#perhaps she even find the house with the red door again

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 2) part 1

-

The solid hand at your back guides you through the dusty streets towards the courthouse in the middle of town. It’s not an easy walk. Your shoes catch on the skirt of your dress a handful of times in Price’s haste, each time almost causing you to tumble forward before you manage to catch yourself. 

It’s patently unfair. The strides of his long legs would easily have you losing him in a crowd were it not for the way he refuses to leave you behind; every time you so much as slow down a tad to catch your breath, the firm hand on your low back presses you forward again. You’d be snippier if you weren’t still addled from the events of just five minutes previous.

“I beg you, please—” you plead, heart skittering in your chest when you chance a glance up to find Price’s face set. Everything about him feels purposeful now, driven. “If you just—if you would just let me explain!”

“Nothing more to know, darling,” he says, not bothering to meet your desperate eyes. Clearly not in any mood to continue arguing with you on the status of your identity. 

He tugs you along when he takes a right turn down a road leading into the center of town. The belt of bullets around his waist rattles with every step. It’s a constant reminder of who you’re with and why you should not be with him. Every step feels like a step towards your own sentencing, like accompanying your jailer to your cell. It’s perhaps fool’s luck that the sheriff hasn’t inquired further into your identity or your reason for coming into town. Makes you think that perhaps there isn’t yet a warrant out for your arrest. Maybe that’s only to come. 

“Sure there’s more!” you insist. “There’s—there’s—” It’s like the words fly right out of your head, bucked off like a bronc rider. Too much has happened in too short a time. “There’s the matter of—oh, would you quit that, I am walking!” The last bit comes out snappish, peeved as Price pulls you towards the stone steps of a red-bricked building. 

The words County Court House are inscribed above the second-story door girdled by a wrought iron balcony. It’s a simple building, far from the colonnaded buildings from back home with their cupolas and hand-carved lintels. Even in size it hardly compares, a meager three stories with perhaps a basement. Still, it catches the eye in a town as small as this, by far the most imposing building for miles around.

It’s also the one he pulls you towards, hand moving from the small of your back to take firm hold of your waist. You flinch at the touch and the way his fingers dig in, almost proprietarily. It’s a physical shock to your system. While you’re not unaccustomed to the rougher ways of men, you’ve also been largely shielded from it yourself. By chance or fortune or luck. Men may take an attitude with you, as they’re wont to do, but none have yet manhandled you the way Price feels free to do. 

“Take a big step there now, darling,” he says, lifting the front of your dress for you a tad, to your shock. “No accidents before the wedding.” 

“The wedding?” you shriek, face heating at the heads that turn to look over at the two of you. 

The courthouse is bustling with townsfolk, still not as busy as in the bigger cities back east, but still clearly at the center of all business activities. The few people that pass you by on the way out of or into the courthouse are bold in their perusal, eyebrows lifting when they take notice of Price at your side—and how could they not, with the size of him and the badge pinned to the lapel of his vest that glimmers when it catches the light. 

“If you were expecting something grander, you should’ve turned up last month when I sent for you,” Price says, stern again. In the foyer of the courthouse, you can see the way the long hallway cuts through the building, leading into the adjacent rooms until finally culminating with the courtroom at the very back. You watch as a man slowly closes the door to the last door, shutting the occupants in. “Might’ve been more amenable to it then.”

“I’m not asking for a nicer ceremony—”

“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”

“—but that’s because I’m not the woman that you intended to marry in the first place,” you finish, quieting to a hissed whisper, conscious of those still lingering close enough to eavesdrop. In all likelihood, the other people milling around probably already know that the sheriff has been waiting for his mail order bride to arrive. They wouldn’t be the first people to mistake you for her.

He pulls you into an alcove off the side of the foyer. When Price turns to face you, no longer just the heavy presence at your side, it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings. He seems larger somehow, with his arms crossed over his chest and feet rooted into the floor, drawn up to his full height. The hair on his forearms draws your eyes momentarily before he steps into your space, forcing you to meet his eyes again. 

He stares down at you with an intensity that makes you flinch. “Now, far be it for me to say that I know my wife-to-be by her demeanor alone, given that we’ve hardly corresponded beyond our initial agreement. But I find it mighty strange that a single, unaccompanied woman would show up in town with all of her earthly belongings as I’m expecting my own woman to show up any day. Hardly seems coincidental.”

“Don’t you think I would have sought you out if we were intended to wed?” you ask beseechingly. “Or that I would put up such a fuss now? What sort of bride would do that?”

“You want to know what I think, darling?” The timber of his voice deepens as he lowers his head slightly, wrapping the conversation in a layer of intimacy despite its public nature. There’s a darker note to his voice now, a thinly-veiled anger. “I think you’ve been keeping yourself housed and fed off the back of men like me and the money you’ve been sent to compensate for the rough journey. I think your guilty conscience brought you here because you know that the Lord doesn’t look too kindly on swindlers and thieves.”

“I’m not a thief,” you hiss in protest, affronted. Ironic that you’d be insulted by his words when the truth is far worse. 

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Price permits, a reluctant softness in his voice. “But your conscience did you right. Marriage will suit you far better than a life of crime ever could.”

If only he knew. “You’ve still got it all wrong—I’ve never once even glanced at the matrimonial pages or the personals. And I certainly didn’t come to town expecting to be wed.”

You did, however, arrive in town with a guilty conscience. Even you’re wise enough not to mention that, though.

“Then if you're not her, who are you?” he asks. 

It’s clear from his tone that Price doesn’t believe you, but the question itself makes you antsier than even the thought of marrying this man. He still stares down at you in challenge, an eyebrow cocked. If you wanted to, you could easily answer his question and even furnish proof—a letter from an aunt or uncle or a telegram from a previous employer. 

That last thought makes your throat squeeze tight. You could furnish proof, but at what cost? You’re still unclear on how much information has been disseminated or whether you're a wanted woman. Though only weeks have passed since the event that caused you to flee in a haste, there’s no telling whether a warrant has been put out for your arrest, no telling whether word has reached a town this far west. 

“Not that it matters, but I’m from New York,” you say, scrunching up your nose. 

The look he gives you is unimpressed. “I’m sure you lost the accent on the train ride.”

Embarrassment makes you dig your heels in deeper. “I didn’t grow up there, it’s just where I’ve lived for the past few years.”

“And what’s your name?”

“…Elizabeth Smith.” 

It’s the first name that occurs to you, but the moment the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help feeling like you’ve made a huge mistake. Price must sense it too because he draws back up to his full height, lips twitching into a small smirk. 

“You have family or a post back in New York, Miss Smith?” he asks in a patronizing tone. 

“Family.” 

“Alright, then it shouldn’t be too hard to get confirmation and settle this whole issue.” He points behind you to one of the unoccupied rooms. “Telegraph’s office just behind you. We’ll get in touch with the Census Bureau and ask them to confirm your identity. And, if you are who you say you are, Miss Smith, then we can put this issue to rights.” 

Your blood goes cold. “That’ll—that’ll take time though. I can’t marry you today if they only get back to you in a week’s time.”

Price nods, his expression dissatisfied but resolved. “Wouldn’t be proper for you to stay at the house either, but I’ll make sure the inn lets you stay free of charge until this is settled. You’ll be in good hands under the Pattersons’ watch.” 

He doesn’t say it outright, but you hear the implication in his words. You’d be essentially under house arrest, perhaps free to move about town, but certainly not free to take the next train out. 

Your pulse thumps nervously at the base of your throat. Even swallowing takes effort now. The weight of his stare takes root in you, a living coil in your belly. No getting out of it. There’s no getting out of this. You don’t know why you thought you could, how you tricked yourself into thinking for even a moment that a man as formidable as the one set in front of you would simply give in. Let you go. You’ve hardly even moved the needle. 

It’s there still in his eyes. Not even doubt—something quite far past that. Certainty. 

“‘Elizabeth Smith of New York’, was it? Come, we’ll have them start the message and you can give me your birthday as well so it’ll be an easy find—” Price says, attempting to slip around you to head to the telegraph’s office. 

“No.” 

It slips out of you inadvertently, high and panicked. He pauses at the word. More than just your words. When you look down, you notice your fingers clenched in the fabric of his sleeve, bringing him to a halt. It pulls taut against the muscle of his forearm. 

Softness bleeds back into him at your touch. You can see it smooth out the lines of his forehead and the jut of his brow. He ignores the onlookers still hovering by the double doors to twist back to you, now obscuring their view of you. The breadth of his shoulders nearly blocks the rest of the foyer from sight when he looms over you like this. Down the hall, you can hear a gavel pound down on wood and a litany of raised voices in unison from behind a shut door. 

“You don’t have to make up stories,” Price murmurs, drawing a hand up to cup your cheek, holding it like a precious thing. “I told you before—all’s forgiven.”

His words remind you of being trapped in his office, drawers stripped down your ankles and skirt pulled up to your waist. Your bottom still smarts from the palm of his hand, still hot and sore to the touch. It’s hardly been long since then and yet it feels like an age ago, like trying to find your way in a dust storm. 

You open and shut your mouth, lost for a way out. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Marriage or a jail cell. You swallow. Both sound like a sentencing. 

But there are the cold, metal bars of a cell, and then there’s John Price. The first man in an age to elicit more than a passing glance from you. Deep blue eyes crinkled with the folds of old laughter, wide shoulders, and barrel chest. In another time, you think you would’ve jumped at the chance to be courted by a man like him. Keeled over at the very thought of being chased the way he hunts you down now. 

“Alright,” you say instead, giving in. The hand fisting his sleeve shakes. “Alright.”

It’s not a pleasant giving in. Your permission is handed over with shot nerves. The coil bunched up in your core burns white hot, hissing and spitting like a rattlesnake. 

Still, when he drags a thumb over the slope of your cheek, you fight not to let your eyelids flutter shut. “Good girl. We’ll make it work, love. Won’t be easy, but it never is.”

You don’t anticipate that it will be, but your mouth stays shut. Price must think you mollified, soothed rather than resigned to your fate, because he passes his thumb once more over your cheekbone, this time so tenderly that you wait for his lips to descend upon yours again, sure from the heat in his eyes that he won’t be able to keep from stealing another kiss. You lick your lips out of habit—not just to see the way his eyes follow the motion. 

Then the door at the back of the building bursts open to a cacophony of shouts and hollering voices. The moment broken, Price drops his hand away from your cheek, only to take your hand in his this time, pulling you down the hall towards the register’s to await the circuit preacher. He makes you walk on the side closest to the wall, shielding you from the men that burst out of the courtroom, surging towards the doors. You think that someone must have been found guilty because the lot of them look joyous, clamoring over each other for attention. 

You think that you might be spared another minute or two, enough time for them to clean up and reset the courtroom, but you’re shocked to find the circuit preacher ready to conduct the ceremony in the cramped register’s office. He and Price shake hands enthusiastically, the preacher turning to you to grasp your hands in welcome before turning back to the sheriff. They have a camaraderie that speaks of old friendship. 

The cramped room where you’re married smells of patchouli and moth wings, like holes burrowed into sweaters at the back of a closet. The bookshelves along the walls are stacked with books old enough that you know they’d crinkle deliciously if opened. You try to listen as the preacher begins the introductory prayer. Behind you, another man slips into the room, a witness. He hardly bothers to introduce himself for such a brief affair. 

You haven’t been to many weddings, but you always imagined that yours—if you were privileged enough to have one—might have more fanfare. The wedding you actually get is a brusque affair, a brief recital of vows that ends only when the preacher enjoins Price to kiss his wife. 

His wife. 

Your eyes go wide when a hand flattens along your spine and pulls you into a hard chest, John dipping his head down to kiss your mouth again. His kiss is less chaste this time, not restricted by convention as earlier. This time, his tongue licks hot into your mouth, like no kiss you’ve ever had before, beard scratching your face. His mouth tastes like something you’ve never had before, like heatburst. Hot and wet. Soft and suckling. Any kiss you’ve had before pales in comparison—juvenile fumbling, all dry and half-humiliated, unsure of yourself. Nothing like being kissed by your husband.

Your husband. 

He only pulls away when the preacher finally clears his throat, a tad embarrassed. You’re too dazed to feel the same, fingers still sunk into the lapels of Price’s vest, clutched there. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and your hands to unclench. You feel Price tug your hands away and slip something onto your finger.

The few documents needing to be signed hardly takes any longer. You finally notice the man that had slipped in behind the two of you, a masked man even larger than Price, who nods at him before glancing at you only long enough for you to notice that his eyes seem curiously blank. 

“Thanks, Simon,” Price says as the man—Simon—signs under your names, but he only grunts. The ink is still wet when he leaves. 

“How was it so fast?” you ask absently, staring at the papers as the ink sits drying and the preacher takes his own copy before handing John his. 

“Everything’s practical out here, darling.” His hand holds you by the waist again, relaxed this time. Not worried about whether you might run. “Even the weddings.”

“You don’t…you don’t even serve dinner? Invite guests over? No gifts?” The questions are irrelevant, but you ask them anyway because it’s a way to focus on anything other than the preacher handing you the final copy of the papers and Price leading you back down the hall and out the doors. 

There’s a ring on my finger, you think, looking down. It sparkles when you twist your hand from side to side. Topaz, instead of diamond. 

“Maybe if you’d showed up on time,” Price reminds you. He no longer sounds upset about it, but it still seems to come out as an admonishment. 

You don’t respond to that. Perhaps you’re still shell-shocked, looking at the world through new eyes. It feels unreal that in the span of less than a day, you’ve been plucked up and married off, to the sheriff no less. The one man you would’ve tried your hardest to avoid crossing paths with. 

No chance of that now. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, still in a daze. The sun makes you squint when you leave the courthouse, making you miss the hat back in your room at the inn. Maybe you can convince Price to let you go back to collect your things.

“I think we’re due for a honeymoon, don’t you, darling?”

You go doe-eyed at that. When you look up, your husband is already smiling down at you, crow’s feet wrinkling at the sides of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home.”

[randomshyperson]

Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec),  Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness. 

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like. 

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing. 

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum. 

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

[frostdayz]

More than enemies

Genre: Enemies to Lovers

aemond x reader (aemond uncle and y/n niece!!) (f! reader)

summary: Y/n is Rhaenyra's only daughter and at a young age she is betrothed to her uncle to keep the peace between the two families. Years pass without seeing each other, but when the day of the wedding arrives feelings are changed and emotions are spilled.

Note: Laptops on 3% so this was super rushed and tbh idk if i like it. Anyways this might be my last HOTD post for a while (I might be lying to myself)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

My wedding day. I stand before a mirror, the silver and red gown draped elegantly over my form, my mother's house colors blending with those of House Targaryen. My heart races, not with excitement, but with apprehension.

Aemond Targaryen. My betrothed. My enemy. The boy I had loathed for as long as I could remember. Our union was meant to be a symbol of peace between our families, a bridge over troubled waters. But to me, it had always felt like a shackle.

I had not seen Aemond in years, not since we were children. He had been sent away to train, and I had remained in Dragonstone, under my mother's watchful eye. Now, as I prepare to meet him again, I wonder if he has changed. If I have changed.

The door creaks open, and my mother enters, her face soft with maternal concern. "Are you ready, my daughter?" she asks, her voice gentle.

I nod, though my heart is anything but steady. "As ready as I'll ever be, Mother."

She takes my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "This union is important for the realm. But more than that, it is a chance for you to find happiness." She smiles at me.

Happiness. The word seems foreign in the context of my impending marriage to Aemond. But I nod again, forcing a smile. "I understand." I sigh.

With a final kiss on my forehead, she leads me to the great hall. The steps we leave behind sound out an echo that leads me to my new and unwanting future. The doors swing open, and I step inside, my eyes scanning the crowd until they land on him. Aemond. He stands tall, his silver hair gleaming, his eye patch adding an air of mystery. Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the world falls away.

He looks dare I say different? Stronger. More confident. And in his remaining eye, I see something I had not expected. Curiosity. Apprehension. Perhaps even a hint of regret. Regret for all the torment he gave me when I was a child. Or regret going through with this wedding and not running away while he had the chance?

Without my mind wanting to my feet start to walk me down the aisle, my mind races with memories of our childhood. The arguments, the insults, the constant competition. Does he still feel the same all these years later?

I reach the altar, and he takes my hand. His grip is firm, but not harsh. I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy I had despised. Instead, I find a man who looks at me with wonder and uncertainty. Something I didn't expect to find, my eyes linger on his face confused with the feeling that's starting to stir inside my stomach.

The ceremony passes in a blur, words exchanged, vows made. And then, it is done. We are married. Bound together by duty and destiny.

Later, at the feast, I find a moment to escape the throng of well-wishers and slip into one of the halls in the keep, seeking comfort in the quiet lit hall. Moments later, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and find myself face-to-face with my now-new husband.

"May I join you?" he asks, his voice devoid of the arrogance I had once associated with him. He takes a few shy steps forward as if he is scared that I will reject him.

I give a small nod, and he steps beside me, his gaze fixed on me the whole time. For a while, we walk in silence, the tension between us palpable. Finally, he speaks.

"I never wanted this," he admits, his voice soft. "I never wanted to be bound by duty to someone who hated me." He stops his steps and looks away from my gaze.

"I never wanted it either," I reply, my own voice tinged with bitterness. "But here we are." I take a step forward so I am now standing right in front of him, he lifts his head to look at me, his expression earnest. "Perhaps... perhaps we were wrong about each other. Perhaps there is more to us than the hatred we clung to as children."

I look up at him towering over me, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But all I see is sincerity. "Do you really believe that?" My eyes softening

He nods, taking my hand in his and looking down fiddling with the rings on my hand. "I do. And I think... I know I would like to try. To see if we can be more than enemies."

My heart skips a beat at his words. Could it be possible? Could the years of animosity have been a mask for something deeper, something neither of us had been ready to acknowledge?

"I would like that too," I whisper, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. I take my hand out of his grasp and lift it up to graze his right cheek. I wouldn't in a million years think that I would be open to the thought of falling for the man I once hated.

He smiles and leans his head into my palm planting a soft kiss. "Then let us start anew, my wife. Let us find out who we truly are, together."

I feel a spark of hope. Perhaps this union, born of duty, could become something more. Something real. And for the first time, I see Aemond not as my enemy, but as my partner, my equal, and perhaps, one day, my love and the father of my future children.

[ego13]

𑜷 ” 因為 𝑺HE SAID '𝑭UCK ME LIKE IM FAMOUS' – 𝑨UDI𝒁 X FEM!READER | 𖥻˙.⭒

𖥻˙.⭒ https://now_playing : 𝚌hase atlanti𝚌 - OKAY

˳  ୭ ꕀ https://synopsis : coming to another boring party, you found yourself a wonderful company with whom you didn’t mind retiring in the spare room of the mansion.

