#since venom’s story was done

[isthemedia]

Precious baby boy! Precious baby boy!! Sad his trailer is delayed but Precious baby boy!!! He’s so close!!

[rayraelleaizawa]

They're going hard on you

TW: none i think

gn!reader

Short stories of when OP men go hard on you out of worry

Characters: Shanks, Trafalgar Law

Shanks

You sat in the captains office and looked at Shanks who was unusally quiet. You had an anxious feeling in your guts. You knew you had fucked up, but you didnt think he would be that mad.

The red hair pirates docked at some uninhabited island, and you were assigned to not leave the ship since Shanks wasnt sure how dangerous the island would be. But when you saw a strange animal falling from a tree and into a river, trying desperately not to drown and reach the shore again but couldnt make it, you left the ship and jumped into the river and helped the animal out of there. The scared animal didnt realice you only wanted to help him, and trashed around in your grip and scratched and bit you.

When Shanks and a part of his crew came back from exploring the island, and he saw that you were standing on deck, soaked from head to toe and trying to clean up your bloody injuries, his usually carefree face fell. He wore an unreadable expression as he told you to come into his cabin when Hongo was done treating your wounds.

Now, half an hour later and bandaged up, you sat in Shanks office and looked at your lap. He still had that unreadable expression on his face and you werent sure in what kind of trouble you were right now. You had breaken the rules before, nothing too bad, but he never acted like that because of you. You thought that he'd understand why you left, everyone knew that you had a soft spot for animals.

You anxiously waited for him to start talking, but he didnt even look at you. After another silent ten minutes, he finally said something.

"What did Hongo say?"

"He said that it is nothing too bad, just some scratches. I need to go check up regulary tho in case of infection and if I feel weird I am supposed to go to him instantly. Hongo checks the books right now if the animal that bit me is poisenous or not."

You gladly would have left out the last part, but you knew you shouldnt do that right now. He would talk with Hongo and find out anyway.

There was another short silence before he spoke again.

"What did I tell you to do? No, what did I order you to do?"

"To stay on the ship" you quietly said.

"And what did you do?"

"I...left the ship."

"You disobeyed my orders. That's what you did. No matter what relationship we two have, I am your captain and you have to follow my orders like everyone else on this ship."

You were quiet for some time. You didnt mean to disappoint him, but you didnt think about his orders when you saw that helpless animal fighting for its life.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to help the-"

"I dont care what you wanted to do. You had clear orders. Orders, which were meant to protect you. Protect you from exactly those animals that hurt you. We have no idea if they are venomous, or aggresive, or a religious species for any natives that live here."

You stayed silent. The uneasy feeling in your stomach growing by the second. Sadness and fear joined that feeling too. You thought he'd understand you, but in the end you just disrespected him infront of his crew with ignoring his orders.

"I'm sorry for messing up" was all you could get out in that moment, and you heard Shanks sigh. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to you.

"What am I supposed to do with you? Even when i try to protect you you still seem to find a way to end up in Hongos medical office. Why cant you just listen to me?"

His tone was softer than before, and you finally dared to look up at him. He had a worried expression on his face.

"I- I didnt think in that moment" you admitted as he bend his tall frame down to you, looking at your bandaged hand where that animal bit you.

"You have no idea how it felt to see you all bloody on deck. How it feels to know that you could die if that animal was highly venomous" he said, gently touching your arm.

You avoided his eyes and looked at the stump of his left arm.

"Yes I do know how that feels. I didnt want to make you experience this too. I'm sorry."

He sighed again, moving his hand under your chin and forced you gently to look him in the face.

"Never do that again. I love you too much for that."

Trafalgar D Water Law

You didn't look at him as he walked past you. You both ignored each other since the argument you had. You felt frustrated and angry at him, but mostly because he was right.

There was an emergency at the submarine, something about the boiler malfunctioning in the middle of the night. You were the closest to it so you tried to fix it, but you werent an engineer - you weren't sure what to do so you just improvised and tried your best until the persons who knew what to do came. Before that happened, hot water splashed onto your arm leaving a nasty burn on it.

Law had bandaged you up, but you noticed something wasn't right with him so you asked him. Which resulted in a heated argument between you two which ended with him snapping at you.

"If you have no idea of something then why do you even try? You're no help here, we just have more work now because of you."

Your eyes got teary when you thought back to his words, but it hurts even more knowing he was right. He had more work because he had to bandage you up, while your crewmembers probably had to fix the boiler more because you damaged it even more with your improvised actions.

You self doubted your worth on this crew now. Sure, you knew how to fight, but that was it. You could bandage up small injuries and cook, but in the end everyone knew how to do that. You had no specialty like the others.

With frustration bubbling up inside you that your captain and lover thought of you as an useless inconvinience, you started working even more. You didn't take a break, you just cleaned the Polar Tank or trained. The burn on your arm hurt most of the time, but you didn't care. You wanted to prove yourself that you weren't just on this crew because you and the Captain were dating.

You asked Shachi if he could explain to you how the boiler and stuff worked. He was perplexed as why you wanted to know that, but you convinced him with saying that next time an emergency happend you could actually help. He agreed, tho he knew that Law wouldn't be so happy about you working when you're already injured.

He explained stuff to you in the engine room and of course, no other than Trafalgar D. Water Law walked in on you two while you were trying to name some parts of the enginge. He looked displeased and coldly said your name and then just walked off.

You didn't want to follow him, but knew that he would be even more pissed if you ignored him. He led you two to the infirmary and told you to sit on the exam table. He then grabbed your hand and unwrapped your bandanges.

"What do you think you're doing, y/n-ya?" he spoke calmly, but you immediately noticed that he was holding back.

"Learning new stuff so next time i can actually help" you answered in a snippy tone.

"You won't do anything next time. I don't allow you to" he said while turning around.

You started to argue back that you just tried to be a help when he interupted you mid-sentence.

"How do you want to be of help when you cant even look after your own wound!"

"You were the one who told me I wasnt capable of anything, and now it's wrong when i try to become usefull!" you almost yelled back, tears of frustration and hurt in your voice.

"I never said you weren't capable of anything, I simply stated that-"

"You said I am no help, that I have no idea what I'm doing and that you all have more work because of me!"

A tear rolled down your face and you started shaking slightly as Law looked at you with widend eyes. He grabbed his hat and pulled it over his eyes as he looked down.

"That wasn't what I meant. I just...you got hurt on my submarine while I was present. I- you shouldn't have gotten hurt when I'm there to protect you."

You looked at him with wide eyes, the tears now streaming down your face.

"You are more than capable of sorting stuff out on your own, you are a big help to everyone on this crew. I didn't mean to insult you or tell you you aren't worthy to be here. It's just...this could have ended up bad. And now I see you working in there again. I can't have you getting injured when I'm just a few feet away" he added as he walked towards you and grabbed your face so you'd look him in the eye.

"I want you to be safe, y/n-ya. And i failed to do that. You and this crew, you're everything I have. I'm a doctor but I can't heal everything. I'm sorry for insulting you, my heart."

Your eyes softend at the last nickname he called you. It wasn't often that he used it, which made it even more special when he did. He is a big softy and constantly worried about you. You laid your head to his chest and murmured an apology, while he leaned down and kissed your hair.

[myrtlebranch1019]

My Thoughts on Solas in *Dragon Age: The Veilguard* (DATV)

It’s been about a month since I played Dragon Age: The Veilguard and I finally feel ready to talk about Solas. Yes, *that* Solas—the one who’s sparked endless debates in the Dragon Age fandom for over a decade, inspiring some of the most fascinating character analyses I’ve ever read. Unfortunately, the Solas we get in DATV feels like a shadow of his former self. Instead of the nuanced and controversial figure we know, he’s been reduced to a one-dimensional scapegoat with inconsistent writing that just didn’t do him justice.

Solas has always been such a compelling character—complex, flawed, and full of contradictions. But in DATV, the trickster archetype, he represented, was so poorly handled that I sometimes wondered if the characters in the game and I were even getting the same information. Take the moments when we uncover Solas’ memories: the reactions from other characters came across as weirdly more venomous toward Solas than even Elgar’nan, who was a literal tyrant. It felt like (some of?) the writers were trying to strip away any sympathy for Solas, but if anything, it had the opposite effect, if we judge from the percentage of people who chose to redeem him. (Pro tip for game writers: players don’t like being told how to feel about a character!)

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to excuse Solas’ actions. He’s done some truly awful things. But reducing his complexity to make him easier to blame? That’s not it. What made Solas fascinating wasn’t just his lies, treachery or rebellion but his wisdom and the fact that he cared too much. Even when he convinced himself the people of modern Thedas weren’t “real,” he still supported acts of kindness and mourned unnecessary loss. That sentimentality made him sympathetic, even while he was pursuing some pretty despicable goals. It’s that balance—the caring, sentimental dreamer weighed down by his own ruthlessness —that made Solas the perfect trickster figure and harbinger of change.

That’s why some of the decisions in DATV just didn’t sit right with me. Solas has always been willing to sacrifice others for his ideals, but that includes himself—*especially* himself. Din’an Shiral, anyone? The reveal about Varric should have been this devastating, mind-blowing moment, but instead, it felt cheap. Solas manipulating Rook by hiding Varric’s death? Totally in character. But actively using blood magic to control their mind? That felt like a shortcut, and a boring one at that. Especially, after those heated debates he had with the Iron Bull in Inquisition about how important freedom of thought is for him.

This was such a missed opportunity to dive into heavier themes like the manifestation of regret and grief—both of which would’ve made Rook more tragic and relatable. What I wanted to see from Solas, was a tragic hero who’d fought for so long he ended up becoming the villain. Not unlike his mortal enemy Elgar’Nan. What I got instead was a caricature of the trickster archetype, stripped of all the depth we saw in Trespasser.

