and when that happens, it's going to fuck you up. Worse than Aemond did. I'm not good for you."

"It was Aemond on the phone wasn't it?" Mila chokes on a bitter laugh, looking up to the ceiling as she runs her hands through her hair, "I saw you talking on the phone. Aegon, baby, please, let's just talk this through."

"You're wasted on me." He mutters to himself, "You should get out while you still can, before I make you worse."

"All you've done is make me better, Aeg." Mila insists as she takes another step closer to him.

Hearing her insistence, Aegon stares off into the distance, his face hardening while his eyes remain shining with unshed tears.

"Quick question." Aegon says, his voice turning cruelly playful, "Did Aemond tell you to come here when he was balls deep inside you or was it kind of like a pillow talk conversation afterwards?"

Shocked by his impersonal voice and crude statement, Mila is take aback, a shiver running down her spine, "Aegon-"

"No, no, don't answer that." Aegon waves his hands, "I'm sure it doesn't matter."

"It's different with you. All of it is different. What I have with you is so much realer than what I ever had with him."

Aegon scoffs.

"Aegon, I want this. I want us. We can do this."

"We can't." Aegon chuckles, "Because Aemond was right. At the end of the day, you're going to go back to him and I'm going to go back to all of the other shit."

"No, you're not, Aegon. You're not-"

"Will you stick by me?" Aegon asks, his voice taking a taunting tone, "When I come home drunk or high or smelling like some other pussy would you just sit back and forgive me?"

"You're not going to do that, you're doing so much better, you wouldn't-"

"No? I wouldn't? What's this then?" Aegon stomps over to the bedside table, opening the drawer hard enough to send it clattering to the floor. Various items scatter against the faded carpet, but one item in particular makes Mila's heart stop.

A ziplock bag full of various coloured pills and powder filled baggies, "You didn't...."

"Oh yes I did, baby. Stopped round an old buddies house the night after the funeral. Got all the best flavours here; LSD, ket, some molly too, I know you love that... ooh, and some crystal, didn't even realise that was in there-!"

"Stop it." Mila says, trying to keep her voice level though it shakes.

"Ah, come on, baby. Let's have a little fun, eh?" He taunts, shaking the bag in her face, "We both know I will, so are you just going to sit pretty and watch me?"

"Why are you being like this?" Mila yells, frustration building as she watches the man she's loved turn into the nightmarish, fictitious man Aemond warned her about.

"So boring." Aegon groans dramatically, flinging the bag away across the room, "I'll go back to one of my addictions, doll, so pick one. Maybe you would prefer it if I did what my brother did, hm? What if I found myself my own Alys Rivers? Some hot, older lady that I can stick my dick into every time I get sick of you. Maybe I was too quick to judge my dear brother. If I had you on my ass every second of every day I'm sure I would also be dying for some other cunt-"

Aegon is silenced as his head whips to the side, Mila's palm stings as it lingers in the air.

She slapped him. She can't believe it for a second, too shocked

Mila stumbles back, cradling her hand to her chest as sobs wrack her body.

He watches her, cheek slightly red from where her hand struck him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You're right, Aegon." Mila sobs, "We can't be together."

Though she fully intended to drive away, Mila sat in Laena's car, suddenly struck with an uncertainty of where she would go.

Her apartment in Kings Landing was stained with memories of Aemond, every item of furniture lines with scars where he once sat, stood, lay. Mila used to think fondly about how his cologne could be smelt in the air, on her blankets and on her couch cushions, but now the thought of smelling his scent turned her stomach.

It no longer felt like the comforting aroma of the man she loved, but the scent of a man who claimed her, used her, broke her.

She could go to Cregan's. Or Baela's, or back to Dragonstone where Rhaenyra would always wait with open arms.

But the beauty of Old Town boiled down to its distance. The distance from King's Landing and all the sordid experiences Mila had there that haunted her past. The parties, the clubs, the bars. The drinks, the drugs, the men, the women, the people whose genders mattered not to her in the moments where their lips touched. All the nights spent drifting from reality with magic in her veins, the mornings crashing back down to the real world in fits of sweating and throwing up the contents of her stomach.