ʾ ִ𓏸 𝆬‌ ۪ . https://warnings : lesbian sex, threesome, sex tape, thigh riding, sloppy sex, hickeys, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, fingering, sex with strangers, loud sex, praise kink, service top!audiz

ˑ ִ ֗𖧷 https://pairing : yu jimin x uchinaga aeri x reader

ᨦ꒰ ៸៸ ꒱ https://authors_note : this is the stupidest thing I've ever written, so excuse the poor writing, I'm having writer's block right now, and it's hard for me to come up with something better. <3

༄ ₊ ꒷https://word_count : 1,9k

L0AD1NG . .

loud music, flashing lights and the voices of drunk people are what surrounded you at the moment, in principle, such an environment has long been commonplace for you, and perhaps someone feels uncomfortable being in such companies, but not you, because your brain already subconsciously felt as if you were really where you should be.

so, having dragged yourself to another party for the sake of free booze, you entered the mansion that you had already known for a long time, you met the owner of this house a long time ago, but it was only recently that you led such a riotous lifestyle by going to such events, after all, you are an ordinary student who spends hours studying and prays every day to think about something other than papers, textbooks and exams.

after another hard day at school, your legs instinctively carried you along the corridor, in search of the door from where this loud music was flowing, and finally the cherished gates opened, and dozens of drunken people appeared before your eyes, and grinning, you were anticipating how you yourself would soon find yourself in a similar state of nirvana, so finding an 'impromptu' bar which consisted of an ordinary table and a dozen bottles standing on it.

you approached the guy standing at the table, he smiled when he saw you, because it was clearly not the first time he had seen you, and you didn’t even have to say anything before his hands independently took the plastic red cup in his hands, pouring colored alcoholic liquid into it, holding it out with such a smile, "so, because of the booze here again?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a few small sips, "you know, it's better to go to parties for the sake of drinking, and not in the hope that someone will fuck with you."

he playfully rolled his eyes, realizing that the hint was about him, "come on, I won't get anything tonight anyway, so let's just have a drink," you clink cups, and you drank all the contents in one gulp, causing him a pleasant surprise, "what are you, a professional alcoholic? I've never seen a girl who downs half a glass of liquor in one go." you playfully pushed him on the shoulder before grabbing the first bottle you came across, pouring the contents into your cup as you walked away from the table deeper into the dance floor.

still, drinking alcohol in one gulp is clearly not the best idea for you, because a few minutes after you left the bar, you felt your head pleasantly spinning, and as a result, you didn’t notice how you accidentally bumped into an unfamiliar pink-haired girl standing with her back to you.

you immediately began to apologize, saying that it happened by accident, but before you could finish half the sentence, you saw how she turns to face you, and behind her you can see another girl who puts her elbow on her shoulder, "baby, is everything okay?" asked the pink-haired girl, in whose voice there was absolutely no hint of anger, rather, on the contrary, her voice was so calm that it literally intoxicated, "hey, why don't we take care of such a beautiful girl? we see that you are alone here, so why not fix it?"

your evening sucked so much that hearing these words, you only enthusiastically said “yes, please", and upon hearing permission, you felt both girls’ arms wrap around your waist, helping you move away from the dance floor and up to the second floor of the house. the three of you walked along a corridor with a bunch of doors, while the dark-haired girl randomly opened all the doors that came to hand, someone was sleeping, someone was fucking, and she was quietly swearing under her breath, because they urgently needed this fucking spare room, which is finally there, and they both push you needily into it, closing the door from the inside.

in an instant, you found yourself sitting on uchinaga’s lap, while yu’s predatory hands explored your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone, you felt how she ran her fangs along the milky and tender skin, knocking out the first quiet moan from you, obviously not the last for this evening.

you feel the warmth of aeri's breath settling on your rosy face. your fidgets in place and shyly fiddles with the bottom of your black dress in your damp fingers, her gaze penetrates you to your core, making you involuntarily tense and bring trembling hips together. it starts to pulsate between your legs.

jimin finally exhales loudly. the heat mercilessly makes its way to your aching groin and she grabs your dress with her fingertips, exposing a strip of skin on your stomach, "look at her, so fuckin' pretty..." uchinaga only grunted in response, looking at you with interest, greedily licking her lips when her gaze fell on the bare skin of your stomach.

your arms suddenly weaken, as if a huge weight is falling on you, but jimin continues to lift your dress until you are left in just your underwear. your dress flies somewhere into the corner of the room, because now you definitely don’t need it, you feels with your skin how their eyes is crawling scrutinizingly and greedily over your trembling body, and it’s suddenly so exciting, so nervous, and you could swear that no one in your life looked at you like that, and you never felt so wanted in your life.

aeri's palms immediately find themselves on your hot cheeks, in whose eyes adoration and reverence are unmistakably discernible, "you are incredible, princess, so needy, good girl..."

jimin's palms slide over the delicate skin around the ribs and freeze under the seductive small roundness. you sucks in your stomach and sighs heavily, while your skin is covered with goosebumps from the feeling of the hot hands of both girls on your body.

uchinaga's eyes sparkle with anticipation when she inquisitively looks into your ruddy face, at the same instant, her palms carefully grasp your breasts, completely covering them, and with her thumbs she circle the wrinkled nipples, lips, at the same moment cover her sensitive nipple, pulling it deep into the mouth and rolling it between the teeth.

a long-awaited moan escaped your lips again, pressing your breasts into aeri’s face, at the same moment you felt how the lips of jimin, who was behind, left a trail of wet kisses and bites along your spine, while her hands were on your waist, holding you in her pink haired lap.

aeri impulsively squeezes the delicate skin with her fingers, and more demandingly closes her lips on the tense lump of flesh, you choke on a groan and nod desperately, squinting your eyelids and grabbing the girl’s shoulders with shaking palms, she naturally grins and impatiently places her hands on your ass, squeezing it slightly.

trembling all over and whimpering softly from sensitivity and painful sharp outbreaks from unexpected tingling sensations, you spread your legs wider and slowly lower yourself onto her exposed knee, pressing your wet crotch tightly against it and bending your lower back pliantly, "come on, sweetheart, move a little, like that... good girl."

you strains the internal muscles of your cunt, which rapidly contract, pushing out the lubricant more actively, from the girl’s approving tone and presses your groin harder into your in the hope of a long-awaited relief, you moan loudly and again sits heavily on top of the girl, responsively pushing towards her hot and demanding mouth.

aeri's breath is pounding heavily, a dull rhythm beating in her ears as she tries in vain to pull herself together, but you can only more persistently suck on your breasts and press your seductively swaying hips to yourself as tightly as possible.

you throw your head back and part your dry lips to let a quiet moan escape them, finally feeling the long-awaited climax, while yu's hands continued to hold your trembling body, helping you stay in one position, whispering in your ear in a quiet and hoarse voice about how well you did and how good you were.

her strong hands helped you get up from your knees, her strong hands helped you get up from aeri’s lap, carefully laying you on the bed, while uchinaga's hand reached into the pocket of her pants, taking out her phone from there, opening the camera app, placing it on the bedside table so that the three of you could be seen, "well, princess, let's make this night a little more fun?"

a shiver of anticipation runs down your back, and a hot wave settles between your thighs again, you whine pitifully and spread your legs further, allowing jimin's hand to slide under your underwear, she carefully pulls off her already soaked black panties from your rounded hips, she kisses the sunken belly, inhaling the faint aroma of your desire, as uchinaga positioned herself behind you, allowing you to rest your back on her, her hands slid to your breasts, squeezing them lightly, enjoying your languid sighs and needy whines.

you whine pitifully and pleadingly again, and jimin makes her way to the wet flesh, impatiently penetrating inside the delicate folds, teasing your clit with her tongue, squeezing your thighs in her hands, leaving red prints of her palms on them. your back arches when her skillful tongue touches you there, and mixed with the aeri's touches, who continued to play with your breasts, burning the tender skin of your collarbone with my breath. finally, yu’s tongue slid inside you, pushing so deeply that you couldn’t even imagine that someone could touch you there.

it only took you a few damn minutes before your back arched to the point of a crunch, and a loud moan escaped your lips, repeating the name of both girls like a mantra, pulling away from you, the black-haired girl greedily licks her lips, licking the remnants of your taste from them, which made you blush even more, "you're so delicious, it seems to me that I could eat you all the time and never get tired of it," these words made uchinaga giggle, moving his lips to your earlobe, "hey, jimin-nie, don't make our girl even more embarrassed."

just as you were about to relax, you felt the pink haired hand slide down your stomach, a slight shiver runs through her body, and she rubs the slippery spot harder with the pad of her thumb, you cry out quietly as she slowly slides into her, pushing deeper, all the way to the knuckles, you squeeze her finger with your muscles. aeri freezes with her whole body, feeling resistance, "shh, princess, relax, okay? you're doing so well..." she kisses your rosy cheek and circles her sensitive clit with her thumb.

you clearly wants to say something, but chokes on another moan and a sharp slurping thrust. now two long fingers confidently slide in you, jimin's hands held your thighs, not allowing you to close them, despite your desperate attempts to do so, "baby, everything is fine, yeah, just relax..."

after her shameless statement, you sob subtly, gently squeezing her fingers, and carefully kiss aeri on the lips, in response to which yu's lips gently kissed the back of your neck, "good girl... should we continue, huh?"

after these words you realized that the night is still damn long, and a wonderful company of two damn sexy girls and several hours of damn porn on aeri's phone awaits you...

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Cherrywood

(1-2)

Short story # 19

Gif NOT mine.

Summary - On this night your land experiences the worst storm it's suffered in nearly a hundred years. Amidst the storm came a crashing noise like no other, and curiosity gets the better of you. When you find the source of the commotion, you are stunned to find the Rouge Prince unconscious beneath his fierce dragons wing.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 15 minutes

I haven't watched the show, or read the books. So please excuse any inaccuracies there might be.

"Easy boy, it's just a storm." (Y/n) murmured softly to her sheepdog, who whimpered and growled with every crack of thunder. She pet behind his ear, hoping to console her loyal dog. While still idly tending to her dinner over the hearth. "I hope Zero is okay." She muttered aloud, thinking of her horse sheltered in the barn. With a particularly loud crack of thunder, Leo whimpered and scurried under the nearby table. "Some guard dog you are." (Y/n) teased her pet playfully, felling sorry for him, but trying to make light of the situation. As she herself was afraid of what this storm would bring, and the damage that was bound to occur as it swept over her orchard. Thunder struck once more, but alongside it came a near deafening crash. "Oh no." Afraid the barn might have collapsed, (Y/n) rushed to grab her cloak. "Stay here." She called back to Leo, before rushing out the door of her cottage and into the storm. Lifting her head just enough to spot the barn, she was relieved to find it standing intact. But what had caused such a noise?

An animalistic yowl of sorts emitted from the shore afar, a sound unlike anything she'd heard before. Curiosity getting the better of her, (Y/n) began her treck towards the beach, wondering what sort of creature could make such a sound. The ground was soft and muddy beneath her boots, causing her to slip every so often, though she maintained her balance enough not to fall into the muck. Again the sound emitted from the beach, much louder now that she neared it's source. All that was left between her, and the creature, was a steep hill. With slow meticulous steps, she made her way up the hill, careful not to slip and fall all the way back down. When she reached the top, she cautiously peered over the top, as another deafening roar ripped through the night air. Her eyes immediately landed upon a mighty red dragon, and she was quick to duck her head back down, fear surging through her body at the sight of the beast. Again it roared and it sounded distressed, perhaps even in pain. "Gods protect me." She whispered softly, going against her better judgment, and peering over the hill at the mighty beast.

This time she observed a saddle strapped to the dragon, and when it shifted, she noticed the sigil for house Targaryen. "Not good, definitely not good." She muttered softly, as she scanned the beach for any sign of the rider. Her eyes quickly snapped back to the dragon, when it again shifted, this time lifting its wing just high enough for (Y/n) to spot the silhouette of someone laying in the sand. Assessing the situation (Y/n) concluded that something must be wrong with the rider, and the dragon was trying desperately to wake them with no success. "I must be crazy." She muttered under her breath as she worked up the courage to stand. Despite her body telling her to run for the hills, (Y/n) rose from her spot, and slowly descended down the hill towards the beast. Before she even reached the end of the hill, the dragons attention snapped to her, growling low in warning. "Definitely crazy." She breathed out quietly, holding her hands up in surrender to the beast. With slow steps she began walking towards the dragon, hoping it would understand that she meant no harm.

It's nostrils flared, as it bellowed smoke at her, halting her in her steps. "I only want to help, let me help please." She called out to the crimson beast, hoping she wouldn't be burned alive. The dragon shook its head, as if to dismiss the idea. "Their hurt, let me help." She tried again, her heart hammering when the dragon spread out it's wings, which covered the span of the beach itself. "I don't mean you harm, I just want to help." She kept her hands held out, bowing her head a little even, in hopes that it would understand her submission to its power. The dragon once more shifted, and turned its head to the side. It's furthest wing tucking back into its side. While the other wing over their rider remained outstretched. She took slow steps, not wanting to spook the beast into aggression, but wanting desperately to help the rider. When she finally reached them, she wasn't surprised to find that the man was definitely a Targaryen. If his clothes and dragon weren't enough to convince her, the long mane of snow white hair definitely was. His hair lay around him like that of a halo, and (Y/n) found herself stunned by how handsome he was, even drenched to the bone with rain.

She felt the dragons eyes on her, and tried to ignore it as she knelt beside the man. Carefully she pat his cheek, in a vain attempt to stir him awake. Though she suspected that if the loud bellowing roars of his dragon couldn't wake him, she would be just as unsuccessful. That is if he was even alive to begin with. Pulling her hood down, (Y/n) pressed her ear against the man's sternum, trying desperately to hear the rhythmic beating of a heart, over the rain pattering noisily on the dragons wing. Closing her eyes to try focusing better, she slowed her breaths, and strained to listen over the storm. "He's alive." She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally heard his heart beating steadily. She looked closely over his body, assisting that he had no major wounds that needed immediate tending to. Only to then realize she needed to get him back to her cottage somehow, and soon lest the cold take him while he sleeps. Looking back at the dragon she worried if it was something the beast would even allow. Though it had allowed her to come this close, perhaps even it knows what needs to be done.

She rose from her spot beside the man, removed her cloak, covering him with it, in an attempt to keep him warm. "I'll be back, I promise." She spoke to the dragon, still hoping it wouldn't lash out at her. It blew air out of its nose in her direction, and remained in place guarding its master. (Y/n) took that as her queue and dashed off towards her orchard. She became drenched in no time, shivering from the cold, but she ignored it and kept running home. Once there she made a beeline for the barn, barging in with enough force to startle her horse Zero. She rushed about, finding what she would need in order to transport the man back to her cottage. And old sled from when she was a child, which was designed to be pulled by a horse, was her go to. She also gathered rope and several blankets, before getting Zero's saddle onto him, along with the harness needed to strap the sled to. Once everything was ready, (Y/n) grabbed the spare cloak in the barn, pulled it on, and led Zero out into the storm. After she'd ensured the sled was secure, she pulled herself up onto the saddle, and set Zero into a trot back to the beach. Praying to the old gods and the new to protect her, to let the man still be alive, and to keep his dragon docile.

As she neared the hill Zero began to snort in discomfort and fear, sensing what was beyond the hill. "Easy buddy, we have to do this. Stay with me." She soothed him before ushering him to climb the hill. He neighed and pounded his hoof, before doing as he was told. When they reached the top of the hill, the dragon looked to them, and Zero reared up a little. "Easy Zero easy, it's okay." (Y/n) soothed him once more, her heart pounding noisily in her ears. The work horse snorted and trot in place for a moment, before slowly calming as the dragon showed no aggression. "Come on." She urged him forward, breathing a sigh of relief when he did so without hesitation. The dragon once more turned its head away when they neared, and Zero snorted in displeasure. "It's okay, we'll be okay." She assured him, hoping she was right about that. Once close enough (Y/n) dismounted Zero, and moved back to the man's side. Quickly and carefully she moved him onto the awaiting sled, covering him with several blankets to try and keep him somewhat dry, and clean from the mud Zeros hooves would kick up.

When she was satisfied with her work, she moved to secure several pieces of rope around him and the sled, to ensure he wouldn't fall off at any point during the trip. Certain that they wouldn't come untied or loose, she rose to her feet, gently patting Zero on the side. "Home Zero, take us home." She instructed the horse, remaining beside him to better watch over the man. Zero huffed once and began walking back towards home, his pace slow and calm. (Y/n) watched the dragon cautiously as they began the treck up the hill, hoping it would remain docile and wouldn't suddenly grow aggressive. However her anxiety didn't calm as the beast moved to follow them on foot. Trailing behind them like some massive winged dog, still loyal to its master and refusing to leave his side. Steadying her breathing she tried to focus on the task at hand, subconsciously wondering how in seven hells this all could have possibly happened. She'd heard the stories of the Targaryens, and they were renowned for their skill at dragon riding. Was it merely the storm that knocked them out of the sky? Or was it the work of something else entirely? What would happen if the man dies? Will the dragon kill her for not saving its master? Would the Targaryens kill her for not saving him?

Shaking her head of those thoughts she kept her eyes forward, as they neared her home. Pushing Zeros side a little to guild him to the barn. The dragon walked the opposite direction, making itself comfortable beside the cottage, though still watching (Y/n)'s every move. Quickly she removed Zeros saddle and harness, ushering him into his stall which she latched behind him. Still utilizing the sled, (Y/n) picked up the straps and began hauling him out herself, closing up the barn, then continuing on to the cottage. Luckily the front door was wide, which allowed her to pull the sled straight into the cottage and out of the rain. "Stay." She warned Leo who was still under the table where she'd left him. He wined but complied to her command. Setting to work (Y/n) removed the ropes and blankets, and even removed the top layers of the riders clothes. Knowing he needed to get warm, and into dry clothes before the cold could set in and make him sick. Thinking momentarily about the things her mother had taught her, she determined that it would be best for his health, if she just removed all of his wet clothes.

Before doing so she pulled the sled closer to the hearth, so he could get warm and dry off faster. Uncomfortable with the thought of a naked man she didn't even know laying unconscious in her home, she found a clean dry cloth and covered his modesty. "Leo come." She called to her sheepdog, who rushed to her side and followed her into her room. Closing the door behind her, (Y/n) quickly shed off her own wet clothes, dried herself with clean linen, and redressed into dry clothes. "Stay." She told Leo before she left the room, closing the door behind her for good measure. Afterwards she made her way to the room her and her brother shared when they were children, finding a decent pair of trousers tucked away in a chest. With those in hand she made her way back to the main part of the cottage, assessing the man to see if he was dry. Determining he was plenty dry, she worked to get him changed into the trousers, relived to find that they fit him just fine. Noticing the bruises on his ribs she retrieved a healing salve she made herself, gently rubbing a generous amount onto all the places she found bruises and scratches. Aside from those he seemed relatively unharmed. Again she walked off to her childhood room, retrieving a loose top from the same chest as before.

And before leaving the room, she assessed the only remaining bed within the room. It was a little dusty, but it would have to do for the night. She pulled the furs from the bed, and replaced them with cleaner furs. Flipping over the pillows she hoped it didn't smell musty, and the man would simply appreciate that she even helped him at all. Satisfied with her work, she grabbed the shirt, and made her way back to the man. Dressing him in the shirt with a gentle touch, she wondered who exactly this man was. Judging by his exquisite clothes he had to be a Targaryen of some importance, although most of them as far as she knew were of great importance. Mustering her strength, and bracing herself, (Y/n) carefully hauled the man up from the sled. And carried him as best she could to the bedroom she intended on letting him use. When she reached the room, she fell backwards onto the bed with an exhausted huff, groaning at the added weight of the man now laying on top of her, with his back against her chest. Carefully she maneuvered her way out from under him, then pulled him the rest of the way onto the bed. Afterwards tucking him under the fur covers, then leaving to rest by the hearth for a while.