Another thing that bugged me was how DATV framed Solas’ rebellion. The in-game conversations by the Veilguard team seem to suggest that he started it out of spite toward Mythal and/or Elgar’nan, which just isn’t true. Solas rebelled because he believed—to be more precise convinced himself—that the Evanuris were waging war on the Titans in the name of freedom. And realising that this wasn’t the actual motive was his first attempt to “fix” his mistakes. In other words the part he played in the war, and at the same time protect his people from tyrany the worst of fates in his eyes. That’s such a crucial part of his story, and seeing it misinterpreted by the cast, felt like such a disservice to the complexity of the character.

That’s not to say everything about Solas in DATV was bad. The dialogue was exquisite and stood out as classic Solas, especially when it came to the contrast between his wisdom and cunning or the need to offer guidance vs the manipulation (props to Trick for really nailing those moments). The animations were incredible, too, and perfectly captured his aura. And, of course, Gareth David-Lloyd absolutely killed it as Solas. His performance brought so much life to the character, even when during the moments when the writing fell short.

Still, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Solas has always been my favorite DA character, and seeing him reduced like this was frustrating. He’s a character built on contradictions—sentimental but ruthless, idealistic but pragmatic, sympathetic yet maddening. DATV had the chance to explore all of that and take him to new depths, but instead, it just… didn’t. And as a fan who’s loved his journey for years, that’s hard to swallow. Needless to say I would still devour any novel or media about him, because I’m definitely left wanting more from his story.

[hedwig221b]

Hi 💕 I love your writing so much - especially the dark and creepy and twisted!

Do you have any Dark Derek/Stiles recs?

I am over a month late answering this, but sure! I love dark sterek with my soul!

The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.” This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real. The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent. Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person. He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it. No one knows this case like Stiles does. In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

Three Little Words by Chloepioneer

“Oh god,” he whines, slapping a hand over his mouth to quell the vomit that boils the back of his throat. “Derek, is that the mailman?” or Derek has a bad habit of killing people that take an interest in Stiles. Stiles might like it a little bit.

I am not sorry, it is a lie by LunarLacrimosa

There's old stories. Dark tales of forced love and forced turnings. Of sexual copulation that would almost guarantee a human turning; the bite had a risk of being denied because a human was rejecting what was happening to them. Usually the human had no idea that they could reject anything with copulation—if it happened to be forced there was the rejection of the act itself, but not of the change. “I didn't know.” Stiles raises his gaze to meet Derek's own, honey brown eyes resigned but not betrayed. “I'm sorry,” and he supposes he should be grateful that Stiles couldn't pick up the tick in his heartbeat that would give him away just yet. “I know this isn't what you wanted.”

A brand new game by Nival_Vixen

The nogitsune never really left, but Stiles hasn't stopped trying to control the monster in his head, even if he wakes up screaming most mornings. Even when he's managed to control the nogitsune and his power, Deaton and Scott still bind and restrict him. For the next three years, Stiles plays along with their game until he decides that he's ready to play his winning hand.

Alpha by Nival_Vixen

Stiles has been kidnapped by a serial killer known only as Alpha. Stiles finds himself far too attracted to the man that's probably going to kill him.

No one called, until someone did. by queen_of_OTPs

Stiles found that he hadn’t spoken more than necessary since August. Gone were the rambling rants, extravagant gestures, and range of vocal tones. Monotone sentences that were cut with sharp edges, words like knives and tone like venom. No one had called.

Sights by dontleaveportland

“Stiles!” John’s booming voice cut in through Stiles’s clouded mind, "What have you done?!” Stiles looked up, finally seeing the scene before him. Braeden beneath him. The blood soaked field. All Hell broke loose in what seemed like seconds, the ground’s vibrations intensified, the screaming voices multiplied. Finally, an alpha’s roar broke the clamor. Stiles sank back to the ground, into the deafening silence. Or that time Derek sought a mate by village competition.

Whatever He Wants, Part Two by GentlyWithAChainsaw

Stiles just adores being Derek's new omega.

the feral wind that lit him ablaze by quackquackcey

"If you don't stop me right now," said Derek, whispers of threatening promise curling around his words, "you’ll never escape my clutches." Claws grazed along the sides of Stiles' neck and Stiles shivered with a moan. His eyes met scarlet ones, filled with the primordial power, deadly and feral, and his core shook. A soft laugh. "Too late," he breathed. ——— FBI agent Stiles goes undercover in Eichen House and ends up with only the most dangerous captive as his cellmate, the serial mass murderer Derek Hale. However, neither his case nor Derek are as they seem, and as the mysteries unravel, so do the secrets of his past that haunt him. Will he burn down alone in the fire around him, or will he burn down with Derek in the fire they spark? 🐺❤️‍🔥

Got My Eyes on You by Endellion

Stiles moves into town and Derek wants him.

Sex and Violence by halcyon1993

Derek is a feared mafia boss. Stiles gets turned on watching him work.

Might be a Predator by churkey

Derek's mom once told him they were predators. It never occurred to him to ask, 'If werewolves are predators, what do we hunt?'.

The Spoils of War by halcyon1993

Alpha Derek is a commander in the Roman Army, tasked with pillaging settlements to claim them for his own people. When he comes across a pretty young Omega during his latest conquest, he can't resist taking him as his personal prize.

Killer wolf by TheBeastsWrite

"They’d all but fallen into his apartment, a tangle of limbs and hot kisses, wet lips swollen and crushing together, clashing again and again until the teen was whimpering in delight. It wasn’t until he was pulling the shirt over the teens head that he had gasped out a desperate “I know it was you.”" Derek is a serial killer, Stiles know's he'll understand.

is this a dream (or is it my lesson?) by Melpomene (Aconitehart)

"I can save you from this," Derek says. As he kneels down in front of Stiles, colour returns to the faded water. It spreads, slowly, up the creek bed and towards the forest. Life returning. "I don't -" Derek cups his cheek, and warmth blooms from that simple contact, chasing away the icy cold within him. "All you have to do is say yes." He opens his mouth to refuse, but Derek leans in suddenly. Their noses brush and Stiles' eyes flutter closed. He can't help but tip his chin up, begging for something he's never had before. "Derek," he whispers, longing burning within him as their lips touch. "Humans are like moths," Derek murmurs. "Always chasing after the lights in the forest. You want to be hunted, deep down. You want this." In which Derek is a forest god determined to make Stiles his.

Perception by DiscontentedWinter

Peter Hale's client is a murderous sociopath. The best thing Peter can do is get him committed to Eichen House, where he'll never see daylight again. He thinks.

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | alive Hales | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | spanking | royal abo au | oblivious!Stiles | longfic | void!Stiles

[nomie-11]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

masterlist! | read part 2 here!

synopsis: when vi betrays you in favor of caitlyn, all she can say is 'i love you, i'm sorry,' before watching as she tears your heart from your chest and grinds it into the dirt

pairings: vi x reader

“Really, Vi?” You practically spat, face to face with a girl you thought you knew. “You’re running with the enforcers now? Since when were you a bluebelly?”

The grimace on her face was set in firm lines, hard and unyielding and so unlike the Vi you once knew. This was her—same powder blue eyes, same fiery pink hair, same cheekbones, same lip shape, but your Vi would never betray you like this. 

“This is for you, this is for Zaun,” god, even the words tasted like a lie on her tongue, but she wouldn’t admit it. “Jinx is a danger to us both topside and here in the undercity. You should know that!”

“Is that the lie you’re telling yourself to justify this!?” You were practically vibrating with anger, fists clenched tightly at your sides. “I loved you, Vi. What are you doing?” 

Vi’s face twisted, a crack of pain breaking through her tough facade. “I—” she started, but her words fell apart. 

The silence that stretched between you felt louder than the pounding of your heart. You could barely breathe, your chest heaving with rage, disbelief, and heartbreak. 

“You loved me? Don’t you dare use that in the same breath as selling me out,” you snapped, stepping closer to her. You didn’t care about the enforcer shadowing her, a step behind with one hand hovering near her weapon. All you could see was Vi, standing there with a badge at her hip and gilt in her eyes. “I trusted you. You swore you’d never betray us. Never betray me.” 

“This isn’t about betrayal!” Vi shot back, her voice trembling as she raised her hands, trying to calm you or herself—you couldn’t tell. “This is about stopping you before it’s too late. You’ve gone too far, Y/n. The arson, the—” she hesitated, jaw tightening. “The murders. Working with—”

“With Silco!?” You laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “That’s what she told you, isn't it?” You gestured sharply to the enforcer—Caitlyn—her perfect Piltover uniform untouched by the grime of Zaun. “Let me guess, she spun some story about me being a terrorist, and you just ate it up because she’s got a fancy accent and a badge.” 

“That’s not—” Vi started, but Caitlyn’s voice cut through her hesitation. 

“She’s dangerous, Vi. You know that.” Caitlyn’s tone was level, professional, but her gaze flicked to you with a mix of wariness and disdain. “We need to bring her in—now.” 

“Jinx and I have done more for this city than you ever could! We’ve brought hope back to Zaun and you’re trying to rip it to shreds! What about my parents? What about your parents!” Your heart cracked, splintering into sharp, jagged pieces. You took another step forward, daring Vi to stop you. “So, what’s it going to be, Vi? Do you believe her?” You pointed at Caitlyn. “Or me?” 

Vi hesitated, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the girl you fell in love with. The girl who once fought for Zaun, for her family, for you. But then she looked at Caitlyn, and everything shattered. 

“I love you,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” 

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. Your vision blurred, not from tears—no, you wouldn’t cry—but from a red-hot fury that burned through your veins. “No,” you growled, voice low and venomous. “Don’t you dare say that to me. You don’t get to say you love me and choose a Piltie over me.” 

“Y/n,” Vi said, stepping toward you, but you backed away, shaking your head. 

“Stay the hell away from me,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “You’re no better than the blue bellies who raided Zaun and tore our families apart. You’re just like them. You’re a traitor.”