The year where she made new memories no longer wrapped in a drunken haze, were ones she made by Aemond Targaryen's side.

Mila could not go back to King's Landing, because the ghosts will be waiting for her.

But she could go to another haunted place.

Pulling out the pay-as-you-go phone, she dialed Baela's number. The sound of her best friend's soft voice greeting her made her feverish skin cool a bit, "Hi, gorgeous. Are you okay? Mom told me you borrowed her car and left the city."

"Yeah, I needed to get away, needed to talk to Aegon." Mila says, her voice thick with her tears.

She can hear Baela sit up straight in her chair, her voice taking a concerned lilt, "Mila? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"It doesn't matter." Sighs the Stark girl, "I'm going home."

"Okay, babe. Do you want me to set up my sofa so you can sleep on it?"

"No, Bae. I'm going home."

It's silent on the other end for a moment, seagulls caw in the near distance, and another tea tracks a warm trail down Mila's face.

"Holy shit... really?" Baela asks in a soft voice.

"Yeah." Mila sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve. The sun looms behind the beach house, casting the patio and driveway in shadows. Within the darkened windows, the shadow of Aegon watches from behind the sheer curtains.

"I'm going back to Winterfell."

AN// nOW LISTEN PUT THE GUN DOWN I CAN EXPLAIN. Don't hurt me for making Emiliaegon fight :( we are all children of divorce. TRUST things will get better. The sadder the angst, the sweeter the subsequent fluff <3

Lula x

[ask-quinn-connors]

[Just wanted to put this here]

Stares at you with big ol eyes

Rah

Quinn and Avrille as kids basically just being A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman

And the scene before the song when Phineas’s dad brought him to visit Charity’s dad and the two met

You’ve been feed :>

Sorry man I’ve been sooooooooo busy today TvT

Got my ears pierced tho, so that’s fun :D

[venusandsaturnsrings]

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

[velisle]

ᯓ♡ not maid for love .ᐟ

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 // nika x fem!reader, 2.8k wc, sfw. 𖹭 ── 𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 // pre-relationship, reader is (in denial) crown's fairytale keeper but not kate, nika being nika, likely ooc since there's only bread crumbs of his lore, al cameo, invented side characters, harassment from non-suitor, canon typical plot. 𖹭 ── 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 // I wish cherry boy was as popular as his twin but sadly he isn't. So here's a little something i maid for him hehe (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

Twilight stains the sky in a messy palette of oranges, pinks and reds. Its rays spill into a certain room, enveloping it in its warmth. It goes on to veil the pure white walls, the ink splattered papers on the table, and — the soft profile of a person.

You nervously tug at the frilly hem of your apron, throwing quick glances toward the mirror and back at yourself. The reflected figure on the clear surface is donned in a maid’s attire from head to toe.

Sighing gently, you pull and tweak on its parts. From the lacy head-dress to the ends of the creamy bow tied behind your back, and to the concealed handgun on your garter belt. At last, you twirl around a bit, making sure there would be nothing amiss.

Still, immersed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice the pair of deep ocean eyes eagerly sinking you into its depths.

Your heart leaps through your chest when the sharp wolf whistle penetrates your ears. Head whiplashing, you glare at the culprit leaning against the doorframe. A cheeky grin from the dark-haired man welcomes you.

Nica.

The two of you have been going out on awfully many missions the past few months, courtesy of his white-clad leader, who proposed that both organizations should work together. Though you suspected foul hand to be at play from your Palace Reaper as well. Why else would you find yourself tied to the frivolous German each time?

“Where are your manners?” You cross your arms as you question, displeasure evident in your posture. A small chuckle escapes him, “My bad, Miss Robin.”

He taps his knuckles on the wooden material — twice, thrice — his rings clinking against it.

“So then, may I enter?”

Was he not practically inside already?

“Go ahead.”

Nica strolls in, turning to admire the delicate crystals of the chandelier and the brilliant gold that matched the otherwise pale room. Were you a stranger to his habit of unplanned visits, you would have thought it was his first time here.

Casting you a prolonged once-over as you button up your maid cuffs, he manspreads on the rich chesterfield, sprawling an arm over the top of it.