After eating her dinner, (Y/n) determined that his clothes would need to be cleaned soon. Securing her cloak around her shoulders, she rushed out into the rain. Her heart jumping at the sight of the sleeping dragon, having forgotten about its presence until now. Swallowing the lump in her throat she made her way to the well, gathering several buckets of water over the span of several minutes. And filling a large cauldron over the hearth to warm the water in order to properly clean the clothes. When the water was sufficiently warm, she transferred the water from the cauldron into the washbasin. Thoroughly cleaning the clothes with care as to not cause them any damage, but get them sufficiently clean and tidy. She worked into the small hours of the morning, cleaning the clothes, and hanging them near the hearth to dry faster. Afterwards she cleaned the mess from doing laundry, and the small mess she'd made earlier in the day while preparing dinner. Lastly she cleaned up the mess made from the muddy sled she'd dragged into her home. By the time she was finished, the sun was beginning to rise, the storm subsiding a short while ago. And in that time she'd accidentally fallen asleep sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall across from the hearth.

While she rest soundly in the main room of the cottage, Daemon began to stir awake. Hissing in discomfort at the stinging pain in his sides, and the dull throb of his head. He felt hungover, and as if he were half on deaths door. Regardless he opened his eyes, blinking away the drowsy need to close them again. Realizing quickly that he didn't know where he was, or how he got there. Clearly it wasn't the castle, and the more he tried remembering the night before, the more confused he was. He remembered arguing with his brother, about something trivial, and then taking Caraxes for a ride. Then he remembered the storm, he remembered flashes of lightning nearly striking them out of the sky. And he remembered falling for what felt like an eternity. He quickly rushed out of the bed, trying to ascertain where he ended up. Barging out of the room, he half expected to be in a tavern or maybe even a brothel. And he was admittedly a tad bit surprised to find himself in a quant cottage instead. He wandered around the room, only realizing he wasn't in his own clothes, when he saw his hanging near the hearth. Peering around the hearth he finally spotted his host, sound asleep and looking exhausted.

He wondered how longs she'd been awake, and if she had been the one to bring him into her home. Caraxes made a noise from outside, startling the woman awake, which made Daemon smirk softly. "You're awake!" She breathed out in near astonishment, quickly standing from her spot on the floor. "Who might you be?" He asked her, committing her face to memory. "(Y/n) Voss, my lord." She bowed her head respectively. "I am no mere lord, sweetling, I am Prince Daemon Targaryen." He held his head high, smirking again at her clear surprise. "My Prince." She bowed more respectively, but Daemon waved it off. "Daemon will suffice." He hummed watching her closely as she relaxed before him. "How did I get here?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "I brought you here, I found you on the beach last night during the storm. Your dragon... It made quite a commotion, and I went to investigate." She looked almost bashful, making the Rouge Prince smile. "And he let you bring me here?" He inquired curiously. "It took some convincing, but he's a smart creature, and I think he knew I only wanted to help you." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You must be a special creature to gain the trust of a dragon so quickly." Daemon mused with a grin, loving the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

Part two ->

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Arranged marriage

Chapter three

Royal au

Princess Natasha X queen autistic reader

Warnings: Natasha being a bitch. Natasha being jealous. Woman flirting with y/n. Swearing (minor) lemme know if there anymore. Natasha getting feelings? Oblivious y/n

Natasha pov

I want to rip out my eyes. Why on earth am I here. This is so stupid. Riding in a carriage with this idiot queen. Those are my first thoughts as I stare angrily out the window of the carriage me and queen y/n are sitting in. Said queen is hiding from the crowds of people outside the carriage. She's so backwards. Never wanting too many people around and only tolerating socialisation for a specific time frame before vanishing for sometimes days. In my opinion she's not fit to be a queen.

Fresh air finally. I think to myself as me and the idiot behind me climb out the carriage into the town square. People have crowded near the carriage. Ofcourse they have. Their "queen" is here. I grumble slightly as the guards help down y/n. Gods she can't even get out a carriage by herself what a useless idiot. I don't know why but my thoughts of rage and hatred have increased towards y/n. Perhaps it's to make up for the fact she's cute and her hands are soft and she really nice. Like right now with how she's thanking the guard who helped her over and over like the absolute sweetheart she is. What. No. Absolutely not. Y/n is a idiot on the throne and I will murder her. I don't find her cute I don't find her sweet and Queen y/n is not a sweetheart.

There's a wyvern on that houses roof. I wonder if y/n will notice it and rant about its species. I already know it's a wyvern because y/n said earl- why am I thinking that. It's just an idiot dragon. And boom y/n has seen it. She's ranting again. Gods I hate it. What on earth is a blood bellied wyvern and why does it matter. That dragon was black not red. I hate cobblestone too now that I think about it. My heels keep threatening to buckle beneath me. Good thing I'm an absolute goddess and can walk in heels anywhere.

Y/n pov

The carriage ride to the town square was quiet. I didn't want to interrupt Natasha too much. And if I spoke even a word I'm pretty sure she'd tell me to shut it anyway. Besides looking out the window was fun. I saw so many different dragons. I wish I could've been able to get a proper look so I could see what species they are. There's so many people outside watching the carriage though. I should've held this off until my social battery filled again. I am going to hate this trip. I really should stop letting Natasha's parents coerce me into stuff.

Finally the carriage stops and the doors open and fresh air hits me like a train. I go to step out but a guard offers me a hand. I have told them to stop doing that. They really should listen I can get out of my own carriage. But I accept his help not wanting him to feel foolish. The cobblestone streets are filled with people and horses and carriages. I like the town. Aside from the bustling people and market stalls scattered around the town square it's a nice break from the palace. A nice break from being a queen. Princess Natasha is scowling. Like always. I am pretty sure it's her default expression.

Me and the princess have walk a little now. Passed a stall selling dragon egg remains. I don't like those stalls. They often steal and break dragon eggs to get the product. I shudder slightly. Natasha hasn't been paying any attention. She's been grumbling about idiots and cobblestone. She wore heels so I guess that's why. Should've worn flat shoes like me. I did tell her so. I look up at the houses around us and.. no way. A blood bellied wyvern right there on the rooftop of a civilian house. They only come down this way in the winter! I've never seen one before aside from in books.

My mouth is running again. I never know why I do this. But I excuse myself mentally this time since I've never witnessed this dragon before. Their scales are reflective of their blood colour which is why they're called blood bellied wyverns. Well the belly part is because you see the actual veins and blood but still. I haven't had a single interruption from Natasha yet. She's just walking silently beside me as I rant. I slow down and pause looking at the queen feeling a bit bad now. I must've pissed her off in some way again.

"are you ok princess?"

I ask hesitantly. I don't like the way Natasha has paused. She's staring at me funny and I'm prepared for her to scowl and scream at me. She huffs instead.

"I'm fine just keep walking."

I blink surprised as Natasha keeps walking and I speed up to catch up to her.

Natasha pov

She's still ranting. Something about the wyverns scales reflecting their blood colour.. oh that's why it's called whatever it was. I can't help but steal glances at y/n. She's so annoying. So very annoying. And absolutely perfect at the exact same time. No. I won't go down that rabbit hole. I am not stupid. Falling in love is for pitiful useless peasants. Not royalty. Why does my heart not agree with my head. It's stupid. I'll fix it.

"are you ok princess?"

Y/n's voice stops me. That's not about dragons. I glance down at her attempting a scowl but I can't respond. She's looking at me with wide y/e/c eyes and I can't help but find her expression adorable. No. No no no no no. She's not adorable and she's not cute. I huff slightly shaking away all those intrusive thoughts

"I'm fine just keep walking"

I scowl again as I pick up pace once more. Y/n speeding up to get back to my side. She's so small. Like a puppy. No. Absolutely not. Puppies and y/n have nothing in common. I'll kill her. And I won't feel bad about it and I won't regret it. Everything will be fine. I go to yell at y/n as per normal but she's not by me anymore. I glance around and.. there. By a stall selling books and scrolls. I stand and watch her annoyed. Ofcourse she'd stop to look at scrolls and books. And judging by her expression it's dragon bullshit again. The woman serving her is leaning over the counter and talking to y/n about different species. That grin on the merchants face. That's not a friendly grin...

It's been ten minutes and y/n has not stopped talking to the merchant. She's bought atleast three books and five scrolls. And that merchant is clearly flirting with y/n. Doesn't she know the queen is engaged. To me no less. Why is this bothering me. I mean I should be annoyed it's taking so long that's normal but why am I pissed that the queen is being flirted with. Why does it irritate me more than the books. I want to tear that merchant's eyes out and turn them into a necklace for y/n to wear and I don't know why.

She touched her arm. That merchant touched y/n's arm. And I don't like it. Rage hits me like a brick. That bitch can't touch what's mine. There is a clear engagement ring on the queen's finger and it's public knowledge that y/n is betrothed to me. I storm over absolutely enraged at this pathetic sellers attempt to steal MY y/n. Swiftly wrapping an arm around y/ns waist I glare down my nose at this merchant. Watching in sick satisfaction as she backs up scared. Good to know she recognises me.

"back the fuck away from my fiancee."

I snarl. Pulling y/n closer to me. She's so small and she's looking at me shocked. I'll deal with it later. That merchant gets the hint and backs up mumbling apologies and handing y/n her books. I grab them and pull the queen with me away and back towards the carriage. I don't y/n until we are both in the carriage and leaving.

Y/n pov

I saw a dragons scroll and books stall. That looked fun so I told Natasha I was looking at it and went over. I haven't seen this stall before and it has so many books and scrolls. Most I already own but a few I don't! I immediately purchase the scrolls and books I don't have. It would be foolish if I didn't. A waste. Besides I'm the queen I can do as I please. The merchant running the stall is wonderful too. She's really friendly. Immediately we are in conversation about gilded bronze dragons and their subspecies. I haven't met a single other person who could talk dragons with me.

Don't recognise the touch at first. The seller just put her hand on my arm and smirked at me. I blink and smile back not really knowing what's happening before I'm grabbed into someone and the merchant is backing away. I frown wanting to continue talking about dragons and books still. I glance at the person who grabbed me prepared to tell them off for grabbing me politely because yelling at people is Soo mean and I don't have the heart until I realise the person who grabbed me is princess Natasha romanoff.

"back the fuck away from my fiancee."

Natasha scowls at the merchant as she pulls me closer. I didn't realise how much taller the princess was compared to me. Jesus Christ am I actually that short. I blink slightly and glance around trying to gouge out if this is normal or weird and nope this is definitely weird the townspeople are looking at us funny. I'm about to speak until Natasha grabs my books and scrolls and begins dragging me back to the carriage. I don't even argue with her I'm in a state of shock. I never thought I'd see the day Natasha would get... Jealous?

A/n: I am sorry this is so late I didn't like the ending originally and rewrote it like three times so I haven't been on much but I've started chapter four and I will go back to normal posting again I promise.

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[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

Look, it’s not like Astarion intended on becoming a Harper, it’s just - well, burglary and pickpocketing are a little more difficult when you can’t enter homes without an invitation or go outside during the day, and he’s grown rather accustomed to a certain elevated lifestyle. There are other places he could turn to for money: the city owes him an estate and a title at the bare minimum. But, there’s something to be said for self-sufficiency, and, though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t make it through three weeks as a noble without being bored out of his mind.

The Harpers need warm bodies (or cold ones, as it were) to rebuild their ranks after Orin’s doppelgangers, and Jaheira’s a savvy old crone who never learned to take no for an answer. She pinpoints Astarion’s two weak spots: a heavy coinpurse and kidnapped children, street kids, the kind no one would miss.

They’re decidedly amateurish criminals, and it doesn’t take him long to track them down and dispatch them, messily and painfully. Four children sit huddled in a cage, and Astarion knows he must look every bit the monster as he picks the lock with hands covered in gore, but they don’t shy away in fear when he opens the door. One of them slips his chubby little hand into Astarion’s and refuses to let go until they reach the safehouse. It’s…odd.

“Good work, Harper,” Jaheira tells him after, and Astarion makes it explicitly clear that he’s simply an independent contractor, an expensive one. 

Jaheira just smirks like the witch she is.

So he contracts. He infiltrates the Guild (and feels insulted when Nine Fingers doesn’t recognize him; he’d like to think he’s rather unforgettable), foils an assassination plot or three, even teams up with Minsc and a turncoat Thayan to stop a gaggle of Red Wizards from doing…whatever it is they do. It’s a good business, he supposes. A hero’s reputation is a small price to pay for a hero’s coffers.

Jaheira’s wise enough to know when to hang up her blades, and it makes her more of an insufferable busybody than ever, which - somehow - becomes Astarion’s problem. First, it’s his own cell, then suddenly he’s the field contact for four others. He’s dragged to the most dreadfully tedious logistical meetings imaginable. The only reason he agrees to any of it is that Jaheira can turn an offhand comment and a raised eyebrow into the kind of challenge that itches beneath Astarion’s skin. It should be all too familiar and just as unwelcome, that burning need to prove himself, but it’s not. It’s different, perhaps, when he isn’t being set up to fail.

Jaheira passes away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of one hundred and ninety-two, and Astarion’s convinced he can hear her grumbling about that all the way from the Fugue Plane. She would have rather gone out fighting, but, privately, Astarion feels like she deserved something gentler than bleeding out on a battlefield. He never did tell her how much he admired her (though he doubts she would have appreciated such open sentiment: ‘I did not realize I looked so terrible that you’ve already started my eulogy.’), but she must have known. He thinks he’s really going to miss her.

Right up until the moment Rion is handing him a pin and leading him to a library full of dossiers and documents. Then, he’s ready to cross the Astral Sea just so that he can bring her back and kill her again. Independent. Contractor. What part of that did she not understand? 

He goes home and locks the door with the full intention of ignoring every Harper that comes knocking. But Harpers are nosy little shits, and after he nearly disembowels one who surprises him by breaking into his house just to tell him the most idiotic plan to dismantle a smuggling ring he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he realizes hiding isn’t going to be an option. Besides, Astarion cannot be privy to such levels of incompetence and sit idly by. 

So he helps. Provisionally. Just long enough to find a decent replacement, and then he can wash his hands of the whole thing.

Unfortunately, it’s not as easy a task as he had hoped. Every potential candidate lacks something: consistency, creativity, confidence, the common sense to understand Astarion’s eminently logical filing system. It takes him three decades to accept that not only is he excellent at the job, but that he enjoys it immensely. 

When they make him take a title, he chooses Spymaster. It suits him - dashing, mysterious, questionably moral, because he’s never been a hero, and it would be foolish to pretend that he is.

They all call him High Harper anyways.

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 28

wc: 3020, masterpost

“I get why you insisted on picking me up,” she said as she watched the black sedan part the sea of reporters outside of Wayne Manor. Her hand made a half aborted motion, like she wanted to fidget with with her hair despite the red being cropped close to her scalp in a pixie cut.

The haircut would be a new thing, or new enough that in stress old habits were still there. Perhaps something she did when moving into her doctorate. A new hair cut to go with a new stage of life. She went for an extreme though, maybe trying to shed a metaphorical weight or maybe a bob would have been too much like her mother’s hair. Maybe both.

Dick gave his head a little shake and tried to stuff the parts of himself that couldn’t help be analyze someone away.

It was worse with the stress of it all.

“I know, right? They’ve been crazy,” Dick said with a laugh.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Dick blinked. “Do what?”

“Pretend everything is okay. You don’t have to do what with me. After all, we’re both big siblings, aren’t we?” Her own, wry smile didn’t reach her aquamarine eyes.

Dick wanted to protest and for a moment he almost did. Then Dick just sighed and let himself slump into his seat. “That obvious?”

“No, I just know what it’s like,” Jazz said.

“I shouldn’t be putting this on you though, not with what happened to Danny—”

She held up manicured hand. “Don’t. Suffering isn’t a competition. Besides, I got to learn this happened knowing that Danny was already safe and being taken care of. I didn’t have to think he was dead like you all did. I also didn’t have to learn about all the rest of it. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Knowing my little brother is still dead?” Dick gave a bitter bark of a laugh. “Yeah, it’s hard.”

“Half dead,” Jazz said with a smile that was all too understanding. “That half part is important to them. They’re half dead. They’re half alive. They aren’t the little brothers we had before and that’s hard. It’s okay for that to be hard.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “It shouldn’t change anything.”

“But it does.”

“It does.”

“That’s alright,” Jazz soothed. “It’s a big fact, of course it’s going to change things. As long as he’s still your little brother and you love him then the rest won’t matter so much, not with some time.”

The car came to a stop in the garage. Dick let himself take a deep breath as the door rolled closed. It was always about needing time, but at least they still had it.

“Well, Miss Nightingale, shall we go inside?”

“Thank you, Mister Grayson,” she said and took his offered hand to get out of the car. “And thank you again for the ride, Alfred. Picking me up from WE was the right move.”

“And you needn’t worry about your car, it will be safe in the parking garage,” Alfred assured her.

She covered an amused snort with her hand. “You saw my car, no one is going to try and steal that old thing.”

Alfred held the door to the house open. “Perhaps slightly more worried about the press hoping to find something.”

“Would they really break into my car?”

“They would,” Tim said from where he was standing inside the door, typing away on a tablet. “Gotham’s lost prince shows up at a gala with his mystery boyfriend and then proceeds to press the kill button for said boyfriend? The press is going insane for it. If it was just Gotham’s press it would be one thing, but it’s broken containment and fast. Have you said anything to any reporters? Even any non statements? Is there anything that the might dig up on you, other than your parents, that we need to know about?”

“Jazz, this is Tim. We’re sorry about him,” Dick said with a strained smile. It only got worse when he took in Tim and the heavy bags under Tim’s eyes. “Tim, when was the last time you slept?”

Tim waved the question away. “I had a power nap after breakfast.”

“What Master Timothy means is that he fell asleep at the table mid-meal,” Alfred chastised as he continue into the manor proper.

“Still counts,” Tim muttered. Finally he looked up from his tablet to blink listlessly at them. “Well?”

“Tim,” Dick chastised.

“No, it’s fine,” Jazz said with a patient smile of someone used to behavior like this. “It really is… everywhere. I haven’t said anything to any press other than ‘no statement’ and I can’t think of anything. Well, I mean, I have a girlfriend but if they have an issue with her they already have Danny and Jason to rage over. How is Danny handling it all?”

“Tim has blocked all social media from the manor. You need a password to get through it and I don’t think they’ve been bored enough to try and crack it yet,” Dick said.

Jazz looked thoughtful. “That’s probably best. I’m alright with you asking more questions, but can I see Danny first, please?”

Tim blinked as if startled by the thought. “Yes, right, of course. They’re probably still in the library, that’s where I saw them last.”

“That was yesterday,” Dick pointed out.

“Oh, well,” Tim tilted his head but didn’t stop talking. “I bet I’m still right.”

Dick just sighed and exchanged a look with Jazz. Little brothers.

-

Jazz crouched down in front of the couch and reached out to run her fingers through Danny’s hair.

“Danny.”

“Nn.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Danny.”