The words cut deep—you saw it in the way Vi flinched, the way her hand wavered before falling uselessly to her side. But you didn’t care. Let her feel a fraction of th pain she had inflicted on you. 

Caitlyn stepped forward then, gun in hand. “Surrender peacefully, or this ends the hard way.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “You think I’m going down without a fight?” Your hands flexed at your sides, ready to grave the blade hidden beneath your coat. You knew it wasn’t a fair fight—two against one, with Caitlyn’s hextech rifle and Vi’s hextech fists—but you didn’t care. If this was how it ended, you’d make them work for it.

The fight erupted in a blur of movement. Caitlyn fired, but you ducked, the bullet ricocheting off a metal pipe. You lunged at Vi, and for a moment, your fists collided with hers—like old times, but with none of the playfulness, none of the love. 

“Y/n, stop!” VI shouted, blocking your strikes. Her voice was desperate, pleading. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Funny, because you already have,” You snarled, landing a blow that sent her stumbling back. But Caitlyn was there, quick and efficient, slamming the butt of her rifle into your side. Pain exposed in your ribs, but you didn’t falter. 

You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. 

It wasn’t long before they overwhelmed you. Caitlyn had you pinned, her knee digging into your back as she cuffed your hands. Vi stood over you, blood dripping from a cut above her eyebrow, her expression a mix of anguish and regret. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, struggling against the cuffs. “Don’t you dare look at me like that.” 

“I—” Vi started, but you cut her off. 

“You made your choice,” you spat. “You chose her. You chose Piltover. You chose everything you once swore to hate. And for what? A badge? A chance to play hero?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Screw you, Vi.” 

Her face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears in her eyes. But you didn’t care. Let her cry. Let her feel the weight of what she’d done. 

As Caitlyn hauled you to your feet, you fixed Vi with a glare, your voice cold and unyielding. “You’re dead to me, Vi. Don’t ever forget that.” 

read part 2 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[dragon-chica]

Cryptid Hunting - Eddie & Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel / Venom

Dear gods it's been a long time since I wrote but this duo? marry me.

You have a love for monsters and stories, folklore and cryptozoology especially the more interesting creatures, in particular.

Eddie once had asked you if you really believe in all those stories, legends and cryptids and folklore. He found them interesting and entertaining, especially some of your favorites you shared with him, but didn't consider a lot on the subject.

"Babe, your body contains an alien slime that cured your cancer and eats your ass. This is just a cursed child that flew out a chimney and haunts New Jersey. No offense, Venom, honey."

"NONE TAKEN."

"That's fair."

You had always wanted to try cryptid hunting just for fun, but could never convince anyone to join you for a night of tomfuckery in a creepy area with legends and rumors.

Eddie though, had no excuse.

Your reasoning was, he's a journalist, he should investigate this story, spinning your laptop around with an article on a chosen cryptid for him to look at while you also read about it from one of your cryptozoology and folklore books.

Your second reason was, he's your boyfriend and "Please, please, please, please baby?"

Which of course he could never say no to, not that it helps that Venom is also now pleading along with you.

"YES EDDIE, PRETTY PLEASE? WE CAN FIND IT AND EAT IT. AN EXOTIC SNACK, AND WE WILL IMPRESS THEM."

Both his lovers pleading for him to do something? He's a lovestruck sucker as is, even if it is walking around like a couple of dumbasses in the dark. He's done weirder.

You honestly didn't actually expect him to agree though, and are ecstatic that he does.

Your excitement and the big kiss on his cheek is already worth it he thinks.

"SEE EDDIE? WE ARE AMAZING PARTNERS. MORE CRYPTIDS AND MORE KISSES."

You make a day out of it, a roadtrip.

With snacks. Lots of snacks, and one guy at a gas station that was just awful. "HE DIDN'T TASTE VERY GOOD EITHER."

All in all, Eddie was having a good day. Time off spent with his favorite beings, a scenic drive, wearing shoes. Not really expecting much of the "cryptid hunt" besides walking around in the dark and talking to the woods like ghosthunters.

But you and Venom were hyped, as soon as you parked in a secluded area and geared up with flashlights and a video camera, he didn't know who was more excited.

Venom was hovering over his shoulder, head whipping around so much he was spinning Eddie as he went, following you "to a good spot."

You sat in the woods for awhile together waiting for it to get dark, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and leaning against Eddie while reading to him different stories from one of your cryptid books.

When darkness settled around you and something could be heard walking through the brush, you flashlight spun toward it.

"DO NOT WORRY MORSEL, WE ARE THE LETHAL PROTECTOR. YOU ARE SAFE."

Eddie did not expect, at the sound of something moving closer in the woods, for Venom to jump out of him, and into you. Backing up with black good around your hand now shaking with the beam towards it.

"What the hell V?" he whisper shouted while your other hand covered your mouth trying to hide a snicker.

"THAT'S ENOUGH HUNTING FOR TONIGHT."

A weird trilling sound came for the forest and Venom encased you, going full form and grabbing Eddie over your shoulder before sprinting back to the card and tossing him inside.

Your flashlights, heavy duty and bought just for this, were long forgotten while multiple tentacles rummaged around Eddie before finding the keys and slamming them in the ignition.

"What's wrong V? i thought you wanted to eat a cryptid for me?"

You try to soothe and pet him while Eddie gets his bearings again.

"NOT HUNGRY. THE UGLY MAN GAVE US INDIGESTION. BESIDES, EDDIE WAS SCARED."

"HEY!"

Eventually, against Venom's protests on Eddie being a chicken and too scared to continue, Eddie trekked back to retrieve your gear, Venom back with him and switching from full cowl to hiding inside him again while you waited in the car.

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

☾ summary : Rome has never been the same since Emperor's Geta wife died, can you bring back the life he has before?

☾ pairing : Widowed!Emperor Geta x Servant!FEM!reader

☾ wc : 18+ MDNI angst, slow-burn, struggling with grief, fluff, smut, aftercare <3, Geta refers reader as "lass", discrimination, cursing, slight harassment, attempted poisoning, allusions to sexism and misogyny, appearance of General Acacius & Caracalla, hostile, aggression, no use of y/n, historical inaccuracies, reader is intelligent and different among the others

☾ agatha's masterlist ☾

"Leave me be!"

"Sire-"

"I said leave me be!"

The consul's scrambled everywhere as they quickly exited the room, numerous chatter swirled the area, he is upset yet again, it appears so

"Rome will fall, if he can't do his culpability" the patrician speak as he smirks taking a sip of his wine on a chalice

"Says who drowned themselves in leisure, yes, you have the power but you patricians who doesn't even contribute to this society, meaning you have no use at all!" one of the consul's spits venom that provoked the man in front of him as they clashed together in a heated argument that turned into a fight

"Enough of this foolishness!"

All of the men stopped abruptly as they saw who walked by

"The emperor is not in the mood for political talk as of the moment, so, all of you are dismissed!"

"Apologies, General Acacius" the member of the consul's shakes his head, absolutely humiliated by the behavior of the Senate, at a disapproval manner as he nudges his head at the door

"Have I not been clear? I needed to be alone"

"It's me, your liege"

He stifle an angry sigh when he recognized the male's voice as he clears his throat, he twists on his rings as he helped him calm for a bit as he turns around slowly, a twinkle on his eyes, the frown that he has on earlier has curved up into a slight smile

He won again, conquering every country that he commands him to do

"Pardon me for barging in but now it is done, can I see my wife and k-"

"There are more victories still yet to come"

He doesn't even let him finish, Acacius has to swallow his frustrations and sadness as he had to remain respectful in front of his Lord, but deep down, he knew

He always knew that he won't get out of this anytime soon, he is like tied to a chain that couldn't break

Taking over the next land and after the next place, it is very tiresome and he doesn't want to be remembered this way

He has seen so many innocent lives that he has to took just because of an order from the highest ruler of Rome, it's execution if he disoblige it, even he's the most-skilled General who won many battles but that's all erased when you're chosen for this duty

He doesn't even feel like he is doing his job as a General, he feels like a slave

It's an endless cycle, he figured that this is his coping mechanism ever since he rages out of nowhere, he can't even see the Emperor he once knew, he knew his ladywife back in the day when there's no blood spilt in the streets of Rome

He also knew that his own wife didn't want this for him and for Rome

But, can he blame him? He loved her too much and her being the leverage of why he does his responsibility so smoothly, his inspiration

Geta, he once knew didn't care about being powerful, untouchable, or feared, he was already contented on what he has have while being the Emperor and an Empress on his side

But that life strucked him out of it after his wife died on incurable disease

Everybody knew how this story goes, the town, the soldiers, and you

"Me and my dear brother are going to celebrate and set up a new entertainment for your winning" Geta says triumphantly as he missed the melancholic gaze that his General has

"The Colosseum, I presume?" He let out a small sigh as he forced a light smile

"Yes, Acacius, The Colosseum indeed"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Whilst the action is happening, the crowds roar in cheer, Caracalla snickering in excitement as he sits besides his brother

Upon watching, Geta eyes never leaves in the field as he takes a huge gulp from his chalice, his face contorts into a unpleasantness as he drops the chalice alerting everyone around him, he holds his stomach in the process

He raises a hand not to do anything but when he starts violently coughing he falls back down in the ground, the shock gasps from the townspeople and so as the other upper social class that accompanied the two twin emperor's and the fighting in the dirt down under also caught attention in this

"Emperor Geta has been poisoned!" The consul's takes the chalice from the ground as he notices the wine has been spiked in some kind of a dangerous element in the drink

"Brother?" Caracalla immediately concerned to his twin and it makes him even more worried when he doesn't received anything from his brother, to that, he signals the gladiator's away and calls it off

"Can you find who it is and bring him to me, I'm sure whoever that was hasn't gone far enough" General Acacius asks one of his troops to search the one who intently wants to kill his Emperor