“Sure you can play your role well, cute Robin?”

“I think we should be worried about you instead, Clever.⁽¹⁾ Are you sure you'll be able to behave yourself?” You furrow your brows tensely.

The event you were going to attend was to last two days and three nights. Coupled with his charming penchant for going off script and improvising things by himself… You had a not-so-wonderful intuition that everything would eventually end up heading south.

He curves his lips impishly, visibly amused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ll be a good boy.”

“When pigs fly.”

“Autsch,⁽²⁾ after all the time we've spent together! I'm rather disappointed you still refuse to trust your partner in crime.”

You throw a glimpse at him from the corner of your eye. Not a tinge of sadness marred his features.

“There are,” you begin, “plenty of reasons as to why I shouldn't.”

A pervading silence follows as he falls unusually quiet. As if he were trying to figure out the convincing reason you had. The golden hour crowns him in its soft light, shadows fleeing from behind.

“Is it because I used my Curse on you before? I just couldn't help myself. We don't always have a choice, you know~”

You were not too fond of how you liked the way he drawled his words sometimes.

“Or maybe it's because I lent my hand for other uses? Buuut, I don't recall you telling me to stop,” his grin widens.

“Nica Schwartz.”

You swivel to face him, with a twitching smile and a raised nerve on your temple. The way he spoke had to be on purpose. Your mind inevitably flew into the direction he wanted.

Though you could not deny enjoying your banter with him. Few people manage to truly push your buttons — such as that cranky fairy or lascivious mirror, but never quite like the sly swan.

“Ja,⁽³⁾ Robin?” He asks in an innocent manner, which would be more befitting of his twin than himself.

“We’re running late,” you curtly state as you wrap your fingers around the handle of your leather-bound luggage. When you lifted it up, its weight dragged your hand down slightly.

You then make your way to the double doors, only to be stopped by blunt nails digging into your wrist. That and the coolness of adorned rings.

“Say, doesn't it look heavy for a little bird like you?” Nica had the sleeve of one arm rolled up, revealing the veins climbing on his skin like a vine.

“Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten.⁽⁴⁾”

It was not all that heavy, but who were you to refuse if he's so kind?

“Oof!”

A low, misty layer of fog covers the forest of oak trees. The wind wails a scream, tearing dead leaves from their spiny branches. One of them slams flat against the glass, which you were staring through.

Bump!

Every so often, the wheels of the crested carriage jolted when it collided with the rocks on the path. You fidget in the cushioned seat, annoyed at the feeling of polished boots digging into the side of your waist.

Much to your dismay, Nica thought it was apparently a good idea to stretch his legs in the already cramped space. This left you sandwiched between the wall and his lower limbs — and it was not the most splendid combination.

You travel a glance from the tip of his pristine shoes, to the river of white that ran across his trousers and vest, until you docked at the port of blue that was his eyes. If you stared hard enough, vague dark circles polluted the edge of the waters.

He must have been staying up late. Despite his slacking attitude, he knew when to take work seriously. Or rather, fool you into thinking you have the winning cards when he conceals a royal flush beneath his table.

“Am I that charming tonight?”

An abrupt question pulls you back from your shores to reality. He had caught you in his net. Biting your tongue lightly, you shift your attention to the scenery rolling past the window.

Poke!

Poke!

Nica nudges his foot against you.

“Robiiiin~”

“Stop,” you narrow your eyes in warning.

“Oh, this?”

Poke!

“Or thiiiis~?”

No words could describe the urge you felt to scuffle over and clasp your hand on his mouth. Tape it shut.

You steal a quick look at the smooth arch broadening on his face. It seemed to always dance on his lips. Rare were the instances you found it halting into a frown. Even then, it was likely feigned. Will all you ever see of him be his superficial side?

“What’s your pretty head thinking about now?” He doesn't move this time.

“The mission.” A lie.

“Nothing to fret about when you have me.”

“That’s if you don't get kidnapped first,” you retort. A surge of missing socialites is what drove Crown to investigate further into the case that could be human trafficking.

Oddly, the victims all had received an invitation to a banquet from the same organisation a week prior to their disappearance — Regal.