“’ive m’er min, Jazz,” he mumbled sleepily.

“If you don’t get up, I’m calling Cujo.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Danny explained and jolted awake before he was left just blinking confessedly at the room. When the rest of it snapped together for him he smiled brightly. “Jazz!”

“Danny!”

“Your hair looks even better in person!” Danny said, reaching out to ruffle the short locks.

“I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed Danny, I will bite you.”

Danny sighed dramatically as he sat up properly. “I never get to die on a bed. At least this time I was sitting.”

Jazz leaned forward and wrapped Danny up into a crushing looking hug. “Oh Danny, what am I going to do with you?”

“Still don’t have an answer for you there, Jazz,” Danny said. He was practically curled around Jazz and stayed that way as she shifted to sit with him on the couch.

She looked up at Jason who was still standing awkwardly by the couch where he had greeted her. “You can sit. I don’t bite.”

Jason snorted. “You just threatened to bite Danny. I don’t believe you.”

“Her bites aren’t bad,” Danny said with a yawn. “But her aim is horrible. And don’t let her have a baseball bat. She’s lethal with one of those.”

The almost fanged way that Jazz smile made that easy to believe.

“I approve of you, Nightingale,” Damian said with a decisive nod from the armchair he was occupying.

“What are you going to do now that there are two Nightingales?” Tim asked, far too innocently.

Damian scowled, his whole face scrunched up before he gave a sharp shrug. “I am confident that the Nightingales are intelligent enough to know which one I am referring to.”

Jason shook his head at the easy way the brat seemed to accept Jazz and settled on the far side of the couch from her, leaving Dick and Tim to take the two seater.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, Jazz,” Danny said, though his words were at odds with how thoroughly he had relaxed into her side.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “You were electrocute Danny, again. Of course I was going to come see you. Even if classes were in session, you’re more important than them.”

“Hum, fine,” Danny said with a huff of air. Somehow he settled in even further to his sister’s side. “Sam, Val, and Tucker send their love. With all the crazy press I told them to stay away so not to get caught up in this.”

“It is something for sure,” Jazz agreed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m tired and tired of being tired, it sucks. Oh, I’ve got more Lichtenberg scars!” Danny stuck his legs up in the air. His fuzzy, Nightwing patterned pants slid down his legs enough to show the scarring that wrapped around his ankles. The marks were still raised and red. Jason caught the legs as they dropped and settled them into his lap. He couldn’t help but run his thumb over the mark as soft reassurance that Danny was there and alive despite it all. “Not sure if these will stick around since they’re not ghostly.”

“You need to stop collecting them. No more getting electrocuted, big sister’s order.”

“Second that on boyfriend’s orders,” Jason said.

“Thirding that from the in-laws,” Dick said. In-laws? “Aw look at that, Jaybird is blushing.”

Jason pulled a throw pillow out from behind him and lobbed it at Dick. “Shut it.”

Dick easily caught the pillow with a laugh. “Jason and Danny, kissing in a tree—”

“Grayson, try to not be an embarrassment,” Damian said with a sigh.

“What? Jason and Danny could totally kiss in a tree. Danny can fly! I mean, not that we’ve seen it yet but he says he can,” Dick said.

“Oh he can. Nothing like walking into your little brother’s room to find him sitting on the ceiling,” Jazz said. “It was an interesting childhood.”

“It makes hanging things easy too,” Jason teased.

Danny sighed dramatically. “I knew you were just into me to be your glorified ladder.”

“That’s just because he wants to climb you,” Tim muttered absently.

Jason held up his hands for Dick to throw the pillow back to him and then lobbed it at Tim. It smacked Tim square in the face, making his little brother’s shoulders slump as it landed on his tablet.

“Really?”

“Don’t be crude,” Jason said.

Tim glared at Jason from under his bangs. The kid’s hair was getting long again. “Oh that’s rich coming from the Red Hood.”

“Red Hood?” Jazz’s voice cracked slightly.

Jason buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Oh, shit, did she now know? I thought she knew!”

The whole couch shifted as Danny pulled himself up by Jason’s shirt so that he could cuddle him. “It’s okay, I love my hero.”

“Vigilante,” Jason mumbled.

“Daniel John Nightingale!” Jazz screeched. “Tell me you’re not doing vigilante stuff again!”

“Ooooooh full named!” Dick heckled.

“I am not doing vigilante stuff again,” Danny said.

“He’s really not,” Jason promised as he shifted Danny around to be more comfortable. “That’s just family business. I wouldn’t ask him to get involved.”

“Family…,” Jazz said. Jason watched her eyes dart from Danny to Jason to the rest of them. “Ancients you’re all, what would you call it? Various Batmen?”

“Usually we just go with Bats,” Tim said with a little shrug. “Especially since we’re not all, or only, men.��

“Okay, Bats,” Jazz said with a sigh. “Really, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, completely unrepentant by the way he smiled. “I didn’t know! I didn’t even know Jason was a Wayne until just before we started dating. That one is maybe on me though, I’m bad with faces.”

“You always have been,” Jazz said. “Really though, no hero stuff?”

“None. I’m focused on school. Well, and Jason. Dates are very nice, but mostly I’m focused on school. You can’t blame me for enjoying dates too!” Danny said.

Jazz laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m glad you’re enjoying dates. Just try to stay out of the business, okay? I want you to be able to just enjoy your life. You have enough obligations waiting for you when you’re dead.”

“Do we have to work when we’re dead?” Tim asked desperately. “Please tell me we don’t have to work when we’re dead. That’s when I was planning to sleep.”

“No, Tim,” Jazz said gently. “Most people don’t work when they’re dead. Danny’s just an idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—who became the Ghost King without realizing what he was doing. His forever job starts when he dies.”

“Wait wait wait,” Dick spread his hands. “Danny is royalty?”

“Mhum.”

“Oh my god,” Dick said with a gleeful smile that Jason didn’t trust one bit. “Does that make Jason a prince? Queen? Does it feel like you’re in one of your regency books, Jay? What’s it like.”

Jason groaned and buried his face into Danny’s hair. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Dick cooed.

“Oh good, Jason can work then,” Tim said. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep now,” Jason pointed out. “No one is stopping you. Hell, Alfred would encourage it.”

“Can’t,” Tim said. “I’ve got to get this PR stuff done. Is this a diplomatic issue now too?”

“What can I answer to help?” Jazz asked in such a patently big sibling way that Jason glanced up to exchange a look with Dick. Having one more person after Tim to rest couldn’t hurt.

Tim pursed his lips. “We’ve already done the usual asking for respect during this difficult time. Babs and I have been working on making sure the part of the video where Danny asked Jason to press the button is in circulation and in the right hands. There have been some pointed emails sent. Bruce is going to go on tomorrow and give a brief statement— which we need some answers for. We’ve got Clark coming to interview in a few days to do a proper story. Luckily Vickie Val has made it easy for us to go out of Gotham for that story with how she’s been behaving.

“They’ve found out about your parents, of course, but we were able to respond instantly with your name change and, in all essence what was nearly emancipation with how quickly you did it and moved out. There are some character stories from old classmates though calling you odd but also defense from current ones that we’ve been pushing further up in the SEO. Between those details and his survival, it’s no wonder that the question of Danny being a meta is circling That’s the main thing we need to know how to address and if we want to play into it.”

Jason had to take a moment to respond to all that. He’d been so focused on helping Danny heal and stay happy that he hadn’t even thought half of that through. He knew the press were out there, of course they were, but… “You’ve really worked this out, haven’t you?”

Tim just blinked owlishly at him. “Of course I have. It’s what I do. I know you didn't like me looking into Danny when we first found out about you dating him, but… this is why I do those things. Not just to protect the family from other people, but to protect the people who get close to us. I can help direct the conversation because I know ahead of time that things like the Fentons will come up."

“Thank you Tim, really.”

“Um… you’re welcome,” Tim said before he looked back down at his tablet. “We do need to decide if we go the meta route at all. Would that cause issues with the Fentons? Do they also hate metas?”

“No,” Jazz said. “Well, they would basically look at superheroes to make sure they weren’t ghosts in disguise or possessed, but other than that they didn’t really mention metas. It was actually pretty much a non topic in our town with everything else.”

“But we’d have to be careful with what we say I can do or… well, they’ll clock me as a ghost. I’ve never wanted to find out what would happen then.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” Dick asked in that carefully gentle tone of his.

Danny shrugged. “That but more old fears. There used to be a group called the GIW that were government funded ghost hunters that had legal clearance, basically, to experiment and exterminate any ecto-entities. I really don’t want to be dissected like some classroom frog.”

“Vivisected,” Jazz corrected in such an absent way that it spoke of old arguments.

Jason clutched Danny closer to him.

“It’s okay. They never really were very above the board, it turned out, and when the power changed hands they lost their funding and just sort of disappeared.”

“But it doesn’t mean there fear did,” Dick summed up.

“We will look into them,” Damian said, standing. “To be certain that they are gone and no longer a threat to you or Todd. Drake, you will not be needed on this while you are in this sleep deprived state. I will seek Gordon’s help instead.”

“Hey! I can still—”

“Finish up asking us questions,” Jazz interrupted smoothly. “It wouldn’t be hard to spin Danny as a mild meta from the results of a lab accident.”

“Maybe even give a half truth,” Jason said. “He was electrocuted around some chemicals and he ended up with a mild resistance to it.”

“That could work,” Tim said, tapping away on his tablet. “Generally useless in day to day life other than cutting down on annoyances when wiring something but just enough to survive this sort of trap. Have Bruce throw in a joke about how Danny produces a lot of static electricity or something to lighten the mood.”

“And it would make it seem like Danny has a resistance, not a weakness, in case anyone tries something again,” Jason added.

“That would be nice. Being tased really, really sucks,” Danny whined.

Jason pressed a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I know, fish.”

“Yes, alright, Bruce will need to put it in his own Brucie wording but I think this will work,” Tim said with a little nod. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

---

AN: Rereading through this, this might just be the whole chapter. Maybe I'll make the interview it's own chapter to cut down on the shock of going to that style of pov and piece. And then the final* chapter? Thoughts thoughts...

Anyways, words are hard, brain is tired, here is Jazz!

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

[r3starttt]

OBLIVIATE | 02

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > 01 > 03

CW: modern!au. +18 content. poly relationship. POC friendly. ellabs x reader. | hate sex (AxE). thigh riding (E). hair pulling (E). fingering. edging. orgasm denial. mean Abby.

SUMMARY: Yearning for warmth and protection, you find yourself tangled in complicated relationships. Abby's charm wins your parents' favor, overshadowing everything else, while Ellie's struggle for independence clashes with your own expectations.

PRELUDE TO ECSTASY

Those portraits of women who have huge animals on their laps- your parents had several of them in their summer house. You always wondered if they were real; at seven years old, they seemed quite convincing.

They instilled in you a longing for the warmth that came with holding the weight of those beasts on your lap, a craving for the love and protection they symbolized. You imagined the comfort and guardianship they could provide, yearning to feel that unconditional affection, to be seen without fear, to not be bitten.

It was scary to see them when it was night and you had to walk from your room to the bathroom and vice versa. Yet, something within you reminded you that behind those eyes was no mere beast—they weren't real. Under the warm daylight steaming through the windows, your fear transformed into a desire for their presence, and perhaps that was your issue—logic.

It it was scary, even if it was only during nights, why couldn't you allow the fear within your childish brain.

In the bathroom you once shared with your cousins, there was a large mirror. It was funny to brush your teeth with them, making weird faces, playing with the loud water that ran down the sink. It was funny to look at yourself while your mother brushed your hair, or pretend you were disgusted whenever your dad came to kiss your mom and say goodnight to you.

You would look at your reflection during those nights, admiring your tidy hair now braided by your mother. Your eyes would naturally look at the door, imagining if maybe there was something behind it that you didn't see before you closed it.

Now it's only memories, a mirror no longer shared, barely used. A mirror that pictures you being held by heavy hands, a mirror that reflects the bruises on your neck drawn by hungry lips.

"Ellie's still sleeping" a voice brought you back to the present, the beginning. blonde hair appearing in your peripheral vision. The sunlight from the bathroom skylight gave it an ethereal glow. "I can still smell the alcohol," you said, your voice sharper than intended. Abby just laughed

-

One thing is certain: you didn't forget what you learnt during study session. Neither did Ellie, and well, Abby didn't have to do much.

Blabber over blabber praised by their tongues, their wet lips on your body. If you somehow forgot a term, a name, a date, they had you waiting, forcing you to study again and see- hear them instead.

Ellie's tattoo on full display, hugging the warmth of Abby's flesh, right in front of you. Hungry tongues dancing against each other, soft and quiet whines brushing Abby's lips.

Perhaps there is truth in the saying that discipline and determination pay off, and that studying with others enhance your efficiency.

After great notes and a few self made parties to celebrate, you had only one request to make before Abby graduated.

"My parents have this religious summer vacation routine... I uhm- I'd really like to spend more time together before you leave." Her fingers intertwined with yours, ocean-blue eyes fixed on your puppy-like gaze. With a soft nod, she made you feel secure, safe, and tranquil.

"Yeah?" red puffy lips pressing against yours for what felt like the millionth time that hour. "Sure, why not? It'll be fun." she inquired.

You wondered if you should have ignored how your body reacted to her, if things would have ended differently had you not been blinded by your parents' respect and collage girl's admiration.

If maybe avoiding drinking on the first day Ellie met your parents would have revealed the truth before you gave in temptation.

-

"Hey, gotta get ready, yeah?" careful fingers brushed the auburn messy hair of an unconscious Ellie laying on your childhood bed. Groans and mumbles escaped from her lips, weak eyes being hit by the sun that entered with no warning through the room's windows.

"Abby" the stern of your tone elicting a weak laugh from her, whose hands shifted from the courtains to the bed you've shared with the auburn. Her eyes fixated on Ellies body too, half covered by a white blanket.

"Wanna marry her and can't even make it to have breakfast with her parents" Abbys muscles embraced William's hips over the blanket. "Fuck off Abigail" You slapped the hand in front of Ellie's sleepy face, her palm joilting at it.

Ellie stirred, pushing Abby's body off as she sat up in bed, her eyes flickering open. She looked at your still-pajama-clad body, confused. Her eyes glanced to Abby's. "The fuck are you so mad about, I thought you were dressed already"

Her sock-covered feet hitting the cold floor with each weak mad step as she headed to the shared bathroom.

"Don't even have shit to put on" muffled vocals hitting your ears the moment you stepped in the bathroom too. Hazel eyes glancing back at your reflection. "Dress however you feel more comfortable and... yeah. It'll be fine, promise" nails digged at your clavicle, walking across the bathroom to meet the hall that leaded to Abby's room, to change into more suitable clothes.

Ellie walked back to the room, toothbrush being held by her lips. Her eyes met Abby's.

"You make me look like a fucking loser" Anderson's body straightened to sit on the bed, her elbows resting on her knees as she spoke through her eyes. "You are one" she retorted, almost receiving a slap on the face by a towel on Ellie's hand "I don't wanna marry her"

-

"God, look at these beautiful young ladies," your mother's sharp voice pierced the air, making you almost want to cover your ears. She planted kisses on Abby's and Ellie's cheeks, her eyes scanning them up and down. Your father, much quieter, greeted them both with a nod.

Abby took it all in stride, reminding you of the first day you met her. Ellie, however, seemed uncomfortable with your mother's loudness and constant scrutiny. You stood behind your mom, making small gestures to calm her down and ease her discomfort.

it was evident who your parents favored. Your mother immediately asked Abby to sit beside her, leaving you to find a seat elsewhere. Despite the sting of this obvious preference, you found solace in Ellie's hands resting gently on your thighs and knees throughout the long, tedious hour. You were expected to sit there, look presentable, and talk about your long nights of drinking before classes as if they were accomplishments.

No matter what you said, the conversation inevitably shifted back to Abby and her magnetic presence. "Anderson," your dad mumbled, looking to your mother for any hint of approval before attempting to speak. "Did your father—" he began, but Abby cut him off. "You knew him?" she asked, instantly brightening the room. Your dad's face lit up as he heard Abby's father's name. "He was... admirable, always so responsible. He must be proud of you."

The scene before you, the warmth and approval you had longed for, was now lavished on a blonde girl who embodied everything your parents claimed to disdain—the epitome of the perfect, responsible rich.

The irony was almost too much to bear, yet you reminded yourself that this was exactly why you wanted her, despite the pain.

"Is that so? I remember you—" you started, but your mother cut you off with a sharp look that spoke volumes. "Don't say nonsense," she snapped. Your father gently murmured your name, a quiet plea for you to behave.

"You're identical to him," your dad continued, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. Abby's voice filled the silence, her grateful and flawless demeanor captivating everyone.

Ellie, on the other hand, focused on her food, her hazel eyes occasionally meeting yours with a subtle smile. Her demeanor remained unreadable until your mother finally acknowledged her. "Ellie, what about your family?" she asked. "We've heard you're quite smart. You also have a band, don't you?" your dad added, trying to ease the tension.

Ellie brushed off their questions with a dismissive "Nothing serious," before answering the barrage of inquiries about boyfriends, families, and finances—anything superficial that your mother could use to critique her or Abby, or both.

Your earlier words echoed in your mind: "Don't take it personally." This was the price of having people serve you warm eggs, fresh orange juice, and the most exquisite bread you had ever tasted.

-

The sun's warmth enveloped your bare back, a towel beneath you, your head resting on your crossed arms, and your chin nestled in your hands. Ellie lay beside you, her thumb incessantly scrolling through her phone, the sound loud and persistent.

You could hear Abby's lively conversation with your parents, despite the distance. Though you couldn’t see them, your mother's laughter and Ellie's focused eyes indicated that everyone was enjoying themselves.

"Is she always like this?" William's voice cut through, perhaps more sharply than intended. The loud thud of Ellie's phone landing on the grass beneath your sunbeds followed her words. "Yeah... they're born and raised rich, y'know?"

Ellie mimicked your position, her freckled face and reddened cheeks resting on her arms. She seemed hesitant, her tongue flicking across her lips before speaking. "I know what it's like... to beg for everything?"

You frowned at her comment. "What?" It might have been obvious that you weren’t the most cherished child, and maybe she sensed you sought your parents' approval to stave off loneliness. But begging? You didn’t beg. You planned and made things work.

"Your parents... I saw you looking at Abby earlier," Ellie said with a sheepish smile, her cheeks pressing against her arm, making her lips look puffy. "Hey, it's okay. I hate her too." you could tell she'd intended to make it hurt less.

You playfully shushed her with an outstretched arm. "I don't hate her." You shook your head slightly and adjusted yourself for a better view of her.

"Yeah, well your eyes said something else," she teased, the warmth between your bodies giving way to a silence filled only with birds chirping and distant chatter.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to gaze at the pool, where sunrays glinted off the water and leaves drifted lazily. "Why did you say that? Begging for everything?" you murmured, your voice muffled by your chin pressed against your arms.

"I- uhm" she paused a bit "Abby's helping me with money," Ellie admitted, her messy bun bobbing hesitantly to look at you, cherry cheeks shining on your direction. "Sometimes it feels like she enjoys it, like it makes her feel humble."

A simple hum of agreement seemed sufficient, but you felt the need to say more. "Well, my parents would be more than glad to help... if necessary."