He is well aware of how cruel his ruler is, no matter how bad he was, it is no right to take someone's life

"He has to rest but I'm not sure he will live long enough" The nurse defeatedly as he releases a shaky breath

"What?!?" Caracalla panicks as he breathes heavily, he doesn't know what to do, only his brother can do bigger decisions for them and he don't know what he'll do if his brother passes away

He catches his brother stirred in a painful movement as he exasperatedly sighs as he gestures the nurse outside of the room to talk privately

Unbeknown to them, you we're there already waiting for the right moment, you have prepared the healing mixture in a bowl and you quickly took a spoonful of it

"Your grace, this will make you feel better"

A voice

A voice from a young woman beside him, he can't look at you closely when he's in a state of being delirious in this horrible feeling that is going on his system

He manages to ate everything that you could give him but you flinched at the sound of the banging doors

"Peasant!" Caracalla shouts as the glasses on every window ringed at the loudest tone that he directly went into you

"Merciful heavens-" The nurse exclaims as he snatches the bowl from your hands as you bowed your head down

You are not allowed to speak or even look at them unless they ask you to

Caracalla inspects on what you did but he saw his brother features eased a little bit when seconds ago he looked like he is in agony but of course, he doesn't want to give you the satisfaction that you obviously helped him but he doesn't stand you considering you're his personal servant before

"Scram!" He yells and your shoulders shook as you get on your feet together as you headed out of the door

The nurse swipes a finger on the bowl as he tasted it

"What is it?"

"It's....honey...sir"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

You know what you have done was risky and life threatening to be exact since you know how the twin emperor's punished everyone who dares to belittle them or underestimated them

You also knew, you are not someone who is in the higher class of the empire, you are no one

You're just a simple servant who follows commands, cleans, serves, and does all the work for them to keep the palace sleek and comfortable to them

But you've been here for far too long and learned that Geta, he has more humanity left in him than his brother

"Geta is soulless" they say, but to you, he is still there and he is still the same just waiting for someone to unleash it, you can see it in his eyes sometimes, you know all he wanted was to rest for a while but being an Emperor is an enormous weight on his shoulders to be carried because everyone expects him to make Rome great again

You admired him despite the unholiness things he has done, in your heart, you will always going to accept him

But you will always be the one who looks at him from afar because you're just a servant, if things were in a different circumstances you could've talk to him in an easy way but that only happens in dreams

"This is the girl who gave you that whatever substance that she made you eat last night" Caracalla drags you all the way to Geta's room making you drop to your knees as he shoves you harshly to the marbled floor

Geta stares at you, he stood up from his bed as he walks forward to you

"Stand up"

You do as he says while keeping your head down, he encircles you, even you don't see his expressions you feel his gaze analyzing every bit of you

"The nerve of this-"

"Brother, I've had enough"

He huffs as he wrongly thinks that his twin suggesting you to warm his bed

You swallowed nervously at that as you controlled your calmed composure, you tried your best to mask your stunned expression when he denies his brother's words as he escorts him outside of his room

When he appears in front of you, he saids in a calmer tone, "Lift your head up" you do as he says but still avoiding his eyes

He shook his head sideways, "I gave you the permission to look at me no need to ask me again" he demands, his voice was firm this time

That's where you can see so much more of him, upclose and personal, it's the first time you laid your eyes on him like this, god, his eyes

It felt like you're staring at him for too long to other emperor's if you have done that, you could've lose your head so you avert your eyes to somewhere else too scared to get killed off on the spot

You know he doesn't have the same qualities like his brother but still you don't wanna disrespect him

He could sense your discomfort, he still continues to assure you, "I am not going to do anything to you, I just wanted to have a civilized conversation to you"

You lightly nod at that, he chuckles and that eases you out when you heard it, "Is that how it goes for everyone?" he walks towards to the balcony with his hands behind his back as he nudges his chin for you to come and join him

"Sometimes, your highness"

"Terror, the terror that gives it away" he saids in a unlikely manner it almost sounds like he is not proud of it

Since he convinced you twice not to be afraid around him, so, you took the chance to spoke up, "Is it true what you said back there?"

He hums in response, you continued "that.... you're not going to use me for your own pleasure?"

He turns his head at you, amused by the sudden boldness that you could ask directful question like that to an Emperor

"I-I am not like my brother, I don't treat women that way" he stutters as you caught a glimpse of misty glimmer on his eyes but he rapidly blinks away as he focuses his stare to something else

It seemed like you just crossed a line, so, you quickly said

"My sincerest apologies for asking such question-"

"No, forgive me, for my brother, My mother thought us how to be proper in courting women but our father was the coldest man in our childhood, I think he consumed that attitude not so much as I do" he explains as he gave you a small smile that is somehow genuine to you as he re-enters inside of his room drinking a glass of water

You followed suit as you stayed in your place not too close from him

"Now, where did you learn that?" He kept his eyes on you

He brings up the question about the syrup that you gave him last night

"From where I come from that's the natural remedies for stomach indigestion but it is commonly used for food poisoning" you plainly said

He thinks your words carefully, "How come you knew that I was having food poisoning?"

"You're acting like you're about to vomit that's one of the cases of the said sickness, and as for the culprit, I fear, whoever that was, has their mission failed unsuccessfully"

He laughs at the last comment, "Oh, General Acacius will deal with that"

"Do you feel better now, my lord?"

"Yes, I do now, thanks to you" he points his chalice to you as you flash him a quick smile

"Is there anything else that I could do for you before I leave?"

He waves his hand at you as you turn and open the door

"Hang on"

You halt in your tracks and you turned around to look at him, "Yes?"

"How come I don't see you around here before?"

You frown at that question, "I am forbidden to answer that, I'm sorry I must go"

Caracalla, he thinks to himself

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Brother!"

"Geta, for heaven's sake, did you not learn how to knock?!?"

"Where did you find her?"

"Oh, the wretched servant girl?"

"Yes, the servant girl"

A bitter laugh erupts from his chest, "Why are your eyes flaring through me like I've done something wrong?"

"I asked you a question, brother, my patience is thinning"

"Why? Do you want me to get rid of her?"

"Listen here, she told me she is banned to speak her part....unless you imperil her life if she does"

"Oh, yes, we had an agreement" he trails off as Geta stomps forward to him as he pushes him off the chest

"She is my servant here, that's why you haven't seen her before because I prevented her to roam around our palace but that girl's head is stubborn as a rock and also she knows too much and it's outlandish for a young woman to behave like that"

"Where is she positioned then?" He ignores the unnecessary remark about you

"I gave her to you instead, I was supposed to end her life but one of the eldest servants of ours, begged for me to spare her life because I was informed that she excels in a lot of work that is done here"

Geta nods slowly as he thought about you for the second time of the day, it makes sense

"Brother, she is odd, unlike the other women that I brought here, sometimes I do think that she casts a spell on men, a woman shouldn't be that open minded or having a brain"

"Is that the very reason why you cast her out?"

"Yes" he answers absentmindedly

Geta shook his head in disbelief on his brother, "Good thing that you let her live because without her? I wouldn't be alive right now"

He leaves his brother's chambers alone in his own thoughts

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Is everything settled?"

"Swell"

General Acacius exits the room preparing for another upcoming battle but this time, Geta will come along

You enter inside thought no one is in there, so, you froze standing there

"You can come in, I am about to leave"

You nod at his words as you start wiping with a damp cloth of the artifacts and statues, you didn't mean to look, you accidentally scan over to what he was holding and you saw the papers, it looks like a tatic and war strategy, you took a brief glance over at the weather outside

"I had a feeling it's going to rain hereafter"

Geta removes his eyes on the paper as he follows your gaze, he blinks once or twice, waiting for you to elaborate when you didn't catch on, he spoke

"What exactly you're trying to prattle?"

"I surmise that's your crusade with Sir Acacius?" You point out the paperwork that he's holding as he slowly nod with a perplexed expression trying to grasp your words but he is still evidently confused

Surmise? He'll vouch his own brother on that, he was right, you are no ordinary servant

You are educated, it is given

This makes him piques more interest of getting to know you more

"Yes, it is"

"Is the ground solid?"

"What?"

"The battlefield, is it dirt or solid?"

"Uh.... it's mud"

"I'd say don't wear any armor-"

He snorts, "That's baffling to say-"

"Because it makes you heavy and it's hard to yield your swords"

You watch him as if you can see his mind working on its gears, he raises both of his eyebrows when he finally got what you mean

"How are you certain about this?" He tries to confirm your words

"I just told you, my lordship, I had a feeling" you only shrug your shoulders as you glance at him

"I can't believe I am saying this but I am intrigued"

"One more thing, I suggest you let them come over first before you attack gather everyone at the area and then begin fighting at the pit"

You missed the way his eyes are so fixed on you as you talk, he haven't had this fascinating interaction in years

It's all new to him

"I'll consider your advices, lass"

You curtsey to him before you take your departure as you close the door behind you

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Good gracious

You we're right

If only you we're there to witness it

It's grotesque in all of sorts that Geta himself let all of his men killed one of his longtime foes in the Empire

They're supposed to fought together, but he kept slipping and embarrassing himself in front of him

He won, if he didn't revise his commitment on this, he would've lose it

Geta, however, delighted to celebrate this achievement, but something else is forming on his chest, he thought he could never felt it again after mourning the loss of his wife

You're not advised to meddle with the celebration but you longed for that someday, so, you saw him waving his hand at the townspeople by the window as you stop sweeping for a minute

You know that day won't come

"Before you go, can you call me a servant?" Geta laugh dies down as he straighten himself on the seat

"Yes, of course, your majesty" General Acacius saids fondly with a smile

"Which servant?"

"The bright one"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"You summon for me?" You enter his chambers and tried to poise as if you're not exhausted and already dreaded the set of overloading tasks that you're going to do

"Yes, my dear-"

He stops and his smile falls, "What happened to your hands?"