“Chances are that I could charm my way out of it, Robin. If not… Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten,⁽⁵⁾” Lazily tapping on the holster by his thigh, he flashes his pearly white teeth, as if it were a everyday situation for him.

Thump!

The landau stopped before the gates of the venue. Nica promptly sets down his legs, motioning his head towards the place, “Ladies first. I'll be joining you later.”

Upon entering the estate, you are greeted with a towering hallway of a golden hue; enormous paintings that cost more than money than you could ever make hanging on it.

You briefly peek into the open ballroom. Velvet curtains draped the windows, with ornate candelabras fixed to walls. The sound of violins and the piano flows into the room, but not many guests.

Your next stop should be servants’ quarters. Wooden baggage in hand, you saunter through the luxurious building, the layout of which you have memorized beforehand.

It was not hard to imagine someone could get lost here, given its size, you muse. Still, vanishing into thin air without any traces? A nigh impossible feat for anyone… Well, save for the curious Cheshire cat you knew.

“Oh!”

“Ah!”

Moments later, you unceremoniously crash into a petite figure while taking a turn around the corner. Vivid green, partly hidden behind a fringe of blond, widens as she stumbles on her heels.

“Sorry, I-” the two of you spoke at once. You pause awkwardly, waiting for her to continue.

“Don’t worry! I was in no hurry,” she steadies herself, a soft smile curving up the corners of her mouth. You take in her appearance — hair that cascaded down to her waist in thick drills, scattered freckles on her fair cheeks — and a surprisingly similar maid dress to your own?

“Wait, by any chance, are you new here?” a sparkle lit in her eyes at the realization as she too observed you and the case you carried. You nod your head, holding out your free hand, “Robin. Nice to meet you…?”

“Dahlia!” she shakes it with an extreme fervor. “The others and I have been talking a lot about you. Not in a bad way, uh I mean, it's rare for Regal to hire a new employee, so we were just really excited!”

It was the Queen's Aide who pulled some strings to let you enter as a maid, under the common alias Crown, and a certain Vogel member called you by. Strangely, you cannot recall a time where Nica called you by your real name.

Dahlia links her own arm with yours. “Come! I'll show you where the quarters are. And the rest of the place, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Oh, and maybe we can share a room?” She sings sweetly in a jovial tone.

She talks a lot; you note mentally.

After setting down your belongings, you head towards the grand ballroom where the gathering was held. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the horde of perfumed bodies.

The billowing, silky skirts of noblewomen graze your body as you shuffle in between them, clutching a tray with both hands. Bubbles pop off in the champagne flutes on it.

“It is rumored Count Fitzwilliam is looking for a bride…”

“Have you heard about what Lady Spencer did during the last outing…”

Conversations, both hushed and outspoken, were easily heard by you. The aristocrats paid no attention to a mere maid after all.

“They say we have an ambassador from another country here tonight,” a faint whisper makes you perk up your ears. “Whom?” another person inquired.

You concentrate on their words, feeling your heart pound faster for an inexplicable reason. It must be the adrenaline from trying to not come off as suspicious.

“I don't know his name, but they say he's German.”

“Did you get to see him?”

“From afar, yes…”

Pat!

You felt a sudden, foreign touch on your shoulder — not in a good way. It made the hairs on your nape rise warily.

“Why, hello there, lass…” A harsh, gruff voice.

Standing behind you was a man with wrinkly, creased skin and a head bald. Except for the auburn patches groomed evenly. He was dressed to the nines. A high born no doubt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask politely, despite how you felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“Such supple skin and bewitching body you have,” crooked fingers caress your hand, which grips tighter onto the tray. Mild irritation growing into a flame simmers in your eyes, “Excuse me?”

“You poor thing, all alone… I could help you become less lonely,” the invading touch slowly crawls up your arm.

Who did he think he was? Drawing in a sharp inhale, you grit your teeth, “Leave me alone. Or else.”

“Don’t you mean… pretty please?”

“—Master!!”

He paused mid sentence as a call interrupted him. With a dissatisfied huff, he grabs the stem of the last glass you carried, withdrawing from your side. You release a sigh of relief at his departure, scanning the crowd for who could have called him.