Ellie had grown closer to you than she anticipated, seeing herself in you in ways Abby never could. Before her, she was just like you. And hearing that had stung her, made her physically weak.

Sometimes she wondered if being friends with Abby had brought her problems—the greed, the endless desire for more, the physical need for more, the hunger to prove herself.

You were the only relationship she believed could flourish without needing anything more than mutual attention. But when she saw who you were under your parents' eyes, things changed for her.

When Abby first pointed you out, Ellie hoped for another chance to meet you. If given the chance to start over, she would take it. Abby would leave soon, and she refused to be left alone with the life built for her. Meeting you at the library erased that fear. Even though you needed both Abby and her, Ellie knew she couldn't offer you the world, which maybe is and will always be what you need.

Coming here felt like voicing an uncomfortable truth aloud. You know it could cause problems, so you swallow the feelings until someone forces you to spit them out, and then the humiliation and messiness spills out with the words. And it's disgusting.

"That's the fucking problem," Ellie muttered.

Your gaze followed her as she hurriedly gathered her shirt and phone, her movements urgent and tense. Seated on the sunbed, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun with one hand. You knew that any attempt to argue, reason, or even touch her would be futile, so you let her go, confident that you’d see her again eventually.

Abby grabbed her shoulders, her brow furrowing as she took in the sight of the auburn-haired girl’s distressed face. Her eyes flicked over to you and then back to her until Ellie pushed her away.

You shifted on the sunbed, crossing your legs and letting your arms dangle loosely over the sides, your hands lightly slapping against your thighs. You waited for Abby to approach.

"Why's she mad? What did you do?" Abby's voice sounded genuinely concerned, though her tone had a nonchalant, even mocking edge.

"Nothing," you murmured.

Abby removed her shirt and tossed it onto the sunbed Ellie had vacated moments ago. "What did she say?" you asked, referring to your mother, as you glanced back at Abby struggling with her shoes.

"Uh, nothing," she groaned, settling onto the unused sunbed. "Something about her being hot when she was younger and successful and whatever." You furrowed your brows, a weak smile playing on your lips in confusion. "Bet you've heard it a lot."

"So, she was actually serious. She wants to meet my dad, that's all," you nodded, quietly lying back before Abby stopped you with a click of her tongue.

She extended her hand towards you, tilting her head towards the pool. With a reluctant look, you moved towards her and took her hand, standing up.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" Abby’s hands rested on your hips, the warmth of the water surrounding your bodies comfortably as the sun began to lose its intensity.

"I offered to help with the money but—" Abby cut you off, taking your hands and guiding you as she swam beneath a tree, the shade allowing her to see your troubled face more clearly.

"I'll talk to her later, yeah? It'll pass," you shook your head.

Ellie wasn’t known for her patience, but she had her reasons for being upset. You had noticed that she was generally tolerant when it came to Abby, but her vulnerability increased when others were involved.

"Hey, I mean it," Abby interrupted your thoughts again. "You know she doesn’t like help"

-

You couldn’t help but steal a glance through the window, curiosity piquing as you crept closer to the wall, the tall grass scratching at your legs.

The curtain covered most of the room, allowing only the smallest glimpse inside.

Their voices were audible, they had locked themselves in a few minutes ago. However the sudden quietness was unsettling.

You knew they wouldn't resort to physical violence, at least not to the extent of actually hurting each other. But with a few weeks left until the end of summer, you desperately needed them to get along.

The thought of your parents mocking you for inviting problematic strangers into their home was unbearable. Being stuck with them in the middle of nowhere for the next few weeks was even worse.

"I guess you're right. We've done more than we should've" Abby's voice cut through the silence as the couch creaked beneath her shifting weight. She smoothed her shirt, her hands tracing down her sides to rest in the pockets of her shorts. "You're on your own after this."

From your limited perspective, you could only glimpse Ellie's legs, clad in baggy jeans that trembled with the rhythm of her incessantly tapping foot. Abby's voice, soft but stern, cut through the tension, "I don't want to see you again," she repeated, each shaky step bringing her closer to the door.

Ellie stood abruptly, closing the distance between them. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating.

"You're not leaving," Ellie declared, her head shaking in denial. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, tracing invisible patterns on her palms. Though her voice wavered, betraying her anger and hurt.

"I'm not doing this," Abby retorted. Ellie's hands quickly latched onto Abby's, gripping with a force that promised bruises. "No, no, I'm not doing this. I'm not going to fight you," Abby insisted, her hands weakly attempting to push Ellie away.

"Yes, you will." Books cascaded off the bookshelf as Abby's body collided with it, eliciting a pained hiss. Abby’s fingers found Ellie's short auburn hair, tugging with palpable frustration. "Motherfucker," Ellie spat back.

Their breaths mingled, heavy and hot, each exhale hitting the other's face. Their expressions were a mix of frowns and quivering lips, their grips weakening with each passing second. Their eyes flickered with a mix of hate, pain, and regret.

Abby braced herself for cutting words or another bruising touch, but it didn't come, not how she expected.

Ellie's lips brushed against Abby's, a contact filled with irritation and even disgust. And then it hit them, the realization that, despite any mutual hatred, they were irresistibly drawn to each other.

Their bond was unavoidable—an intense mix of purity and violence that kept them intertwined in most intimate ways. A bond you had messed.

Abby’s fingers yanked Ellie's hair again in frustration. Ellie's lips, still connected by a trail of saliva, sought more, but the tight grip on her hair kept her at bay.

You could barely see, a sense of wrongness, shock and a morbid fascination rooting you to the spot you've been standing on for a few minutes now.

It was loud and messy. Abby's hands and body guiding Ellie who could only moan and groan in response. Sitting on a couch almost for you to see, which you didn't giving hurried steps against the grass to lead yourself to the back of the house and search for your parents.

Ellie's tattoo hiding underneath Abby's clothes, calloused fingers savoring every muscle, every inch of skin. Legs intertwined, Abby's hands gripping and slapping William's ass. "Fucking grind on 'em" she ordered.

And Ellie didn't hesitate. her proud getting hurt at each whimper she pressed against Abby's flesh, leaving open mouthed kisses. saliva wetting Abby's neck, jaw and chin.

Anderson's fingers gripping at Ellie's ass, guiding each movement on her own lap. thumb gripping the back belt loops of the auburn's jeans.

"Look at you..." Abby mocked Ellie’s current state. Half-lided eyes, mad and pained looking straight at her, flushed cheeks and plump lips letting out quiet groans. her hands making circles along the fat of Ellie's ass, leading her up her thigh, then down her knee. Ellie let out small whimpers, already pooling Abby's leg, clenching at the emptiness.

Abby bounced her leg. the vibrations hitting Ellie's already wet pussy. "What would she say if she saw this? mhm? if she really knew?" Ellie shocked her head, the humiliation blinding the pleasure briefly. "No?" Abby laughed. The plush of Ellie's thighs harshly gripped by Abby's fingers.

Abby leaned closer, her hands cupping Ellie's face, slowly moving behind her neck.

"Fucking slut you are Williams" she murmured. Her fingers now gripping at Ellie's hair once again. "Fuck- I'm sorry!" Ellie hissed, the grip on her hair tightening at her apologize.

"Shut up" She purposely lifted her leg again, bouncing it just to feel her knee against Ellie's cunt, eliciting a silent plead.

"Told you to shut up" Abby hissed. her hands leaving the auburn's ass, slapping it just a few seconds later. pleasure and pain starting to mix just right near Ellie's cunt.

Anderson's fingers trapped ellies cheeks. a tight grip on her hair to pull her face back so she could take a proper look of it. Puffy lips on a forced pout, eyebrows furrowed and nose slightky srunched.

She let go of Ellie's hair. Hands running hungrily to the zipper of her jeans, making enough space for her hand to fit in. "You make a fucking sound and I leave"

The moment Abby's fingers touched Ellie's puffy clit, all that annoyance she'd been kipping on her transformed into weakness, a disgusting need for being seen and touched by Abby.

William's lips giving Abby the privilege of hearing her quiet agitated breathing, whines and pleads over and over again.

"So wet mhm? Like it when I do that?" Abby mocked. her fingers rubbing painfully slow circles over Ellie's clit. legs open enough so the callouses of her hands could rub against her clit and eventually down her clothet folds.

The wet in Ellie's hole spreading all over boxers. Abby's leg bouncing felt like hell, yet she couldn't help but rub herself on it, riding the blonde's fingers.

Calloused digits moving underneath the auburn's boxers, hand lingering on the mound of her pussy, cupping it. Ellie's drool escaping her pressed lips, covering Abby's hand each second that went by.

Abby took her time, scissoring Ellie's folds, feeling the wet mess she'd made on her.

Eventually feeding her ego at each thrust. sticky arousal connecting her hand to Ellie's cunt, hitting and rubbing her clit coincidentally.

"like that? yeah?," Ellie didn't bother in letting out more than muffled whines against her hand. "you're so wet, aren't you ashamed?" Her mocking replied by Ellie's fingers toying with the hem of Abby's shirt.

Until Abby stopped, abruptly. "You wanted this" she hissed, her hands smoothly leaving William's body. "And I'll make sure she knows"

Reblogs and Comments very much appreciated!!!

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[laangdonn]

not anymore pt2

summary: y/n tries growing in her grief at hilltop.

pairing: carl grimes x female reader

a/n: ya’llllllll thank you so much for loving the first part!!! i’d actually written pt1 a year ago and never rlly planned to ever make a pt2 but ask and you shall receive lolol, hope you like!!

*read part 1 here*

*************************

“todays the day rick n carl should be gettin here,” maggie said, sending a spoon with tomato soup into her mouth, “you ready to see him?”

i released a shaky breath, playing with my own bowl of food as my starved appetite vanished. i stared at the red, swirling liquid. “i don’t know.”

“a month wasn’t enough time apart?” she asked, eyeing me cautiously.

i hadn’t wanted to repeat myself, but i had no other answer. “i- i don’t know.”

it hadnt seemed like a month apart. i would’ve sworn it had been yesterday i walked out of alexandria alone, two duffel bags in my hand and a gun, ready to fend off anything or anyone that crossed my path.

but it had been a month, the longest we’d ever been apart. and i missed him more than anything.

it still didn’t shake my hesitancy, my worry that the moment we spend time alone we’ll go back to disagreements and fighting and perhaps, i’d never go back to alexandria again. and that’ll be the end of us. till one of dies and the other is forced to reconcile the fact that we’d never made up.

it scared me to see him. to see death again.

“well,” maggie swallowed again, her short hair bristling in the chilly air from the open window, “i think when you see him, that’s when you’ll really know.”

i nodded slowly, my eyes still trained on my soup.

she stood up out of the chair, “i need to find greg, talk to him ‘bout a few things.” she eyed me again, noticing my static, unmoving position. “you’ll be alright while i’m gone?”

i looked up at her then, not wanting her to worry, “i’ll be fine, mags.”

she gave me a small, reassuring smile and a kiss on the crown of my head before she went off, and i was left in my thoughts.

luckily, maggie’s trailer provided a lot of privacy, and knowing the tenants at hilltop, i wouldn’t be disturbed.

i stared off to a chip in the paint, thinking.

——

“i can come with you.”

“carl-“

“why can’t i just take you to hilltop and leave?”

“because, carl, don’t-“

“it’s dangerous, y/n, and reckless-“

“carl-“

“and stupid-“

“would you stop interrupting me!”

he went quiet then, his burly arms crossed over his flannel chest, eye staring daggers into my figure.

we stood by the door to our house, two duffel bags leaning against the wall i so desperately wanted to pick up and run out.

i knew despite him saying he wouldn’t stop me going, it wouldn’t eliminate the imminent last ditch effort fight from occurring.

“you told me you’d let me go.” i said slowly, as if reprimanding a child, “don’t go back on your word.”

he rolled his eyes, “god forbid i don’t want you out there by yourself! have my dad take you for fucks sake just don’t-“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling stressfully, “don’t go by yourself.”

“i can take care of myself, carl.” i spat, feeling anger surge through me at his distrust in me. “i’ve survived this long.”

“you never know what can happen out there.” he threw his hands up, “or here! yesterday, that dick’s gun was to your head in this fucking room!”

i felt his rage, i voiced his yells. it made my head spiral that i were still trapped in alexandria, suffocating in this broken reflection of my relationship that could barely withstand some independence.

but, bringing myself to reality, i also knew his fear, knew the dread at the unknown. knew the loss he was experiencing even while i was still standing in front of him, alive and breathing.

i shuddered out a breath, walking over to him to put my hands sturdily on his shoulders.

i looked up at him, watching his anger dissipate when we locked eyes.

“i know you’re scared for me,” i said softly, talking quickly before he’d have a chance, “but i need you to trust me.”

“y/n-“

“no,” i put my finger to his soft lips, “let me finish.”

i brought my hand down, his eye watching my finger fall from his flesh.

“i’ll send a letter the second i get to hilltop, so you know i’m safe,” i swallowed, “i’ll have my gun loaded and extra ammo, anything i could scavenge up from the armory.”

his eyebrow relaxed, listening to me talk.

“this is what we’re made for now,” i shook him a bit and sent him a weary smile to ease his tension, “we’re made to do these things on our own.”

he exhaled shakily, nodding to fool himself into thinking he’d allow this, that he’d watch me walk away from him into trees of undead and alive.

i leaned up to his face, our noses brushing every so slightly. my heart boomed in my chest, beating so hard i swore he could hear it himself. maybe it was both of our hearts, desperate to intertwine again.

“do you trust me?” i whispered softly, so our lips grazed.

i heard him swallow, and the breath from his nose fan my face.

“yeah,”

i pulled back at that, knowing if we kissed, for the first time since…, i knew i’d lose the battle to my heart and stay.

i grabbed the two duffel bags and locked my palm around the doorknob.

looking over my shoulder, i sent a reassuring smile, “i’ll see you when we’re okay.”

he didn’t respond, and while it sent a jolt to my gut of disappointment and guilt, i turned back and opened the door.

“y/n,” i heard him say, just as i left.

i barely looked over my shoulder.

“i love you.”

i bit my lip, finally, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“i love you, too.”

and the door shut.

——

crossing the lines to hilltop and realizing who i’d be seeing almost sent me running the other direction.

fear of maggie’s state of being gave me a headache as i drew closer to the entrance, and once i was close enough in view, could see her faint outline on a lookout post illuminated by the bright sun behind her.

i knew she saw me when i heard a voice scream my name.

she disappeared from the post and soon the large, wooden doors opened. i ran the rest of the way, dropping my bags and falling tiredly into her expectant arms.

as much as i told myself i’d stay strong for her, the smell of her hair and the memories of that night came sweeping back and i sobbed, wet and noisily, into her chest that shook with her own cries.

i didn’t realize we’d fallen to the floor till i felt my exposed knees sting from skimming the rough dirt.

“what-“ she sniffled, a sob breaking through her, “what are you doing here?”

i took a shaky breath in, trying to compose myself, “i came to see you.”

she frowned, burying her face back into my shoulder.

we cried a few more moments, let ourselves drown in glenn’s absence, in front of all the onlookers who just watched silently.

i pulled back, dread creeping into my stomach when i looked at maggie’s

“the-“ i swallowed, “the baby-“

“fine,” she answered quickly, stroking tears off my cheeks and sending me a faint smile, “just fine.”

i breathed a sigh of relief, nodding at the scarce good news before standing and helping her up, too.

she looked healthier than the last time i saw her, fatter in her face and her arms. her stomach barely bulged as a reminder a part of glenn resided there.

behind her i saw sasha standing, her arms folded. even from far away, i could tell she just looked even worse, instead of better.

i sent her my best sympathetic smile, receiving one back but knowing deep down, it was just another lie to comfort me.

i looked to maggie, gripping her forearms, “take me to him.”

seeing glenn’s grave, surprisingly, comforted me more than disturbed me. to know we had him, safe under dirt and bugs, but still, safe. better than laying out in the gravel, for prying, evil eyes to view him.

he was returned back to us in less than one piece, but his soul was whole with us.

i held maggie’s hand as we looked down, a few flowers resting over the raised patch of dirt.

i swallowed harshly, “what would he think now?”

“of what?” she asked softly, our eyes never wavering from the ground.

“of carl and i. of what’s been destroyed.”

i felt her squeeze my hand, “you and carl aren’t destroyed.”

i shook my head, feeling tears blur my vision and my nose sting.

she continued, “you’re right for the time apart, to grieve separately if that’s what you need.”

“is it enough?” i asked brokenly, finally looking at her.

she gestured our intertwined hands to glenn’s grave.

“ask him.”

and so i did.

i spoke to glenn’s grave everyday. sometimes scattered stories of our memories, from the prison, from on the road. sometimes i cried so hard i couldn’t breathe under the empty dusk, sometimes i laughed so hard my stomach hurt. sometimes i sat in silence.

but mostly i talked about carl.

——

if i stared hard enough at that paint chip, i could’ve sworn the wall tore a bit more right before my eyes.

i knew who i had to see, to remind me this absence was for something, that i’d grown in my grief.

my feet carried me to his grave, hidden away behind maggie’s trailer. i sat down comfortably in front of it, hugging my knees to my chest.

“are we okay?” i whispered to the air. “will i see you in him?”

“was all of this for nothing? will it always be this way, glenn?” i wiped my hand over my nose.

i let out a shaky breath at the thought, “can we overcome this?”

“yes.”

my head whipped around, and i saw carl, standing with his arms at his sides, tears filling up his ocean eye.

it gave me whiplash how fast i stood up and launched myself into his unexpecting arms. they rested limp for a moment, but quickly moved to hug my torso tightly, lifting my feet slightly off the grass as i wedged my head between his neck.

we pulled back slightly to stare at each other, and i searched his face for the blood, for the black line, for the axe.

i smiled softly when i realized all i saw were glenn’s memories.

happy memories, of the hot days at the prison when we sweat so hard playing tag, of playing a dusty board game in alexandria the first night when we were too hesitant to sleep, of watching his love with maggie and seeing it reflected in carl and i.

“why’re you smiling?” he whispered, his own face pulling to reveal a grin. he knew.

i leaned in closer, tipping his sheriffs hat up so our noses could brush.

“because i don’t see it, not anymore.” i finally let our lips touch, a kiss that sent flames bursting in my stomach and my fingers to shake with anticipation.

he leaned into the kiss, and i felt the breath on my face at his sigh of relief.

i knew he knew what i meant when i saw the tiny twinkle in his eyes reappear looking at me, knowing he felt the same.

i pulled back ever too quickly, evident in how he leaned in again.

but before i gave him the chance to kiss me again, i let my smile burst through.

we all had a long way to go, people to kill and more people to lose, but in this moment, right in this moment:

“i see you now.” i said.

and that was enough.

[aisiedaisie]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა Hellooooo! My knees are lowkey quaking sending this req in considering its my first time ever but would thou be willing to write a poly!marauders x reader who is kinda like glinda from wicked? shes very bubbly, cutesy, a little bit air-headed but shes got good intentions and is OBSESSED OBSESSED with pink

no pressure though :) thank youuu ♡

Hello hello~!!!