You tensed when he takes a hold both of your hands, you watch him, you're insane if you think that he cares about you

But, it seems like he truly does, he's been gone for 2 months and didn't like that he comes home to see this

He disregard the news to you, seeing those scratches, redness, splotches on your soft skin, is mood killer to him

He grumbles his tone changed, "Come with me"

You can't hear what they're saying

You're an inch across in the hallway but you can only tell that Geta is sternly talking to the head of the maids in his palace

The poor middle aged maid who is once treated you unkindly before, to your observation, you feel that she is being sermon by Geta, she is petrified

"If you make her work 10x more harder than all of you usually do, I will have your head for the public to see"

"No! Please-"

"Get the fuck away from my sight"

She scurries from him with the eyes of horror in them

Your eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment

"I've lighten your work load" he grins at you and you get even more bamboozled than before, the only thing you overheard from him is his lowly chuckle

"What- excuse me? Sire?"

He left you hanging like that as you frustratedly sigh and you just went into your cramped room and all alone in your unanswered questions

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Child, what are you doing here?"

"I-I thought I was assigned to the laundry today?"

"You're not one of us here, not anymore"

"Sorry?"

"You're Emperor Geta's private servant now"

You softly gasp at the revelation as your mouth is hanging agape and you let out a sound of surprise fall from your lips

To that, you headed towards Geta's room, you are more confident to step in anytime since he has never been awful to you

"What in the blazes-"

"There you are"

You felt the mood shift and your questions on your mind had been paused when you caught the broken voice from him

He carefully folded a very old brittle letters, you assume it belongs to his wife, it's delicate and it's very sentimental to him, he uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears on his eyes

"Geta?-"

"Can you lay down on the bed, please?"

You oblige as you get yourself comfortable on his bed, your concern in your eyes has never faltered when you noticed how distress he is

He took off his robe lets it fall down to the floor as he joins you in, you didn't watch him get beside you, you just stare at the ceiling, you felt the mattress dipped

You feel his eyes on you, he is hesitant, he even kept a personal space for you, but he just needs someone to burst this out this heavy feeling that he has

He's been carrying this for ages

And no one is there for him to lean on, until you came

You heard the sniffle as he hiccupped between sobs, "C-Can I hold you?"

"Yes, you may-"

You yelped when he reaches out and grab you and embraces you a bit tightly

That's where he let all of his tears fall as he wept hard on you in the crook of your shoulder

Your heartaches for him, you also realized that he hasn't got anyone to talk to, about this, you know the reason why

It will make him look weak

The moment you wrapped your arms around him, he brings you even more closer to him, you run down your hand on his back from up and down as you let him wallow to you

You comforted him until the both of you drifted away to sleep

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

You woke up in a breezy morning with the most velvety blanket covered you

You haven't slept like this peacefully, you feel so relaxed than the rickety old bedframe that you had in your stables

You snap your eyes wide open when you realized where you are

"Calm down, lass"

You fastly sit up from the bed, he places his chalice aside as he sits down on the edge of the bed, a content smile on his face

"Sire-"

"You are welcome to stay here in my quarters, you can do everything that you wish" he says with the emphasis on the word as he held your hand caressing your knuckles with his thumb

He smiles again when he sees your wounds healing, the special ointment that he uses worked "Here, you should eat" he gives you the silver tray filled with variety of food

Before you protest, "I'll attend a meeting, I'll be back"

He left you with another complete unbelievable expression on your face

"This has got to be a dream"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

A rapple knock through the door, startled you out of it, disturbing you with the book that you've been reading, but before you could reach the handle, the same soldier that has been stalking you came in with rage and lust on his eyes, you walk backwards as he closes the door

"You know just because Geta made you his servant doesn't mean I have no right to touch you"

"Please, don't do this-"

"You are not his whore, noblewoman" he chuckles with snarkiness, "you're not his wife"

Your heart cracks, your body begins to shake because of fear, you eye the door behind him, you find look everywhere to use as a weapon

You had no other choice to kick him in the weak spot making him fold in pain, he tries to tussle you and threw you in the bed but you slapped him making him angrier than before

When you ran towards the door, he trips you made you fall flat face down on the floor, you scream out for help as the fresh tears roll down to your face as he drags your feet across the room, he puts himself on top of you

He won't budge as he rips your clothes, you thought it will be the end for you

"Hey!" Geta sheathes his sword pointing at the predator who crawls back, he's like a deer caught in the headlights, you picked yourself up as you went behind Geta's back

Geta's piercing gaze is making the man skin goosebumps on its wake, he gulped hard as he begs for his life and for mercy

"How dare you to enter my abode and wickedly abused my lady?!?" He steps more further to him as you hide behind his back

His lady? What?!?

"I shall eat your heart out and feed you to the lions!" He shouts and raises his sword aiming for his neck

"Geta! No!"

You went over to his front, you have no idea the effect that you're giving him, you saw his gaze softens when it lands on you

He calms down when you weep and hug him instead, but still the fire in his eyes lingered over the man who is now getting arrested by General Acacius men

When the two of you are alone, he spoke, "Are you alright-"

"I'm gonna draw a bath for myself-" you whispered

He sighs as he lets you, the worry on his eyes are glued to your back

He shouldn't have left you all alone

You bring your knees close to your chest as you quietly sob

Geta kept pacing back and forth outside of the bathroom, he runs down his palm on his face

The knock terrifies you again, "Lass?" but your nerves eased when you recognize the voice

"May I come in?"

You thought about it for a while, but you could use some company after what just happened

"Yes"

He gets himself inside, the moonlight is making your skin glow, his heart thumps faster as he walks closer, he felt bad

"I'm so sorry-"

"It isn't your fault, your grace" you sniffle as you cut off the eye contact to him, you feel so ashamed of yourself

"You should've let me kill him-"

"Geta, with all due respect, I'm not yours to begin with"

That's where guilt flashes on his eyes and it's clear to his face, he swallowed the lump on his throat as he breathes deeply

"I knew the Empress, I already accepted way before that I have no place in your world, nobody can ever surpass your lady wife" you croak out the last part as you sniffle

You are wrong about that

"Even you're not mine, I don't like evil things tainted my palace"

You look up to him as he cradled your cheek as he runs his thumb, "Come to my chambers after you finish and wear this" he whispers as he places a white satin dress next to you

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

When you finally came back to his chambers, he swiftly turns around to look at you

The air from his lungs knock out as he places his hand on his chest

The contentment on his smile fades slightly when you don't match the one on his face, he can't read you

"What do you need me for?"

"I-I want you to stay here with me"

You scoff, it feels like your wasting your time here, "Geta, you can't just want me and act like this meant nothing!"

"I didn't say that-"

"You shower me with all this affection and lavished me with stuff that I didn't asked for and why do I feel like I'm being the one who filling that void in you?!?"

Oh, you hit the nerve on him

"Slow down with your words, lass"

"Tell me, Geta, what am I here for? what am I to you?"

He sighs and raggedly breathes as he huffs

"Don't push me-"

"Answer me!"

"I can't pursue you because I'm a monster!"

Your heart shatters when you heard his voice cracks, "Geta-"

"You're the only woman that has ever treated me fairly ever since my wife died when in reality anyone could've left me for dead"

You know what exactly he's talking about, the day you saved him from poisoning

"What are you trying to say?"

"I tried to resist but you making it hard for me not to, I-I thought I would never have this, you made me feel alive"

You come closer to him but he kept staying away from him, you plead your eyes to him but he avoids it

"You're too good to me, you don't even know how many times you crossed my mind everytime I'm out there making plans for Rome"

"Geta, you we're only doing what you have to do, I understand-"

"Dearie me, lass, spare me your sympathies, it's unfathomable how much I brought wreckage of Rome, do you know how the town loathes me?!?"

You reach to his face to hold both of his cheek, he gasps within the warmth of your touch

"I could never hate you, there's no fiber in me that despises you, I'm not afraid of you, Geta"

His eyes are glassy and when everywhere as he searches for uncertainty, there's nothing, you are so honest and sure with your words

"Will you spooked out if I do something?"

"No, Geta-"

He slams his lips against yours as you melt with it, both of yours lips together collided as one, he kisses you deeper as he grabs your waist closer to him, you let out a sweet soft moan as he growls when you bit his lips slightly

He grips both of your legs as he carries you smoothly as if you weigh nothing, you wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you tenderly, your heart melts with his gentleness

He trails his kisses to the nape of your neck as his hands are under the hem of your dress, he breathes you in, he pull down the strap of your dress as you adjust yourself to remove it, your cheeks are flushed as you became shy under his gaze as he drinks you in

His eyes rake all over your body, your curves, your thighs, he takes his robe off quickly as he can, you giggle as he shoots you mischievous grin

"Your face and your body is like been carved by the gods" he breathlessly say as he carefully enters your sopping hole as you winced at the intrusion

The pain is overwhelming but as soon as the pleasure takes over you throw your head back into the cushions

"G-Geta-" you whine as he kisses your jaw, "I know, my love"

My love?, you audibly gasped at that but his moves goes faster and your roll backwards at the sensation forming up in your belly

He pumps in and out of your tight hole as the sinful sounds of body slamming echoed in the room, he kneads your breasts as he goes even more faster

He swallows your moans as he captures your lips again, he can't get enough of you, he wanted to absorb every inch of you

Your jaw falls slack when you grip beneath the sheets, he grips your hips so hard, your nails dig to his back as you scratch it earning a groan from him

You feel completely boneless as he pulls you to him, you shriek at the angle that he could reach inside of you, he opens your legs wider as he helps you to bottom in and out as you sunk down on him, you mewl and writhe as he sucks on your skin finding your sweet spot as you squeal, licking the marks that he made on you with the flat of his tongue

Your legs tremble as your toes curl when you roll your hips to him as he matches your movements, you grind him fast, he praises how he feels so good inside of your velvety walls as you clench around him

You moan loudly when he brings you back to the bed as he start pounding on you, your eyes almost drop to its sockets, when you tried to use your elbows to raise yourself but can't do it anymore as you feel absolutely in the haze, blissfully euphoric in the moment

He brings you over the edge as he stays in the crook of your neck as he continues ruthlessly goes back and forth deliciously coating his member with your juices

You scream as you came undone as you blackout from the orgasm, he kisses every part of your skin leaving no part missed, he breathes out with a lazily smile and when he notices you're not responding, he gently pats your cheek

"Darling?"