Familiar, curly locks of gold appear in your vision.

The night deepens, and the sea of people is still flooding the place. An ache struck your back and feet from how long you stood to distribute the drinks.

Unfortunately, your attempt at intel gathering has not been particularly fruitful so far. Most chatters were full of gossip and the latest trends.

But you did learn of one thing: apart from the revelry at night, Regal also held exclusive activities to engage in during the day. You reckoned it was a technique to make more visitors pay for a room and stay until the event is fully over.

Wondering if you should rendezvous with Nica about this, you try to search for his tall figure in the crowd. In spite of all the buzz surrounding the philanderer, you had not once seen him. Perhaps you were too absorbed into your task to properly notice him, or he passed by you without a single comment.

“—Mr. Schwartz! Mr. Schwartz!!”

Think of the devil. There he was. You catch a bevy of young noble women and men flocking to him. The sight of his usual disarrayed jacket was absent. Instead, it was worn snuggly on his well-built frame.

“Say, are you truly not free tonight?” A lady coyly twirls her hair around her finger with her strawberry lips stuck out in a pout.

Another one cooled themselves quickly with their hand fan facing up, “I’d love to dance with you~”

“Here, my trade card. You are free to drop a visit to my shop any time you want! I'll even give you a ten percent discount!”

It was apparent he was no short of desperate admirers. You tap your shoe on the hardwood floor softly, thinking about what your next course of action should be.

You could always meet up with him later, and there is still a floor you have not yet searched for clues: upstairs. Since everyone else was down here…

Fwoosh!

Startled by the sensation of a warm breath being blown into your ear, you scramble to grab your flailing tray. Your train of thought had been forced to halt. Again. At least there were no remaining glasses.

“My, my,” A rich, teasing tone. And you knew exactly who it belonged to this time.

“Alfons!!”

“One could easily get the wrong idea if you call my name out so passionately, Miss Robin. Especially... Your partner tonight.”

“He’s not sharing a Curse with Roger, Al.”

“If you will, please refrain from uttering that brute’s name next to mine. It is truly something out of a nightmare to hear.”

The manner in which he shook his head with a distressed expression — it was as if there could not be an ordeal more mortifying for him.

“Should I even ask what you're doing here?” To be fair, it was not entirely shocking for him to be here. Though, Victor did not mention he would be assigned to this mission…

“Here’s a better question. Don't you just feel yourself greening with envy by how they're fawning over him?” Alfons shifts closer, nearly touching heads with you as you both gaze at the star of tonight's banquet.

“Of course not!” Right then, Nica’s eyes meet yours. As if he really heard what you said. Air catches in your throat as a familiar, conceited smirk is formed on him.

“Don’t be mistaken. I wouldn't... ever like him,” you subconsciously clutch at your dress with one hand, crumpling up the delicate fabric. You were sure that he wouldn't come to like you either. You would nip any attraction towards him in the bud before it would ever have a chance to bloom.

Alfons clicks his tongue. “I would advise you to make wiser choices — but then again, the little robin who brought water for the sinners in hell was not so clever either.”

You lift your face to glare back at him, intending to rebuke. When you did, the space next to you was empty. Gone like the illusionary phantom he was. Or was he there in the first place?

What a shame. If only you had paid a little more attention to the black swan. You would have spotted how his smile faltered upon seeing that raven head with you.

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉 // notes + tl. cross-checked with multiple translators, but if you think that it could be corrected or further improved please let me know!

1. LINE chat reference

2. Autsch ➛ ouch

3. Ja ➛ yes

4. Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten ➛ you could ask me for help

5. Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten ➛ it will be easier for me to kill

𖹭 ── 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒑𝒕 //

and that's the end of part 1! to be honest, i think i will be putting this on hold, since I feel that my skills have not caught up yet with this kind of plot-heavy fic.

feedback would be greatly appreciated so that I can improve my writing! I still have a lot to learn.

[aercnaut-archived]

i shitpost about shipping all day but my siblings in gozer lee really needs grown up human shaped friends. his best friend is a god damned bear.