Thank you so much for asking my dear! I am so sorry for taking so long to write this, I’ve been so busy with school. Now onto your request… I have, unfortunately, never seen Wicked so the characterization might not be the best but I hope I did your idea justice at the very least!

edit: If this isn't what you visioned let me know and I'll try again!!! ♡

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader WC: 1.3k

The morning air bit at your cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, as though winter itself had woken on the wrong side of the bed. A delicate dusting of snow still clung stubbornly to the pavement, its crystalline sheen interrupted by streaks of white running through the roads. Every breath hung visibly in the air, curling away like fleeting whispers, a reminder that, yes, it was absolutely freezing.

Still, you and the boys had ventured out into the icy embrace of the day, determined to check a few errands off your list. If everything went smoothly— and time was kind —perhaps a movie would sneak its way into the itinerary. That said, the clock was ticking. Remus had an appointment with his chiropractor later in the afternoon, leaving little room for dawdling.

This time of year had always held a special kind of magic for you. The looming promise of the holidays seemed to imbue the air with a tangible warmth, even as the weather remained frosty. Everywhere you looked, there were signs of joy: twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, the hum of cheerful holiday tunes spilling from shop speakers. Your heart felt lighter, your steps quicker — something Sirius was quick to notice.

"Aren’t you a joy this morning," he remarked dryly, his voice tinged with a sleepy amusement. His silver eyes tracked the skip in your step as you bounded ahead, radiating delight. While he was undoubtedly pleased to be with you all, his enthusiasm was dampened by the biting chill and the indignity of being awake so early. His only solace came in the form of the warm paper cup nestled in his gloved hands, filled with an indulgent sugar cookie latte that promised a sweet distraction.

Remus, walking slightly behind, shot Sirius a sideways look, bumping his hip in playful admonishment. He lengthened his stride to catch up with you, his long legs easily matching your pace.

“It’s the holidays,” James chimed in from behind, his tone carrying a fond warmth as he took a sip from his significantly less sweet coffee. “You know how she gets this time of year, Pads.”

Remus chuckled softly, slipping his hand into yours as they all trailed into the grocery store. A wave of warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket as the automatic doors slid open, the chill left behind in favor of the comforting hum of indoor heaters and the faint, tantalizing aroma of baked goods somewhere in the distance.

“So, what’s the plan, dove?” Remus asked, his voice low and gentle as he looked down at you.

You beamed up at him, your eyes alight with excitement. “Gingerbread! I want to make gingerbread houses,” you declared. “But we’re out of cloves. Oh, and I was hoping to find some pink candies for decorating— if they have them,” you added, your voice softening with a hint of doubt.

It was no secret that pink candies were elusive this time of year, overshadowed by the dominating reds and greens of the season. Though festive and lovely, they weren’t quite what you had in mind.

Sirius arched a brow, his lips quirking into a faintly crooked smile. “Why not just make them pink?”

You turned to him, tilting your head in curiosity. “Make them pink?”

“Yeah,” he drawled, his tone laced with the sort of lazy confidence only Sirius could pull off. “There’s gotta be a way to make ‘em pink, doll.”

His smile, faintly lopsided and utterly disarming, made warmth bloom in your chest despite the lingering cold in your fingers.

James, ever the problem solver, had already begun to drift through the aisles, scanning for a solution. Meanwhile, Remus fetched a basket with the efficiency of a man well-versed in grocery runs, returning just in time to catch you gathering flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg from the shelves.

“Powdered sugar, right, doll?” Sirius asked, holding up a box as if he’d just unearthed buried treasure.

You grinned, nodding appreciatively. But then your eyes landed on a pack of white chocolate chips, sparking an idea. “I mean... I could make it pink with food colori—”

“They’ve got Valentines candy in the back,” James interrupted, his voice triumphant as he reappeared, his hands planted firmly on his hips. He stood beaming like he’d solved a riddle no one else could crack.

“Really?!” you squealed, your face lighting up with glee.

James grinned even wider, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Yep. I’ll grab them for you.”

And just like that, your holiday vision began to take shape, piece by piece. Soon, a pink gingerbread house— complete with frosted edges and delicate decorations— would join the charming little pink tree that had claimed its spot on the living room table.

 The thought filled you with a bubbling excitement, your mind already spinning with ideas of how to make your cozy holiday corner even more magical.

It wasn’t just the decorations that made it special, though; it was the way the boys indulged your whims, no matter how outlandish they seemed.

You could already picture Sirius, half-heartedly pretending to grumble as frosting stuck to his fingers, and James concentrating far too hard on piping perfect windows while sneakily eating candies when he thought no one was looking. Remus would undoubtedly take charge of assembling the house itself, his patient hands steady as he held the walls together, teasing you all for your lack of structural integrity.

“Dove?” Remus’s voice broke through your thoughts, grounding you back in the warmth of the grocery store. His amber eyes crinkled with affection as he tilted his head. “You’re smiling like you’ve just won the lottery.”

“Maybe she has,” Sirius quipped, picking up a box of candy canes and twirling one in his fingers. “After all, we found her pink candies. What more could she ask for?”

You laughed softly, stepping closer to him and plucking the candy cane from his hand with a playful grin. “Oh, don’t tempt me. I could think of plenty more.”

“Careful, Pads,” James teased, rejoining the group with his arms full of your prized pink candy melts. “You’ll end up promising her a pink Christmas tree for the kitchen next.”

“Oh, don’t give her ideas,” Sirius groaned, but his dramatic tone couldn’t mask the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re all terrible,” you said, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you. Your arms brushed Remus’s as you added the last few ingredients to the basket, imagining the laughter and chaos that would follow once you all returned home.

Outside, snowflakes began to drift lazily from the overcast sky, blanketing the world in a soft white glow. It felt like a scene from one of those holiday movies you loved, and you couldn’t help but squeeze Remus’s hand in anticipation.

“Let’s make it quick,” he said gently, though the soft curve of his smile made it clear he wasn’t in any rush. “I think someone’s eager to get started.”

“I guess the movie theater has been pushed off the priority list,” James joked as he followed close behind, balancing bags of groceries in both hands.

“Next time, Jamie~” you sang over your shoulder, your voice light and teasing as you swung yours and Remus’s joined hands in time with the familiar Christmas tune floating from the store’s speakers. The melody seemed to follow you into the frosty morning, adding a cheerful soundtrack to your little procession.

Sirius snorted, his laughter a warm, rich sound that carried over the crisp air. “You’re such a menace when you’re in holiday mode, doll,” he teased, though his grin betrayed his fondness.

James shook his head with a mock exasperation, his lips twitching into a smile as he glanced at the lot of you. “You’re lucky we love you,” he muttered, though his tone was filled with amusement.

The four of you walked down the snowy street together, your breath hanging in the air and your steps crunching against the thin layer of powder beneath your dark pink boots.

Between Sirius’s sarcastic commentary, Remus’s steady warmth at your side, and James’s easy laughter, you could already feel the festive chaos brewing.

It was perfect.

[allthelovenina]

Don't leave(Levi Ackerman x reader)

Warning: smut, grief and spoilers of season 3, possible grammatical and dictation errors (sorry...T-T)

The days after the Shiganshina battle were nothing like the days prior, one could say the lives of the remaining scouts were divided into two parts by this major event.

Levi was no exception, except that he was perhaps too good at hiding it. Levi was a grown man, he had been a grown man for too long not because he was old but rather because he'd had to grow up too early. However, no matter how much of a great actor, a grown man or whatever people would call it he was, because his façade was out of the window the moment he was alone with her.

After the burial, a day after the battle, when all the corpses were taken back within the walls, Levi needed a break. He excused himself after the funeral and Commander Hange didn't want to bug him. Even they had changed. An unknown lady followed him, she didn't bring any attention to herself though, many civilians attended the funeral of their heroes. The 199 soldiers alongside Commander Erwin had dedicated their hearts to humanity.

He had keys, he opened the door of her house. After a while, she arrived at her house and stepped into her room, only to find the strongest soldier on her bed. His expression was similar to a crying face, although not a single tear was seen on his pale face. He had been looking down when she entered the room, her entrance snapped him out of his thoughts.

Her gaze softened. "Hello there..." she removed her black overcoat. The black dress underneath was nothing fancy, perfect for the funeral she had just attended.

He whispered. "Hello yourself." They hadn't spoken since they came back from the battle. He only had time to sleep-pass out from exhaustion- and take back the corpses of his fallen comrades after sending her a letter, explaining her exactly what had happened. She sat next to him on the bed, opened her arms silently and offered him a hug. Of course, Levi basically threw himself in her arms as she wrapped them around his body and rested her hand on the back of his head to stroke his hair.

He hid his face in her neck. "You did all you could've done yesterday, you know?" She whispered in his ear. Damn, she knew what he needed to hear all the time. "I'm very proud of you...once again, you proved why they call you humanity's strongest."

A sob escaped from his mouth, though the tears weren't streaming. Yet. "Kenny told me something..." she raised an eyebrow. Levi had only talked about Kenny once. "Everyone was a slave of something..." he continued. "I think I understand now...I'm a slave of my strength and the responsibilities that follow it."

Silently, he cried. Two tears fell from his face as her arms were tightened around him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He pulled away from her grip. "Do you think...that I made a mistake?"

"No...and I don't think you'll ever regret it either you just...need some time to process everything. Everyone does" He rubbed his temples. "I wanna rest...but I can't. There's so much I need to get done, yet..." She interrupted him. "Rest hereas much as you want, okay? I'm sure Hange wouldn't mind if you stay here for the night."

He sighs. "No...I can't leave them in this situation." She smiled, a bitter smile, one could say. "You're so kind...but I'm sure they have already called the day off due to the funeral, otherwise they wouldn't let you leave." He closed his eyes, he couldn't think of anything, he didn't 'want' to think. He just wanted to be with her, the only thing that felt certain and safe at this point was her presence, her house, and everything about her.

"Darling...what can I do to make you feel better?" She had never seen him like this since they met, which happened in the little shop next to her residence, her teashop. His eyes were puffy and red, yet his eyes barely produced any tears. Her heart sank. "What about some tea, dear? I just bought a pack, I'll buy much more for the shop if you find it worthy, after all, you are my main customer and the tea tester." She smiled.

He nodded silently. Slowly removed his boots and cloak as his lover left for tea. A few minutes later, the tea was ready, in the cups in their hands.

"It's...so good." He drinks eagerly, she thought that's probably the only drink he'd had since the battle. "Really?" He nodded. As he finished the tea, a sense of guilt washed him over. His expression, however, was never overlooked by her. She held him tightly and left pepper kisses all over him. Ghostly kisses were placed on his forehead first, then his cheeks and finally, his nose.

"Let me take care of you...I'll make you forget everything for a moment or two, okay?"

Levi remained silent, he wanted this yet in his mind he didn't deserve it. The guilt of letting go of everything for a moment never won over his desire for her.

She never waited for an answer, instead her hand rested on the back of his head, pulling him close enough as their lips met. He closed his eyes, he only wished to forget everything for a moment and relax. Soon enough, she removed the black dress, sitting on his lap, facing him almost naked. She rolled her hips on his fully clothed crotch, getting him slowly worked up.

He finally gave up and let his desire take control. His hands roamed all over her body while he buried his face in her neck, biting and sucking it red. He went for her earlobe, gently tucking it with his teeth before adding more pressure on them and leaving a bite which made her let out a breathy gasp.

One hand gripped her buttock as the other grabbed her beast harshly. He would usually be more gentle but tonight, he just needed to take the tension out and she was more than willing to help.

He pushed her on the bed and took off his pants and shirt. Then he came back to bed and sat next to her before grabbing her by the arm and pulling her close.

"Ride my thigh."

He leaned onto the headboard, watching her following his orders. She placed her knees on each side of his thigh and sat on it. She rested her hands on his shoulders for balance as she started moving on his thigh with her panties on.

As she was riding him, his hands travelled to the back of her bra, undoing it. "Don't stop. Keep going until I tell you." Thus, she didn't stop when he removed her bra and grabbed her breasts into his fists.

"Move faster." He barked as he pinched her nipples, pulling them in his direction, guiding her moves. She fastened her pace and soon enough, the fraction was too much and yet not enough. She needed more, she was growing needier. She panted. "Le...vi..."

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her. "Remove your panties." And soon enough, the last piece of clothing was gone and she was on her back, legs spread as the man's head was between her thighs.

All he wanted was to be as close as possible to her. As if he was holding on so tightly to the only pleasant thing that was left in his life.

The tip of his tongue teased her clit, his nails dug into her thighs while he was grabbing them. He ran his tongue all over her slit and then connected his lips with her core, moving as his tongue found its way in her, savouring her taste. "Fuck...don' stop, love..." he sped up. Basically, fucking her with his tongue while his hand moved to her clit, massaging it in a circular motion. As she was getting closer to the edge and her knees began to shake, Levi pulled out and took away his hand. She gasped at the ruined orgasm. Before she could protest, he grabbed her ankle and rest it on his shoulder. Taking out his cock, circling it around her hole before slipping the head in slowly.

He left wet kisses on his ankle and moved upper her calves and finally her knees. Once he let go of her leg, he grabbed her hand into his and moved further into her. His eyes never left hers. There was so much he wanted to tell her, how much he loved her, how much he appreciated her, how much she made his life better. Yet, all the words in his thoughts came out as one simple "Don't ever leave." It honestly broke her heart, how scared and scarred he was behind that tough guy façade. She moaned as he was now further inside. "Never...Captain..."

After a while, he started moving. "No. Not captain, say my name." His grip on her hands tightened as if she'd leave if he didn't hold tightly enough. "Levi...fuck...please..." His motions were slow, he wanted this moment to last, nevertheless, he enjoyed watching her being desperate for him. His hands let go of hers, instead, he wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer and moving in even further. He buried his face in her soft neck, her scent made him almost drunk as he started pacing his moves while kissing her neck. One hand moved to the back of her shoulder, pulling her even closer-if 'Closer' was possible at this point-.

His thrusts grew faster and harder while her moans grew louder. His name never dropped from her lips. He did it so easily, thrusting into her so fast like it was nothing, grabbing her breasts with one hand and biting her neck at the same time.

"Le... Levi... I'm close...ah..." Before she could finish her sentence, she cummed undone on his cock and he proudly fucked her through it even faster. He was close himself, but the gentleman he was, he'd never cum before her.

"Wanna fill you up..." he slowed down, and whispered in her ear. "Fill you up so much you won't be 'without me'." And he did fill her to the beam.

He pulled out, laid next to her all sweaty with heavy breaths.

His mind was blank, nothing except her was in his mind. All he wanted was her and she was right next to him. It was really unlikely for him to have his wishes met but at least she was alive and promised him to never leave.

"I'll...draw you the bath." He said while his hand traveled to his cheek, cupping her face.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you so much."

[fushiguwu]

enjoying your view? getou suguru

CHAPTER 3 from the Summer Fever's serie!

ft. dilf!getou and gojo’s stepdaughter!reader

warnings: use of alcohol (again,, lol), party, gojo being comic relief, reader finds someone else hot (they're just drunk), jealousy, risky making out, sweat, spit, oral sex (w receiving), breath play, soft!dom suguru but he is just really romantic, use of the names princess, baby, silly bun, love, kind of fluff and a bit crack if you squint.

words: 3.7k

a/n: hope u enjoy it :3

Lucky enough, friday night came like a blink of an eye and you had finally something to do other than mold by your mom’s pool. Gojo almost fainted after hearing you were going to his friend’s daughter's birthday party, as if he wasn’t the one who very much put you in Mimiko’s circle of friends. He, despites, seemed a bit upset for not being invited – and it perhaps was another reason why his dramatic ass almost fainted.

“It’s a young adults party, Gojo. And you are her dad’s friend. Would you want your uncle in nearly forties to get along with you and your twentie’s friends?” You try your best not to sound so rude for him to be more concerned, even though it seemed an impossible mission. Satoru was just so sentimental. “It’s not personal, Satoru. Don’t be such a brat about it”

“You are so cruel with your words, jeez! Could’ve just said I’m not the party’s target group. Now I feel bad AND old” he sits down on the couch with a hand holding his chin, looking absolutely defeated. “In your age, I was an unstoppable party monster, just because I got married doesn't mean I’ve got to become a grimace”. And then he keeps on grumbling by himself while scrolling through the tv channels. Your mom by his side could only laugh at his pityness. Poor woman. 

You’ve seized the chance to go off home and get into your uber, who’s been  parked by your sidewalk for a whole five minutes now, while you had to deal with Gojo’s attitude. You didn’t bother trying to explain the situation for the poor man working so the trip to Mimiko and Nanako’s house was filled with the city sounds outside. 

Their house were huge, and the amount of cars parked made you doubt the party’s surprise factor. The door was wide open and the music as loud as the speaker would allow. A lot of people were dancing in the living room, and it made you question the number of people they knew and how many of them were actually friends — you wouldn’t know that many people for your entire life.

The sisters were nowhere to be found through the crowd. You didn’t know where to leave the present, and the more you got inside, the harder it was to find a space with no couple making out or a young adult drinking like they had two livers. So you go upstairs, hoping to find a safe place for Mimiko's gift — a sweet gold collar with a heart pendant. You open a door to find a bathroom. The next one, an office, smelled like fresh wood and had such beautiful brown furniture. You got too distracted to notice a figure emerging closer and closer right behind you. 

“Excuse me, ma’am” you hear a low voice say next to your ears and immediately jumps out in fright. You quickly get out of the way, without looking back, say a whispered “sorry” and go downstairs as fast as your shoes allow you. Your face probably looked as red as a fresh tomato right now. The man once behind you followed your quickie path with a smirk hidden between his cheeks before getting to his office. Thinking straight after a few seconds in the crowded living room, you’ve realized you actually recognized that voice and perfume. It was his voice. It was his smell. You turn around to seek him on the second floor, but as nothing’s ever happened right in your life, someone brought you to a tight hug and got you back to orbit. 

“Can’t believe you actually came!” Mimiko looked a bit drunk already. Apparently, you missed the surprise. “Is that for me?” she says pointing to the small box in your hands. you don't say anything, just put it on her hands instead. Finally you gave an end to this poor box. She hugs you one more time and says lots of “thank you’s” kissing your cheeks before disappearing again.

You go upstairs again, this time even more anxious than the last. The bathroom was empty, so it just left you with the office: you knocked on the door, no answer. You opened it, empty too. Just the wood smell and fancy furniture. The hallway, empty. The other doors were locked. No one was supposed to go to the second floor, as it seems, and you were looking for someone that obviously wasn’t there — and at this point you doubted yourself and started believing you were frightened by a ghost. so you accept defeat and head to the kitchen to get drunk. It wasn’t him, nor anyone. 

You looked devastated holding your fifth drink sitting by the kitchen counter all by yourself. Perhaps you were too shy to be at a party, you thought. The music playing was trash, you didn't know anyone besides Mimiko and Nanako, and they were nowhere to be found in the crowd. The kitchen seemed to be the loser's spot: there were you, by the counter, alone, a man laid on the ground with a beer bottle in hands, absolutely wasted, his friend by his side trying to get him up, while their other friend threw up in the sink. What a night. 

And you know what? fuck it. You're not going to spend your night sat watching drunk men throwing up. You’re going to honour Gojo’s party rocker memory. You took a long sip from your drink and got up to the living room. Fuck the shitty music, fuck the shyness, fuck the ghost of the man you’re obsessed about. you’re going to enjoy your fucking summer break.