That's the first time that he has ever referred you

You hum in response but a pleased smile is now sitting on your lips, your eyes are half way closed, the vision is still blurry and your legs are definitely going to sore first thing in the morning but you don't care, this is fulfilling to you

He sighs in relief, "Are you well?" He says as slowly pulls himself out, you whimper at the emptiness as he devilishly chuckles

"I am, I just need to come back down to earth"

Bells of laughter bursted out from his mouth as you smiled widely at the sound of it

When he calms down, he takes care of you, both of you are still naked under the sheets as he pulls you to his side to wrap his arms around you, he rests your head over his arm as he scooped you closer to him as you sigh in comfort

"Goodnight, my love"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Your head is nestled to his neck so perfectly made just for you

You feel otherworldly happier

The sunrise hits your eyes as you squint on it, you look up to him, you saw how handsome he truly is, without his makeup during his killing time in the Colosseum

His ginger hair is so unruly but you loved it so much, you smile to yourself

You can't stop yourself as you place a kiss to his lips making his face scrunch as he finally registers what's happening

He smirks, "Well, morning, lass" This time kisses you properly earning a giggle from you

"Morning, my emperor"

His eyes sparkle when you said that, "My emperor, I like it"

Both of you are mirroring each other, smiling so big that it making your cheeks hurt but you didn't mind it

It looks like he is back again, you knew it, you knew it all along

His face became slowly serious as he takes your hand closer to his chest as he peppered it with kisses

"Lass?"

"Hm?"

"I want you to be my-"

"Your eminence? someone here wants to see you"

He rolls his eyes as your smile never faded as you look at the door behind him

"My sweet-"

"You can tell me it later, Geta" you held his cheek as you made a quick peck to his lips

He pouts but he has to stand up and get dressed as you sit up to watch him

Love

Love is so above in the air, both of your heartbeats the same thing

When he looks decent, he's about to leave but he run towards you to give you a big kiss as you squeal as you shove him in the chest as he laughed

He finally lets you go, he walks backwards as he bite his bottom lip

He turns around opens the door and gave you one last look with a smile that you never ever expected to be directed at you

A smile that you never thought you will get to see it again

He gives himself a tight nod as he finally made his mind, he knows what to do with your relationship to him

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Acacius?"

"Yes, your liege?"

"You have my permission, you can visit your family"

His eyes are watery from the statement but Geta felt the happiness that rushes through him

"I sincerely thank you for accepting my request, your highness" he bows

When he gathered his things, Geta spoke again, he needed to say this to him

"Acacius?"

"Yes?"

"I-I know I'm not the exceptional Emperor but I must say that I am forever indebted to your loyalty, not one single General that stays longer than you, Acacius"

He chuckles heartily at that, "If I may be so bold, sire, can I tell you something?"

"Please do"

"Is she your lady?"

Geta blushes at that as he scratches the back of his neck, "Yes, she is"

"That young woman, my lord, your brother Caracalla, he....snatched her father's life away, she's no royalty but her parents scraped up to give her what they can do, to what they feel seems right for her, so, that's why she's so knowledgeable" he saids with a dismayed expression on his face

It felt like a punch to a gut

"I fear, you didn't know about that" Acacius realizes that Geta's mind is all over the place now

"I-I....good god.....she didn't addressed that to me"

"It's because she loves you so much that she protected you from your brother's schemes"

Geta sat down on his throne with a softened features on his eyes as Acacius made his way over to his side

"She chose kindness over hatred despite what your brother has done to her"

"I-"

He saw your figure hiding behind the pillar, his heart swells at the sight of you being so meek all of the sudden, Acacius followed Geta's eyes as he gestures to welcome you

You shyly came out, "I didn't mean any harm-"

"Tell me, lass, how does my Empress sound?"

Acacius purses his lips as he tries to hide his knowing smirk as he held his hands behind his back

Your mouth slowly drops as you tilt your head at him as you dart your eyes back and forth to him and Acacius, Geta wished you knew how breathtaking you look, you radiating everything that he has ever needed in his life, your eyes screams joy, your lips curled into a sweet smile, you see in his eyes that he wholeheartedly wanted this, and you couldn't convey how elevated you are

But before you could answer, you saw someone aiming an arrow at him, your eyes widen

When it strikes, you pushed Geta away catching the arrow yourself in the scene, he gasps as Acacius manages to dodge the second arrow, he hollers at his troops to capture the man, it's the same man who terrorized you, the voices are blurred to him now, he felt his world crumbled when he saw you laying on the marbled floor with a staggering breath, you feel lightheaded, your blood seeps through your white dress, he drop to his knees as he daintly pulls you to him as he cradles your neck

"Oh, god, no" he didn't even realized that he's crying as you felt the tears falling through your cheek

"Geta-" you choke in your own blood, Geta carries you in his arms as he shushes you, he's making sure that he's not hitting your injured area as he curses at himself

"D-Don't beat yourself up, Geta"

"No, save your strength-"

"I'm sorry, Geta, I didn't wished for this to happen-" you sob as you grimace in pain

"What are you even apologizing for?"

"I didn't meant to replace your ladywife"

"Stop, don't talk like that" he pants as he calls for a healer to fix you

"Don't torture yourself, I don't want you to punish yourself-"

"I-I can't lose you!"

"Geta, don't cry-"

"I would rather be with you than be alone ruling Rome, I want you by my side!"

"I have adored you for eons, Geta" you sniffle as you flash him with a pained smile

"Y-You can't- I love you" Geta himself shocked by his own words as he tries

Your waterline starts to sting as you tried to hold back your tears, the faint tear rolls down to your cheek as he wipes it with his thumb

When he sees your eyes fluttering close, he wails, he panicked bad, really in pure anguish

"N-No-N-No, don't stay with me!"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

He watches as your chest heaves weakily, bloodshot eyes as he can feel them swollen first thing in the morning when he wakes up

He stayed up late, he stayed beside you while you're fast asleep, your face has lost its color of how tender the arrow hit you closer to your chest, Geta has seen so many horrific scenarios all of his life but not like this, every maid and even General Acacius clamoring to save you, it's like the time stopped, it's like the God's cursing at him that he didn't deserve this

Happiness at last until it's not

It's a miracle, the healer says, that somehow it didn't hit a more fatal fracture around your chest, it will heal but surely it will leave a mark on your skin and the process will be longer at how deep the arrow went through you

"What's the point" Geta mutters to himself as he takes a glance at you

"What's the purpose of me living and ruling this empire with Rome around me when I have no one" he punctuates every word with indignant tone as he stood up and puff as he paces across the room

"I have nothing without my lady" he took a look at the sky as if he's talking to the God's

"Me, an bloodthirsty Emperor who is inhumane to his people, I know, what I've done, I will take that regret to my grave, it's unforgivable, the shadow of it will forever follow me, but this?" He points to you and looked back at the sky again said with tears on his eyes, irked but filled with desperation and misery

"I-I was blinded by my sorrow and wrath, I cursed the whole town and blamed the world for the death of my late wife" his voice cracks on every word as he runs a shaky hand over his hair

He looks back at you again and he can't help but breakdown and cry once more

He shakes his head furiously as he gives a pointed look at the sky

"I won't let you take her, you can't take her away from me, not this one, no, I won't allow it, not ever!" He shouts out loud as his voice echoed, he breathes heavily as he squeezes his eyes shut

"Let me have her, please, let me keep her" he pleas as he stare into nowhere

When he hears a faint voice coming from inside, he gets back up to his feet, he did a double take, if he heard it right, when he does he sprinted back to you

He sees you holding out your hand as he happily cries to see you awake, you've slept for so long when it all happened in one day

"M-My darling-"

"Geta, y-you're not blaming yourself, are you?"

"N-No, it doesn't matter anymore"

When you tried to move, you wince as he reminded you, you need to stay still for a while or else you'll bleed again

"Feeling any better?"

"Yes, I am, because you're here"

He sobbed as he kisses your hand as he held it close to his cheek, "Your goodness has never failed to make my heart flutter, my dear, I'm terribly sorry-"

"I love you too"

He stifle a gasp to your words, "You do?" with a hopeful gaze as you smile at him as you move the hair that is closer to his eye

"I do, and I accept your proposal"

He grins widely as he sniffle, you wipe the tears from his eyes, "Don't fret, my love, I'm here"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Of what?"

"That my brother killed your father?"

You blink rapidly suddenly growing nervous, "I-I don't want you and your brother to argue, I know the both of you wanted to rip off with each other's bones but he is still your brother "

He nods softly, "It will take me time to forgive him then"

"That's all I ever wanted for you, Geta"

"Merciful?" He jokingly said as you amuse yourself

"Yes, but don't worry about that now, what matters is we have each other, I help you with every step of the way"

He tucks your hair behind your ear as he hold your cheek, "I am more prouder to stand before you because I know that you got me"

"Always?"

"Always"

He kisses you tenderly and gently, a kiss with a promise, tomorrow will be different, the phases of your life will change because

You're no longer a servant but a....