The improvised dancefloor was so hot you wanted to just take off your dress right there. Your hair sticking on your skin, the smell of sweat and vape smoke would have made you sick on any other occasion, but not in this state of mind. A man approached you, he’s blond, not so tall, but what truly got your attention was that he had no shirt on. You shamelessly stared at his abs. 

“Enjoying your view?” he asks you. you nod your head, still not looking at his face. “Yo. I’m up here” he slaps his fingers in front of your face to successfully get your attention.  He, then, grabs you closer enough to meet your lips to his. His hands on your waist as you closed your eyes to let him through —wishing, expecting. Suddenly, when you could finally feel his breath on your nose, he stepped back, and another pair of hands found your waistline, from behind. You opened your eyes and looked back, pissed off. But to your surprise, you are met with both black shirted chest and hair falling down the shoulders. You, then, look up, afraid to be who you thought it was.

“Suguru?” he smiles down at you. Your heart racing to see him again. It’s him, actually him. All flesh and bones — and looking absolutely stunning. “What are you doing here?” you could see him staring down at the dude you were about to kiss. He looked even more surprised. “Sorry, man, didn't know she was with someone. My bad”  he said, frightened by Suguru’s piercing stare and height, and left without looking back. You turned around to match the raven haired man’s embrace. You just looked up at him, not believing he was actually there at all.

“Enjoying your view?” He repeats the strange man’s words, and you smile openly at him. You nod again, but this time looking deeply into Suguru's eyes. He smiles too, and your heart absolutely melts. You were getting even drunker on his perfume, his voice blurring the loud music playing around. You whispered an almost inaudible “yes” to him, completely dazed by his presence and he could see it. “Why’s that everytime I meet you, you’re drunk, princess?”

“I’m not drunk!” you tried to defend yourself. He arched his eyebrows at you.“Then why were you about to kiss that tiny naked man, huh?” his voice was lower than it normally sounded like, and he seemed truly bothered about it.

“You saw him approaching me. Why didn’t you come on first, huh?” you mimic him and arch your eyebrows back. Suguru swallowed dry and looked away, his grip on you loosening.

“Because…” he looks back at you, uncertain. You could see in his eyes that something was going on. You only looked back at him, waiting for an answer. “...Because we shouldn’t do it here. I shouldn’t” he seemed sincere, for your importunity.

“And why’s that? Who says so?” You get his face in your hands, feeling the soft and almost perfectly shaved skin. “It’s a goddamn party! It’s the exact place to do so. Only if you are here with someone else…” and you loose your hands. He quickly puts them back on his face and deeps his gaze.

“No. it’s not that.” he says right after you, laughing a bit — more like a nervous laugh than anything. “It’s just that… I don’t know…” you come closer to his face, standing on tiptoe. You could see him flushing a bit, and it makes you smile.

“You know nothing.” and you kiss him, as you’ve been dreaming for weeks now. And it felt just like the first time: just right, absolutely right. You really don’t know what was making him feel so insecure, but as the kiss deepens, he seems to forget about it more and more. His hand tightens again, and one meets the back of your head, gripping the hair from your skull in a delicious tight. You moan on his lips, your eyes shut, just feeling him over your skin again. His hand on your waist goes down to your ass, squeezing it as hard as you bit his lips. It was starting to get dangerous and you knew it. “Is there… somewhere else…?” you break the kiss to ask, breathless, finally opening your eyes. His lips were red and swollen, his gaze low down at you. He looked as starvelling as you. 

Suguru doesn’t say anything, just takes your hand and leads you away from the crowd, looking all around, afraid to find Mimiko or Nanako on the way, while you had no thoughts in your head at all, absolutely clouded, just following him wherever he takes you. And it is upstairs again. You look back, feeling like breaking some rule for going to the second floor again, but the black haired man didn’t seem to care about it. He opens the door that leads to the office where you first remembered him today. “I’ve been here, and heard someone talking to me with your exact voice” you confessed to him while the door was being closed. 

You watch him coming to you slowly, the anxiety growing at each step he takes. You could feel your heart beating on your mouth. It was finally happening: you’re finally alone with Suguru. You take a step back until you bump into the office desk, a gasp coming out your lips. He meets you, taking your legs up so you could sit on the desk, a few papers and pens falling down on the floor, but neither of you seemed to care. He puts himself between your legs, pulling your dress up your hips, as his face comes closer to your ears. His delicate hands pushing your already dry hair aside. “Yes, silly bun’, ‘cause it was me”  and then kisses your neck slowly, exploring your skin and smells. How silly of you to think it was a ghost, indeed. You could feel him smile between kisses, but you were a bit concerned.

“Don’t…” you try to advise him, for you were all sweaty and sticky just now.  You move away your neck, which he didn’t seem to enjoy. “I’m dirty, Suguru.” He listened to you unpleasantly, and gripped a hand on your throat smoothly, as looked deep into your eyes. His mood suddenly shifted — he was mad at your insecurities.

“I don’t fucking care” your view became blurred. “I want you, I don’t care about a fucking sweat.” you groan to him, trying to pull your legs together, to have a little release, but his own are in the way. It doesn’t pass unnoticed for him, though, as you feel his knees tight in your panties. He never looked away, his gaze seemed to pierce your soul apart, like a devil you gladly let be corrupted by. You wanted more of him, he wanted more of you; your lusts exploding within the walls. No closeness seemed enough. 

 “Open your mouth, princess“ you do as he commands, but he wasn’t satisfied yet, “tongue out” he hards the grip once again. As you show your tongue, he comes closer to you and spits on it, making your eyes widen. “Swallow it.” you pleasurably do, his hot and transparent fluid going all the way down your throat to heat your neglected pussy. He smiles and lets go of your neck, you feel like breathing for the first time of your life again. “Felt good, right?” Suguru glances at you while you nodded at him like a trained puppy. And he kisses you, deeply, almost greedy for it. 

His kisses started to go down your chin, neck, collarbone, and when you blinked again your dress strap was in your elbows and his mouth on your chest. “You’re just so beautiful, princess. So fucking beautiful.” he squeezes your waist, with his face hidden between your tits. “I could stay here forever” He said —more for himself than for you, kissing all the way down to your bellybutton, as getting on his knees, slowly. His hands pulled your panties down and you missed him putting them in his jeans pocket. 

Suguru puts your dress up your hips and sighs at the glance of your naked pussy dripping wet for him, and only him. He really wanted to stay there for eternity: with your knees on his shoulder, his face deep between your legs and your delightful whimpers. He didn’t know why you messed so much with his head, why he got so obsessed with you since the day you first met. Why did his heart race when he saw you again opening the door for his office and it melted when you ran away. He wasn’t supposed to leave the second floor tonight, wished to let his children enjoy their party without a boring parent present. Until he saw you and, then, risked everything just to get to your embrace once more. He knew that if one of his daughters saw you two, would never forgive him. But Suguru knew, too, that you felt the exact same for him: you eagerly, abruptly wanted him close to you. Perhaps it was for your sudden separation previously to blame; the almost that never was in the bar. Your willingness grew immensely, even more for the feeling of never seeing each other again, but now that you did, surprisingly did, it needed to be barbarously released. 

“Hold my hair back, love” Suguru gets your wrist, puts it on top of his head and goes back to work. You try, between groanings and shaking hands, to lock his hair strands in a messy bun. Your grip tightens everytime his tongue pressures harder on your aching clit, and the vibrations of his moans makes your mind clouded by lust. Looking down at Suguru you could see how freaky pussy drunk he actually was: his grip on the fat of your thighs so hard you knew it’d leave a bruise or two, half of his face was wet and spittle ran down his chin. He shaked his tongue like a beast, drank on your floods as if he’s been thirsty his whole life. You felt somewhere else in between him and your pussy. He was clearly doing it because he fucking loved to, not only for yours, but for his pleasure too —and it turned you on like nothing’s ever done. 

“Sugu, please,—fuck, i’m so close, please, please…!” you whined so many ‘please’s’ for him with such a crying voice he just couldn’t stand not giving you what you wanted. He grabs your hips and gets you up from the table, making you choke. You had your elbows holding you on the table and your legs stuck on Suguru’s ears, your hips floating in the air with only his arms to hold. You were starting to actually worry about his breath, though neither did he care. 

For the first time, he distanced himself from your clit. The lack of stimulation made you look down at him breathless, helpless. He looked at you with a smirk, his face red and soaked. “You wanna cum, babe?” you nod at him greedily; his smirk grows and he mimics your nod slowly, saying a “yeah?”  

“Yeah. Ye’Please, Sug’, pleas’ make’m cum, was so close, s’close” you had no breath to speak properly but knew he could understand you. He gathered his saliva and spat right on your swollen clit, then gave your ass a spank. 

“then fucking do it, but I want you cumming looking right into my eyes, you understand, baby?” you nod and get your grip back on his hair, using it to maintain your balance. You felt a wave coming so hard from your tiptoes to your scalp; his twilight eyes looked straight into yours until your vision went blurry, and black, and sparkling, and your body shaked like never before. Mind blank, legs weak, eyes rolling back.  Suguru kept his mouth deepening your orgasm till you pushed him away, trembling, breathless. You had such a dumb face on, he couldn’t help laughing. You looked back as if asking him what was so funny. He kept his laugh and carefully helped you stand still again — though your legs were still shaking, so the raven haired man never left his grip on your waist.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby.” but he still had a smile on. “it’s just that you’ve been fucked so stupid by my tongue, I didn’t know you were going to cum so hard.” your face went red with his words. How could he be just so shameless?

“S-stop saying that! It’s embarrassing.” you cover your burning red ears to protect yourself from his filthiness — not resting long, as he takes your hands within his chest, only making you blush more for the contact with his warmth. You didn’t want to look at his face and Suguru noticed that.

“Look at me, princess. We did nothing wrong, I’m happy that I could make you happy.” he speaks so sweetly, grabs your chin so gently to get closer to your gaze, almost as coercing you to look back at him — and you do. Your cheeks burning as found by his sharp eyes. He’s just so, so gorgeous. All of him, looking back at you so tenderly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? You did a great job, little one.” his left hand stroking your hair as the right one kept your two hands still on his chest. You loose one up to stroke his silky brunette hair strands too. He smiles genuinely and kisses you, but this time, it felt way more meaningful. Suguru was, indeed, starting to feel something about you. Even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself — like, he’s seen you twice now, how could he feel something, right? Right?

“Suguru…” he left his wonders to the sound of your voice so close to his lips. 

“Yes, love?” you two kept your eyes closed.

A brief silence. A laugh.

“...Your face smells like… vagina…” and you open your eyes nearly together.

“I can’t believe you just fucking said that.”  he said, serious. You thought he was mad at you, until a loud stuck-up laugh escaped his mouth. You laughed too, — in relief. “vagina? oh, my goodness.” he was losing his shit now, holding on his knees, his strength evaporating his body. You didn’t know if kept laughing or helped him up, starting to feel a bit embarrassed again.

“Suguru, stop! But that’s it’s name!”

“I know, I know, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to say that, of all things.” Suguru cleans a tear running down his cheek and standed up again by your side. “of course it does, princess, I just ate the fuck out of your” he pauses, biting his lip not to laugh “...vagina.”  you slap his shoulder. How dare he make fun of you? Damn you, Suguru. You end up laughing with him, though. You didn’t know that side of him yet, he looked really loosened up; perhaps the alcohol in your blood has been passed to him, somehow? You took advantage of his looseness to ask something you’ve been wondering the whole night:

“So, Sugu, where do u know Mimiko from? She’s, like, waay younger than you. Are you a kind of cousin or something?” and there it is, the question Suguru was afraid of the most. He wasn’t ready for you to know about it, he didn’t wish to scare you away; just when you were getting along so nicely. The deep breath he takes after your questioning makes you feel a bit insecure he was, indeed, trying to avoid this subject.

And just when he was about to speak, his phone vibrated inside his pocket and the atmosphere suddenly changed in the room. A deadly silence as soon as he sees who’s calling him — you failed in trying to see it. Suguru murmurs a very low ‘fuck’ to the blue screen and looks back at you, as saying ‘sorry’ with such doggy eyes. You say that it is okay and he kisses your forehead fastly. “It’s from work, I really gotta go, baby. Sorry for that. You know how to go back down there, right?” you nod as he turns around to go. But something stops him just before closing the door behind you: “Please, don’t kiss any other ugly, short and stupid boy while I’m out.” you nod to him for the last time that day, looking upset. “Promise?” he was looking into your eyes, even as you looked away. He knew you were disappointed, but he wasn’t going to leave while you didn't answer him back. 

You look into his eyes from afar, “Yes, I promise, Suguru.” He gives you an honest smile before leaving. 

“Good girl.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

now i can't help but imagine engel running away from könig but being so used to this kind of thing that she just kind of... squeals? screams? like she's so giddy she just sounds like a red panda screaming lol

and then laughs when he finds her somewhere under a table or behind a door or... right behind him! he's like ">:O!!!"

and he's probably so horny and desperate but she can't stop laughing from excitement and asks him to do it once again (convinces him by saying she'll be naked this time lmao)

Yes you get it!!

It gets super goofy when she starts to enjoy it and flat out waits for König to chase her. Perhaps pinches his butt or wiggles her eyebrows at him or sticks her tongue out to tease him and make him run after her. Sometimes tests König by simply appearing naked in front of him and saying "You want some of this?~~", then jumps back when he tries to snatch or snare or grope her.

You can call it mating behavior or courtship display or foreplay or whatever but it drives König crazy that she's so into it too. Man goes absolutely nuts when he gets to chase a giggling, squealing woman around the house!

It's disgusting and childish in the Colonel's opinion, but Colonel König isn't there to scold them when they play, is he? Young recruit can do whatever he likes, and that includes running after a screaming, laughing, excited female who's probably wet by the time he catches her and starts to devour her neck.

It's always the best part when she squirms in his embrace and tells him to "Stop!" because "it tickles! " Her giggles turn into moans, so he doesn't even bother to carry her to the bed; he'll just have her here on the table... Or why not on the floor, on the Colonel's expensive, handknotted Persian rug? >:) He's reportedly a 'filthy dog' so why not act like one then?

[chiharuhashibira]

🌸𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒅'𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆🌸

𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒓𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒐, 𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒂, 𝑰𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑿 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓(𝑶𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒏)

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

A SUPER SHORT IMAGINE! (Can be turned into full fics if requested~)

You're an oiran who's having identity crises because you can't help but be drawn to this specific newcomer. Not only has she been acting strange around you—touching your hair, offering to share meals, etc.—but the gesture is so endearing that you can't help but feel flushed.

Then one day, you walked in her room and suddenly caught her... no, him red-handed.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Some are just fluffy but some also have curse words. Slightly Suggestive too maybe?

-------------------------------------------------------------------

🌸𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒓𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒐🌸

Things have changed since Sumiko, the newcomer, arrived in the house. She's just your age and undoubtedly obedient. Sumiko's also strong, and that definitely surprised you, especially when you first saw her carrying some of the baggage of your fellow oiran upstairs.

Sumiko's not the chatty type, but when you find time, you make sure that you're helping her with her chores despite all her complaints. You just can't stop observing her and being in awe of her strangeness, until one day you find yourself wondering more about her.

And one day, Sumiko just started sharing her meals with you, asking if she could help you braid your hair, clean your room, and more. She's acting more strangely towards you, but you kind of like that attention.

Your heart started beating every time she smiled, and that even led to some sleepless nights as you tried to figure out what kind of feeling you have for her.

All you know is that this is a kind of attraction. You're definitely attracted to Sumiko.

One day, you just told yourself that it was enough, and you want to tell her your feelings so that perhaps both of you can figure it out. The confusion was just a bit too much, and you felt helpless.

So then, you suddenly barged into her room, ready to tell her everything.

But as you closed the door behind you, your world suddenly stopped...

"Su—Sumi-chan?" The sight in front of you left you speechless.

Sumi-chan turned towards you, red as a tomato, as she—no, he—covered himself with his checkered kimono.

"Y—you're a man?!" You stuttered, falling down on your buttocks on the floor as your eyes widened more. You felt a heat crawl up your cheeks when Sumiko went beside you and covered your mouth with his calloused hands.

"Shhh! Please don't scream Y/N-chan."

You nodded, and he let go of you. With that, you took the opportunity to take in his real appearance. Manly hair, broad shoulders, exposed abs... You stopped yourself from looking further down. What you see is already enough to prove that Sumiko isn't a woman.

"Y—you're a man?" You asked once again in a whisper, and that made him close his eyes and bow down. "I'm so sorry! I should've told you, but I'm on a mission, and this disguise is a part of that."

"Then who are you? What are you?"

"I'm Tanjiro Kamado. And I'm so sorry if I lied to all of you."

You felt the genuineness in his tone, and that made you calm down. You bit your lip and reached for his kimono, fixing it to cover his manly torso. "I understand. I won't ask more, Kamado-san, and I promise that your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you!"

He suddenly embraced you, and that made your heart skip once again. The confusion in you seemed to subside as you finally knew that you had been attracted to a man all along. You hugged him back, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. It's comfortable.

Both of you pulled away from the embrace and looked into each other's eyes. You're definitely red as a tomato, and so is Tanjiro. He suddenly cupped your cheek and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I promise, I'll keep you safe too, Y/N."

🌸𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒂🌸

The one who's knocking at your door for the nth time is none other than Zenko. The newcomer is definitely clingy; there's no doubt about that. It doesn't bother you, though; perhaps Zenko's just too friendly.

And besides, you like the feeling that she's been giving you lately. You're sure that Zenko is also aware of that, as both of you started hanging out in your free time. We just curled up with each other on your futon, with her hands running through your hair.

Of course, no one would admit that this is over the friendliness barrier, especially when you find yourself kissing her cheek for doing great in her shamisen classes. That made her blush too hard.

You cannot comprehend why other girls consider her ugly, as you find her quite attractive. Sometimes, you just find yourself imagining that Zenko's a man in disguise, which is why she acts all lovey-dovey with you.

Actually, you're wishing for that thought to come true.

And yes, you opened the door for her today and immediately met her almost golden eyes. Blushing, you invited her to sit, and she quickly complied.

"Why are you here again, Zenko?" You asked, acting as if you were serious. But Zenko doesn't buy that; she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Are you on your period?"

She asked, and that made you redder than before. "Baka!" You threw the pillow on her face, which made her laugh. "I'm not on my period, and why do you care?" You continued, pouting at the poor girl as she sat and fixed her now messy hair.

"Eeeh, just curious Y/N-chaaaan~"

"Fine. Maybe it's you who's on her period!"

You joked, and that made Zenko laugh harder.

"How I wish! I can't because I'm a man."

She said that also shocked her. She's a he? Zenko's not a woman?

Zenko felt the sudden tension between the two of you as you remained paused in your surprised facial expression, so he suddenly took the chance to lean in and give you a little peck on your lips.

The world seemed to slow down, but then you still found yourself covering your mouth in shock at her actions. "Zenko, what the fuck?" You said this as you looked away.

He gulped and looked down, feeling guilty. That tugged at your heartstrings. You're surprised, but you're not mad at him. Perhaps there is a big reason why he hid his identity.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that. I also shouldn't have told you that."

"Why?" You asked, looking at her with concerned eyes.