An Empress to an Emperor

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

☾ an : erm- I think I went overboard lol this was supposed to be a oneshot but it ended up to a longer oneshot fic lmao anyways I just wanted to be detailed and hopefully y'all enjoyed reading this, I got inspired because there's something about a mournful and snappy emperor but has a soft spot for someone that he didn't realized that he loved her! so yeah that's the gist hehe

☾ tags : @eirone-and-cheese @eddiesghxst @yourfavouritecitizen @princesssunderworld (without them pushing me to write this already, this fic wouldn't come to fruition, so, I highly thank you for supporting me! even I'm not that skilled writer, I'm just doing this for fun but still I appreciate your kindness! <3 🥺🫶🏻)

[bridoesotherjunk]

Okay, so it's been a handful of days since I've seen Venom 3.. and I think I've finally got my thoughts together.

This review will have spoilers, so it will go under the cut.

these are all my opinions, so don't take my word as gospel or anything...

Anyone who knows me and my blog knows how much I've loved these movies since 2018, so to see me not ranting about the third Venom movie should be evidence enough how I feel.

I... don't feel like this was a satisfying conclusion to the Venom franchise. I really feel like there was so much more that could have been done, and should have been, instead of what we got.

I truly feel that introducing Knull into the story was a mistake. The first 2 films were so much smaller scale. Expanding all the way to the fucking symbiote god after only having done Carnage just felt like such a massive leap. And they really didn't do much with him anyway.

It felt like they included Knull because they were obligated to. Like Sony made them in order to have a weird spin off involving Knull trying to kill stuff. I don't know. He didn't do much besides tease future movies where he's the villain again. And that's kind of boring...

I will sound so narcissistic saying this, but I truly feel that the story I came up with, where the villains of Venom 3 are former Life Foundation employees angry at Eddie for ruining their lives, made way more sense. In terms of scale, you know? Much less "huge universal threat" and more of the small scale "threat to Eddie and Venom specifically" type story. Even Riot, being a threat to the Earth, was smaller scale than Knull. Knull is just too much. Too big. Too unfocused. It felt like too wide of a net. It felt generic, i hate to say it. It just felt like every other dumb ass gritty movie where the bad guy wants to destroy all life as we know it. (And quite frankly, he could have been taken out of the movie and not much would have changed. Venom and Eddie could have been hunted by the xenophages for any number of reasons.)

The part of the movie that I enjoyed most was the beginning. The part that felt like Venom. Where we saw Eddie and Venom working in sync to free those dogs. I loved that. I loved seeing how far the two of them have come and how well they work together. .. seeing their journey in a montage later? That felt... lackluster. After seeing them literally working together just an hour earlier in the movie, it felt kind of cheap. The way the story ended for these two didn't feel like a victory. It felt like the Avengers Endgame "well we gotta get rid of this character because their contract is up" situation.

The movie was definitely a fun time. I enjoyed myself watching it. But I was left feeling a sense of "That's it?" That I haven't felt since Avengers Endgame.

I'm happy that Tom Hardy got to do these movies. I absolutely will forever adore the first 2. They're fun, they're goofy, they're gay, and I love them. .. but this third one just... yeah. I'm disappointed.

I will always love Venom. That much is not going to change. I love these two gay losers and I'm so happy I got to have them in my life. They brought me so much joy, and so much brainrot, and I will miss the fuck out of them.

[vaguely-concerned]

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

[novaursa]

The Flames We Loved

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it.

- Summary: There are many stories about the Mad King and his daughter, Y/N, and whispers still exist about their bloody deaths written in the tomes of Fire and Blood. And then there are those who were there to witness it all.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Note: The reader is Rhaegar's twin sister and they were both born at Summerhall on the day of its tragedy. This chapter contains various characters and their retellings of deaths of Y/N and Aerys.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Next part: to wake a dragon

Robert and Eddard

Robert Baratheon sat in front of the hearth, the flicker of the flames casting shadows across his face as he stared into the fire. His large hands gripped the mug of wine tightly, his knuckles white, as if he could crush it between his fingers. The years had not been kind to Robert. His once broad, powerful frame had grown soft, his face ruddy with drink, and his eyes—once filled with the fire of rebellion—now carried a deep, bitter weight. But even with all the years that had passed since the rebellion, since the sack of King’s Landing, one memory lingered in his mind, haunting him still.

Ned Stark sat across from him, his own expression quiet, as always, waiting patiently for Robert to speak. He had heard this bitterness before, seen the weight that sat on his old friend’s shoulders whenever the past was brought up. But tonight, there was something heavier in the air, something darker.

Robert took a long, hard swig of wine, letting the burn of it warm his throat before he finally spoke, his voice thick with bitterness. "You know, Ned," he began, his words slurred slightly with drink, "there’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about that day. The day we took King’s Landing. When we… found them."

Ned said nothing, letting Robert speak at his own pace. He had never been comfortable speaking of that day either, but he knew Robert needed to unburden himself, and so he listened, his grey eyes steady.

Robert’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head as if he couldn’t shake the memory. "Aerys… the Mad King. We all expected him to be in a pool of his own blood, lying on his damned Iron Throne, dead and done for. And he was, thanks to Jaime Lannister. But what I didn’t expect… what I couldn’t have expected… was finding her there too."

"Y/N," Ned murmured quietly, filling the silence that hung between Robert’s words. The name of Aerys’ daughter, Robert’s own cousin, carried a weight all its own. The truth of her end, and what had happened in those final moments, had been a point of pain and fury for Robert ever since.

"Aye," Robert spat the name out like a curse, though there was a strange conflict in his voice. "Y/N. The gods-damned daughter of Aerys. You know, I almost pitied her once. They said she was a beauty—Targaryen through and through, with that silver hair and violet eyes. But when we found her…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing as the memory overwhelmed him.

Ned knew what Robert was going to say. He had heard it before, but it still made his heart heavy. He had been in the Red Keep that day as well, seen the destruction, the carnage that had been wrought.

"When we found her," Robert continued, his voice quieter now, but still filled with venom, "she was lying there in a pool of blood, her throat slit, and Aerys was holding her like she was some damned treasure he’d lost. Even in death, he clung to her like a man drowning in his own madness."

Robert’s grip tightened on his mug, his knuckles turning white. "Tywin’s men were the ones who did it, of course. Slit her throat right in front of the mad bastard, just to break him. And break him they did. The great Mad King, the last dragon—reduced to a sniveling wreck as he watched his own daughter bleed out at his feet." He let out a harsh laugh, one devoid of any real amusement. "Justice, some would call it. For what he did to your father, to your brother. But it didn’t feel like justice. It felt… wrong."

Ned’s eyes flickered, his expression grim. He had known Y/N, not well, but enough to know she had not deserved the fate that had befallen her. She had been swept up in her father’s madness, a victim of Aerys’ cruelty and obsession. "She was with child, wasn’t she?" Ned asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.

Robert nodded, his face twisting in disgust. "Aye. She was with child when they killed her. A third Targaryen brat. They didn’t even give her a chance. Not that it matters, though. She was as much Aerys’ as the rest of them—his lover, his daughter, his whore. Gods, Ned, what kind of monster beds his own blood like that?"

Ned stayed silent. He knew Robert’s hatred for the Targaryens ran deep, but there was something more in Robert’s tone, something that went beyond mere disgust. There was bitterness there, a wound that had never fully healed.

"I remember walking into that throne room," Robert continued, his voice low, as if the memory still played in his mind like a nightmare. "Aerys was already dead—Jaime Lannister had run him through—but he was still clutching Y/N’s body, holding her like she was the last thing that mattered in the world. Her blood was everywhere, staining his robes, the floor. I wanted to kick the corpse, make sure the bastard knew he’d lost everything, but Tywin…"

Robert shook his head again, a deep scowl settling on his face. "Tywin wouldn’t let me. Said it wasn’t right to leave them like that. He insisted they be burned together, in the same position we found them. Like some gods-damned lovers’ pyre. I wanted to see them tossed into the dirt, but I let him have his way. Even now, it sickens me to think of it."

Ned took a deep breath, his thoughts heavy. He remembered that day too well—the scent of fire and blood, the sight of Aerys and Y/N, dead together as the Red Keep crumbled around them. It had been a fitting end for the Mad King, but Y/N… she had been something else. A tragedy caught in the crossfire of her father’s madness.

"You think often of them," Ned said quietly, his voice steady. "Aerys and Y/N."

Robert snorted, lifting his mug to his lips again. "Think of them? Aye, Ned, I think of them more than I’d like. They haunt me. But it’s not just them, is it? It’s everything—their damned legacy. I killed one dragon, but the others are still out there, waiting to strike. Viserys, Daenerys… they’re still Targaryens. And you know what Targaryens do, Ned. They burn everything in their path."

Ned nodded slowly, understanding the depth of Robert’s hatred. It wasn’t just Aerys or Y/N—it was the entire Targaryen line, the fire that had claimed so many lives, including Robert’s own family.

Robert stared into the fire again, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I’ll see the last of them dead before I rest easy, Ned. Every last one of them."

Ned said nothing, his heart heavy with the weight of Robert’s words. The rebellion had ended years ago, but the ghosts of the past still lingered, haunting the halls of power, and those who had survived the flames of war.

Jaime and Tyrion

The sun dipped low over King’s Landing, casting a golden light over the Red Keep as shadows stretched long across the city. In one of the keep’s smaller courtyards, Tyrion Lannister walked alongside his brother, Jaime, savoring the warm breeze that drifted in from Blackwater Bay. The day’s heat had finally begun to ease, leaving a comfortable coolness that made it almost pleasant to be outside. Almost.

Tyrion glanced up at his brother, noting the tightness around Jaime’s eyes, the way his jaw clenched as if he were biting back something unpleasant. His golden hair caught the light of the setting sun, but there was a darkness in his expression that was at odds with the warmth of the evening.

“Now, now, brother,” Tyrion began, his voice light with practiced humor as he adjusted his grip on his wine cup. “You look as if you’ve swallowed something bitter. Surely even the great Jaime Lannister can manage to smile on such a fine evening? Or is there some poor soul I should apologize to on your behalf?”