"I'm Zenitsu Agatsuma. As a demon slayer, I'm on a mission, and my cover can't be blown up. I'm so sorry."

So you're right; there is a big reason. You watched as he continued to explain, telling you that he didn't want to take advantage of you. He also made it clear that he really likes you, which made you blush harder than before. Zenitsu seems to be unashamed of blurting out his feelings.

To finally make his endless blabbing stop, you just kissed him once again, longer and more passionately this time.

By the time you both pulled out of the kiss, you were both breathless. You felt your heart beating faster and faster, and all you wanted to do was embrace this man. "Zenko—I mean, Zenitsu... I like you too, and your secret's safe with me."

And with that, Zenitsu pulled you into an embrace, mumbling I love you's and telling you that if he goes out of this mission alive, he'll marry you. It's the normal Zenko you knew, but now your wish has been fulfilled.

🌸𝑰𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒂🌸

And you found yourself pinned under Inoko, one of the most stunning oirans you'd ever laid eyes on.

It was just simple admiration at first, but it quickly turned to confusion. All you wanted to do before was look at Inoko's angelic face and watch her careful motions. But then, it all changed when Inoko helped you up when you almost fell down the stairs, giving you a big smile before running away to wherever she was heading.

The world stopped as both of your eyes met, green orbs melting with Y/N's (eyecolor) ones.

You swear that you heard her chuckle, and that isn't a woman's voice... At first, it scared you. Is Inoko a demon? But then, as the smartest oiran in the House, you realised that perhaps, she's a man in disguise.

All the nights and days after that, you were wondering so hard that you didn't realise you'd been more than curious about Inoko's real identity. You wanted to know her or him more. If she or he's really a man, then perhaps you'll have a chance?

You blushed at the thought and tried to get rid of it, but whenever Inoko passed by, you always found yourself looking at her too much with a blush on your cheek.

You can't believe that this beautiful woman might be a girl, but that is how it is if that happens.

And so one day, you had just finished taking a bath when you met her inside your room. Inoko seems to be stressed and looking for something, and that bothered you.

"Why are you here?"

You know that she won't answer. Aside from her seemingly manly chuckle, you have never heard her voice. Inoko flinched at your sudden appearance, and as if by instinct, she pinned you on the floor.

You looked at her with wide eyes as you felt your towel slide down from your body.

"Oh fuck."

That's the first time that you heard Inoko's voice, and yes, it's definitely not from a woman!

You bit your lip, anxious as his eyes stared at you. He seemed to blink in confusion at first, then turn red, and you realised why—you're open and bare under him!

He immediately let you go, and you covered your body quickly, asking him what a man like him was doing inside this place. Disguised as an oiran!

He rolled his eyes and grunted. "Fuck, you should be quiet (wrong pronunciation) Y/N! Don't tell a soul or else—"

"Or else what? Who are you?" You asked, feeling your heartbeat go fast as Inoko crawled towards you like an animal.

"Or else I'll make you forget! I'm Inosuke Hashibira and I need to finish finding the demon before Monjiro finds it first!"

"Wha—what demon?!"

"Fuck shhh!" You bit your lip once again as Inoko started to panic. So, he's a man, and he's on a mission that involves finding a demon? It's all too much.

You felt a cold shiver with the information and started panicking too. But then, it seems like Inoko noticed you were scared, and so he went towards you and spoke in a low and calmer tone of voice. "I think I need to do the thing that I saw last night with you."

"Wha—" You wanted to complain. You even wanted to know what he meant when he said it last night.

But before you could do any of those things, Inosuke planted his lips on yours, making your heart stop for a moment.

And as if by muscle memory, you kissed back, making him groan against your lips. After a few more breathless seconds, you both pulled out, red and panting.

"What just happened?"

You asked him, and that made him smile with triumph. "I knew that would work!" He said, making you redder. "What works?" You asked, curious about what he was referring to, as you pulled up the towel to cover you better.

"You forgot about what I said! Last night, I saw a man and a woman do that thing by the hallway, and the woman said that what they did made her forget that they were in public. So, I suppose if I do that with you, you'll forget what I said too!"

You blushed at how innocent Inosuke is. From the time he saved you from tumbling down the stairs, he never knew that he would make you really fall for him. You smiled and decided to just go along with what he was saying.

Perhaps there's really a demon roaming around, and maybe Inosuke will protect you from it, so you'll just help him by keeping his secret.

"Oh yes! Um, Inoko, what are you doing here?"

With a smile on his face, he went out of your room. You took a deep breath and watched as Inosuke walked away. Aside from keeping his secret, you'll also need to keep him from kissing another person to make them forget.

_______________________________________________________

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒕!

Thank you for reading my first KNY Imagine~ Hope you enjoyed it! Told you, it's just short but I might take on longer fics soon!

Looking forward to write more for all of you~

Feel free to comment and reblog UwU Also, send you suggestions/requests!

I'll be happy to write em!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

[biwitchenergyz]

A House of Blood and Fire

Chapter One: The Heirs of the Dragon

<-Teaser Next Chapter->

In the future, many years from now, when you await the gods of old Valyria or even the Stranger (hopefully on your deathbed), you may look back on the choices you have made and wonder where you went wrong. Perhaps your death will be less peaceful, perhaps it will be bloody, but you hope that whatever gods watched over you were not the merciless ones Queen Alicent Hightower often wept too.

The world is silent, your room is quiet, and you know the sun will shine soon. Not that the sun has ever done anything good for you. Most people fear the dark but forget all the snakes who love to bask in the sun's light. You often find yourself surrounded by those very snakes, but now, sitting alone in your chambers on Dragonstone, you wonder if the sun purposefully evades the gloomy island. Your lady's smooth voice accompanies the squeak of your door opening.

"Darling girl, I hoped we could talk before our departure." Princess Rhaenyra hardly asked for company; she was surrounded by people at all times, whether that be her children, her lovers, or her court. When she wanted to speak with someone, it was an honor that few could refuse. She moves to sit beside you. Her nightgown is sheer and delicate, with its lacey decorations pooling at her feet as she lifts them onto your bed.

"I was worried that this trip may take a toll on you," Rhaenyra whispers when she is finally sitting at your side, "If you want to stay back, I am sure my father would understand." The silence speaks for itself when Rhaenyra finally hears the irony of her words.

When has Viserys ever been understanding of you? Though the two of you were cousins, his age made him dismissive and ignorant of your plight as a young woman, while his gender gave him a sense of superiority that oozed from his every word. Rhaenyra was lucky to be his eldest daughter because she alone was immune to his cruelty.

"Viserys has been asking me to return, and now he demands it. Even you cannot protect me from that." The older woman's eyes soften at your cynical words. Your arrival at court was, unfortunately, amidst a troubling time for House Targaryen. The Princess and the Queen were constantly at odds, and it seemed that their children were following in their footsteps. With the court jester banished and the king's mood souring, you made for a perfect scapegoat. Had your mother, Saera, been living, she would never have allowed your humiliation. But she was gone, and her reputation fell like an anchor on your head.

"For the past four years, I have found any excuse to keep us on Dragonstone. First, it was my pregnancies, then Daemon’s injury, and Luke’s sickness. I am sorry that my father was not kind to you. However, he has grown ill, and his mind has been sullied with milk of the poppy. All my father wants is to see his family again. We have missed four of his birthdays, and I fear there may not be another. We will leave at dawn." Rhaenyra left no room for argument, so you let the discussion drop. Your mind returns to the reason you must sail for the Red Keep.

"The boat ride will take longer than Dragonback. I may miss dinner entirely." You warn Rhaenyra as she prepares to leave your bed chamber. She turns then, the realms delight, with the brightest smile you had ever seen as she laughed, "There is more than enough room for you on Syrax." Then she left as the sun seeped in through your windows.

• • • • • • •

In the end, you refuse to ride on Dragonback. You have declined it during all the years you have lived in Westeros. The boat ride is hardly uncomfortable, but as you watch Syrax's daisy-colored form fly over you, you wonder about the freedom you miss. Occasionally, the Velaryon boys will fly their dragons down closer toward the water, and your boat shakes at the power of their dragons' flapping wings. Even young dragons have that power. During the journey, Rhaenyra and her family split from you as they head towards King's Landing, and for a while, you are left with only yourself and the Princesses' other ladies as company. "Sit down, Princess. Join us in crafting our favors. You will become seasick if you stand so much." Elinda Massey lectures as you stand staring out the window of the old ship.

Elinda, with her dark hair and darker eyes, never fails to worry. She awoke in the morning with worries, and every night; she went to sleep worrying about how much Rhaenyra and her children ate at dinner and whether or not they would be starving. Her worries for the royal family also extend to you; even the old king's exiled granddaughter was worth her many troubles. Despite being your age and both of you being the youngest of Rhaenyra’s ladies, Elinda had a pious nature that led to her acting as a mother for the other girls, yourself included.

"Lady Massey, I can assure you I will be fine standing. The ship should dock soon anyway." Elinda frowned at your response, but she knew better than to argue with you when your mind was made.

You hurry to the deck of the ship, hoping to see King's Landing in all its glory, when your eye is caught by the enormous shadow that hovers above your boat. A dragon, as dark as an emerald and as giant as the Dragonpit, flies above you with a slow flap of its wings. Vhagar, you think you knew that dragon by heart and the old beast had not changed in the years since you left. Her rider may not be on her back, but you feel like he is for a second, his eyes piercing you from a place hidden from your view. Myranda Strong, with her twin Alyssa, approaches you from behind.

"Lady Massey is talking to the captain. The princess will send us a carriage, but we will still need someone to bring our luggage." Myranda tells you as her eyes also lift to watch Vhagar. Alyssa ignores the dragon, focused on the men preparing to moor the ship.

True to her word, Rhaenyra has sent a carriage for the four of you. It is grander than most carriages but still simple enough in its design to reflect your status as ladies-in-waiting. Inside the carriage, you bump into Alyssa at every dip in the road, but she merely smiles. "The men of the Red Keep will be a great exchange for those in DragonStone. New faces are just the change I need." She laughs with you as you agree to her lust-filled words. "It is the eldest prince that I am most excited to see. The rumors say that were he not a prince; he would certainly be the lover of a Lysinian mistress, or worse, a madame." You go silent at her words, but Elinda quiets the other girl.

"I can assure you we will not be anywhere near the drunkard prince." Her words are brusque, and they silence Alyssa for the rest of the ride. The silence is deafening until the other strong girl finds her voice. "Where is Saagael, my princess?" Myranda asks you even though her dark eyes are locked on her sister. You cannot stop your smile at the mention of your beloved pet. "He will be brought with our luggage. I had to cage him for the journey so the Hand would not know his presence. Saagael is not supposed to be here." You whisper the words with delight as you discuss how you have snuck your cat into King's Landing. Your company finds humor in this, but the rest of the ride is silent until the carriage doors open, and Rhaenyra takes your hand to help you step safely onto the dirt.

"My Princess! You did not need to come get us." Lady Massey exclaims in delight as Rhaenyra helps her down as well. "I thought that at least the four of you should receive a warm welcome. It seems that courtesy is not felt amongst the court." Rhaenyra sneers before she links your arms and leads you through the halls of the red keep. In the light of the setting sun, the halls look more burgundy than the bright red they are known for. Rhaenyra is silent as you both walk arm-in-arm through the bustling castle.

Servants, nobles, and knights alike stop to stare at the Heir and the formerly exiled princess. It has been many years since the Realm's Delight has been home. They watch her with curious glances, trying to dissect this new woman who walks amongst them. Has the Realm's delight turned cruel, or does she remain the sweet girl beloved by all? You can see the hesitance in their eyes as they bow to her passing figure. Rhaenyra, for the most part, ignores all the attention as she begins to tell you what has transpired today.

"A meager servant was sent to greet us. Our first homecoming in five years and we are treated like mere ambassadors. However, I believe that even ambassadors are treated better. I expected to see my father upon my return, but the king is not currently receiving company. Otto Hightower has practically barred the doors to my father's chambers. " The princess can't help but ramble. It is something she often does in your company for whatever reason. You think it is because, despite her estrangement from her siblings, she craves a relationship of equals rather than one of husband and wife or mother and child. She has always been alone in ways her sons and husband never have. The thought tugs at your heartstrings, and your grip on her arm tightens. "I am sure he will be at the tourney. It is in his name, is it not?" You try to ease her stress, but when it is time for you to go to your chambers, Rhaenyra keeps her hold on you.

"Will you stay with me? Your support would make this whole thing feel easier." Silence fills the halls outside of your chamber. Her Majesty, Queen Alicent, chose the room assigned to you. It is within a forgotten tower just behind the Royal sept, the only chamber completely secluded. Unlike the towers that occupy the hand and the royal guard, which all contain more than one room, your tower has only one other room relatively distant from your chambers. The royal library is at the end of the hall and one must pass your rooms to get there. Thus, for the most part, your halls are silent. Rhaenyra uses this silence to talk freely, so you do the same.

"My Princess, the children of Her Majesty will also be in attendance. I hardly think I will be any help when I am already so anxious to see them. I haven't been here since Helaena disappeared." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit inherited from your mother, Saera. Rhaenyra watches you look away from her gaze while shuffling uncomfortably back and forth. Aegon and Aemond Targaryen were your friends once, more Aegon than Aemond. But the night Helaena vanished, many incidents occurred that forced you to flee for DragonStone. Not only had Alicent suspected you of helping Helaena escape, but so did her two oldest sons, and when you left, never to return until now, they grew to resent you. That's what you thought, although you never had any clear evidence besides the heated conversation that night four years ago.

"Darling, I want you there, but I will not beg," Rhaenyra stated plainly. Her royal demeanor inspired you to lift your eyes. Her violet eyes gleamed with a reserved strength that she took no measures to conceal. "I will go." You decided.

• • • • • • •

The tourney was to begin in less than an hour, but first, you wanted to make sure your pet was settling into your chambers. Saagael paced back and forth, his body more extensive than a house cat, as dark as a moonless night sky, and his paws hit the floor like an elephant on the march. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.” You try to reason with the cat, but he will hear nothing of it. He turns to leap onto your chair, making it seem like a doll’s chair with his big body taking over the furniture. His paws knead into the soft fabric, but he does not rip it. You knew the risk of returning him to the red keep would be significant, but you reasoned that he would be safer with you than left alone on Dragonstone. At least here, you could watch him and protect him. The thought of losing your beloved companion was one of the many fears that kept you up at night. Saagael was all you had left of home and your parents; without him, you would be truly lost. Even in moments like this, when his attitude was at its height, you took comfort in his presence.

“Fine. I will bring you a whole salmon from the kitchen! All you have to do is stay here and be good.” You pleaded with the grumpy cat. Saagael’s ears perked up at the mention of his favorite treat. Finally, he left his chair to curl up at your feet. You scratched his neck, making him purr contentedly. With a few more pets, you got up to leave him. As you opened your door, you jumped back in shock at the sight of Alicent Hightower standing outside. Her delicate hand was raised as if she was going to knock upon your door. The both of you seemed startled by the presence of the other, but neither of you spoke for a moment.

Alicent breaks the silence, “You have grown quite a lot in these years.” Her voice is gentle but still royal, showing her hesitance to appear as anything but regal in front of you. “Please do come in, your majesty!” You stumble over yourself to bow appropriately in the older woman's presence. Alicent walks in, taking in the room to find it, the same as when she first had it decorated for you.

Saagael is perched on the bed with no interest in moving, but Alicent strokes his fur, and he suddenly sits up and is very interested in the queen. “Is there a purpose to your visit, my queen?” Slowly, your feet move to the Queen's side while watching her admire your beloved Saagael. “My father hates this cat.” The queen muses instead of answering your question. The room falls to silence again until Alicent finally speaks. “I have been begging Viserys to bring you back home, and finally, you are here. I came to apologize to you, dear girl. When my daughter…left…I placed my blame onto you when you have been nothing but loyal to me and my children since you arrived at the Red Keep. I hope you can forgive me.” She turns to you, and you see the young woman you grew up with, who took you in along with Rhaenyra when you needed guidance.

Her big brown eyes glisten with unshed tears, but over time, you realize that Alicent's eyes are always sad. With a boldness you didn't realize you had, you step forward to grasp the Queen’s hands. “All is forgiven, Your Majesty.” Alicent smiles as she rubs her hand over your own, pausing at the rough skin around your fingernails. It is inflamed from being picked at, and Alicent notices it instantly. Gently, she touches your skin before looking back into your eyes.

“My sons, they have missed you greatly. I know they will be glad to see you. Please forgive them of their standoffish nature.” You nod at her words, knowing you have missed her sons just as much as Helaena. A bell chimes from the royal sept, and its echo fills your quiet room. Alicent responds instantly, dropping your hands and heading to the door before turning and saying, “The king wants his entire family at dinner after the tourney. I hope that you come.” She leaves the room with urgency, and for a fleeting moment, you feel like a twelve-year-old again, spending the winter in the Red Keep playing with Helaena and Aegon while a silent Aemond watches on in Amusement as Alicent gently scolds you and Aegon for roughhousing.

Jace and Luke are the ones who come to escort you to the King’s birthday tourney. You link arms with Jacaerys while Luke fiddles with the ring on his finger. It is a matching one Rhaenyra gave him for his tenth name day, valyrian steel with a single onyx crystal in the middle of the circlet. You all walk in silence, having nothing to say to each other. When you reach the doors that lead into the courtyard, you stop to turn to Luke, who is beginning to look faint. “Luke, you look as though you have seen a ghost. What troubles you?” You rest your hand over his own to stop his fidgeting. Luke smiles at you even though his eyebrows furrow in thought. Jace keeps his hand on your arm but uses his other hand to pat Luke’s back. Then Luke looks up at you with a strange determination on his face. “Are you on our side?” You drop his hands in shock. With a quick glance around, you see that nobody is in the halls besides two guards who stand watch at the doors to the courtyard. You gather the skirts of your dress and bend slightly to come face to face with Luke.

“Little Luke Velaryon, what are you talking about?” The words come out as a whisper, unnoticed by the guards, but Jace and Luke hear them loud and clear, and they do not back down. “Our uncles call us bastards. The whispers of the court say that it is Aegon who should be our grandsire’s heir. Do you stand with us or with them?”

Luke is bolder than Jace. He always has been. Unlike Jacaerys, who strives to be the perfect dignified gentle-lord, Luke is proud like the Velaryons and does not hold his tongue.

“I am my mother's daughter; Saera Targaryen would see no value in such disagreements. I do not wish to fuel a fire that is already roaring. The politics of Westeros are still strange to me, but my position here is not. I have no right to say what should happen to the iron throne, but I assure you that I love you and your mother very much. That is all I can say.” Luke nods, his youthful face looking mature for the first time. He seems as if he will argue, but he holds his tongue because of a lack of response. Jace takes your arm in his again, and as you wait for Rhaenyra and Daemon to join the three of you, Jace talks to you in whispers.

“Even you must feel the division of the court.” He shows no signs of discontent, but Lucereys is still mulling over your response. “Trust that I feel the division like a knife in my back.” Your stare rises to meet his eyes. For a moment, he is silent, but his eyes are loud enough. The conversation ends there as Rhaenyra and Daemon approach to lead the family to their carriages. You watch the doors open but stop before crossing them; Jace pulls you through.

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