Jaime’s lips twitched, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He glanced at Tyrion, then turned his gaze back to the city sprawling out beneath them, a shadow of frustration crossing his face. “Not every day can be a jest, Tyrion,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “Some things aren’t so easily laughed off.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, his expression sharpening as he studied his brother more closely. Jaime was no stranger to brooding, but there was something different in his mood today—something heavier, like a shadow that clung to him and would not be shaken. Tyrion took a sip of his wine, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke again, his tone softening.

“True enough, I suppose,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “But I know you, Jaime. You brood when you think no one is looking, but you’re usually better at hiding it. What’s on your mind?”

Jaime’s shoulders tensed at the question, his expression tightening as if he wanted to brush it off with a laugh. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of old memories, and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from the view of the city. His gaze drifted over the courtyard, over the stone walls that had stood witness to so many secrets and betrayals.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said at last, his voice rough, as if the words were being dragged out of him. “It’s... it’s something I can’t shake, no matter how many years go by.”

Tyrion watched him closely, his curiosity piqued. Jaime rarely spoke of the past, especially the parts of it that haunted him. But there was a rawness in his voice now that Tyrion had rarely heard—a vulnerability that made him pause, setting aside his usual jests in favor of something more serious.

“Try me,” Tyrion suggested gently, taking another sip of his wine. “You might be surprised at what I can understand. And if it helps ease that troubled look on your face, well, consider it my good deed for the day.”

Jaime shot him a look, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it quickly faded. He seemed to wrestle with something inside himself, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he turned back to face Tyrion, his expression somber, his voice low and raw.

“It’s the throne room,” he said, the words coming out like a confession. “I still have nightmares about it. What happened that day, when I killed Aerys... and Y/N. The way they looked when I... when I saw them together.”

Tyrion’s expression shifted, his flippant demeanor slipping away as he took in the pain in Jaime’s eyes. He had heard bits and pieces of what had happened on that day during Robert’s Rebellion, the day Jaime Lannister earned the name “Kingslayer.” But Jaime rarely spoke of it in detail, and there was a haunted look in his eyes now that made Tyrion set aside his usual barbs.

“Tell me, then,” Tyrion said quietly, leaning closer, his voice filled with a rare seriousness. “What is it you see in those nightmares, Jaime?”

Jaime swallowed hard, his gaze distant as if he were looking at something far beyond the walls of the Red Keep, beyond the years that had passed since that day. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the memories that clung to him like old blood. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with the weight of things long left unsaid.

“I see them, Tyrion. Aerys and Y/N, lying there on the throne room floor, their blood pooling together on the cold stone. I see the way Aerys looked at her even as he died, like she was the only thing left in his world. Like... like he thought holding her would somehow make it right, even with a sword through his back.”

He paused, his throat working as he tried to find the words. “She was already dead when I got there. One of Tywin’s men slit her throat before Aerys’s eyes, and he just... he lost what little was left of his mind. He was screaming for fire, for his pyromancers to burn the city. But all he could do was hold her, cradling her in his arms like she was some broken doll. And when he looked up at me, just before I... before I put my sword through his back, he looked like a man who’d already died.”

Tyrion’s grip tightened around his wine cup, the seriousness in his brother’s voice cutting through the usual banter that defined their conversations. He had never heard Jaime speak with such rawness, such naked pain. The image Jaime painted—the mad king and his daughter, bound together in death—was one that sent a chill through him, making him understand, perhaps for the first time, the true burden Jaime carried.

“And the nightmares?” Tyrion asked softly, his voice filled with a gentleness that he rarely showed. “What do you see, Jaime?”

Jaime’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles going white. He turned away, his expression twisting with something like self-loathing. “I see her eyes, Tyrion,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Y/N’s eyes, wide and empty, staring up at the ceiling as if she couldn’t believe she was dying. I see the blood on my hands, on my sword, and I hear Aerys’s voice, echoing through the hall, calling for fire. It’s always the same. I wake up, and it’s like I’m back there, standing over their bodies, with the whole world burning around me.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound rough and pained. “They call me Kingslayer, but that isn’t the part that haunts me. It’s the way he held her, like she was the last piece of his soul, even when everything else had gone to hell. It’s the way I felt when I put my sword through his back—like I was ending something that should have been over long before it ever came to that.”

Tyrion listened in silence, his heart aching with a strange, unexpected sympathy for his brother. He had always known that Jaime carried the weight of his actions, but he had never truly understood the depth of the scars they had left. He reached out, placing a hand on Jaime’s arm, offering a small gesture of comfort.

“You did what you had to, Jaime,” he said softly, his voice filled with a rare earnestness. “Aerys would have burned the city if you hadn’t stopped him. And Y/N... whatever she was to him, she couldn’t have changed that. You spared King’s Landing from a fire that would have consumed us all.”

Jaime shook his head, a hollow, humorless smile twisting his lips. “Maybe I did,” he murmured, his voice raw. “But it doesn’t change what I see when I close my eyes. It doesn’t change the fact that I stood in that throne room with blood on my hands, and I couldn’t save them. Not her, not the child inside her... and not myself.”

Tyrion squeezed his brother’s arm gently, offering what comfort he could, even though he knew that some wounds could never truly be healed. “The past is a heavy burden, brother,” he said quietly. “But it’s not one you have to carry alone.”

Jaime met his gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something like gratitude in his eyes. He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he turned his gaze back to the distant city, the shadows lengthening as night began to fall.

And as they stood there together, in the fading light of the Red Keep, the ghosts of the past lingered between them—unseen, unforgotten, but perhaps just a little less heavy in the presence of a shared understanding.

Varys and Petyr

The throne room was quiet now, save for the soft, measured footsteps of Varys as he glided across the cold stone floor, his hands tucked neatly into the wide sleeves of his robe. The Iron Throne loomed in the center of the room, its jagged metal spikes casting long shadows in the flickering torchlight. The grand hall felt emptier than usual, almost hollow, as though the weight of history still lingered in the air, thick and oppressive.

Varys had always found it strange how even after years had passed since the rebellion, the specter of Aerys Targaryen and his tragic end still clung to this place, like a ghost that refused to be laid to rest. And not just Aerys—his daughter, Y/N, whose death had been just as shocking, just as poignant in its cruelty.

He approached the throne, his eyes drifting up to the twisted mass of swords that made up its formidable structure, a reminder of power and the price it demanded. But today, Varys wasn’t alone.

Littlefinger stood near the base of the throne, his back turned to Varys, his fingers lightly tracing one of the throne’s twisted metal arms as if he were considering it for himself. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but Varys knew better than to be fooled by such nonchalance. Petyr Baelish was never without calculation, never without purpose.

"Lord Varys," Littlefinger said smoothly, not bothering to turn as Varys approached. "I trust you’ve come to share some new secret, some whispered truth from your little birds?"

Varys smiled slightly, though the expression never quite reached his eyes. "I find it curious, Lord Baelish, that you seem to think I’m the only one with secrets in this city. You, after all, have a few of your own, do you not?"

Littlefinger chuckled, finally turning to face the spymaster. His eyes glittered with amusement, but behind that amusement was something far more dangerous. "Oh, we all have secrets, Varys. That’s what makes this game so interesting, don’t you think?"

Varys raised a brow, his gaze drifting from Littlefinger to the throne itself, a symbol of everything they both sought to control. "Indeed. But some secrets," he said softly, "carry far more weight than others."

Littlefinger's smile didn’t waver, but there was a sharpness in his gaze now. "And what secret, pray tell, weighs on you today, my dear spider?"

Varys moved closer, his hands still tucked into his sleeves as he regarded the throne with a look of quiet contemplation. "I was just thinking," he began slowly, "about how this throne has seen so much bloodshed, so much betrayal. And yet, the events of Robert’s Rebellion still echo the loudest within these walls, do they not?"

Littlefinger tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Ah, yes. The Mad King. His death was certainly… memorable."

Varys nodded, his expression grave. "But it wasn’t just Aerys who met a tragic end that day, was it? His daughter, Y/N… Her death was far more personal. And far more devastating."

At the mention of Y/N, Littlefinger’s eyes narrowed. "Y/N Targaryen. A beauty, they said. A daughter caught in her father’s madness." He paused, his voice softening just enough to hint at something deeper. "And his lover, if the rumors are to be believed."

Varys inclined his head slightly. "More than just rumors, I’m afraid. Y/N’s fate was sealed long before the rebellion reached King’s Landing. Aerys’ obsession with her was well-known, though few dared to speak of it openly. She was both his daughter and his most prized possession, and in the end, it was her death that drove him to his final madness."

Littlefinger leaned against the throne, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest as he considered Varys’ words. "I’ve heard the stories, of course. How Tywin’s men stormed the Red Keep, how they found Y/N at Aerys’ side… and slit her throat before his eyes." He gave a small shrug, as if the brutality of the act meant little to him. "It’s always the innocent who suffer, isn’t it?"

Varys’ gaze darkened, and for a moment, his usual composure faltered. "Y/N was pregnant at the time," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "With Aerys’ third child. They didn’t just kill her—they killed the unborn child as well. Aerys watched it all happen, and it broke him. When Jaime Lannister finally put an end to Aerys, he was holding Y/N’s body, clinging to her as if she were the only thing left in the world that mattered."

Littlefinger’s eyes flickered with interest. "A tragic love story, then," he mused, though his tone was devoid of sympathy. "One could almost feel sorry for the man, if not for the fact that his madness nearly destroyed the realm."

Varys looked away, his expression unreadable. "There was a time when Aerys was a king of great promise. But power… power corrupts even the best of men. And for those born with fire in their veins, that corruption can become something far more dangerous."

Littlefinger smiled, the gesture cold and calculating. "It’s always the Targaryens, isn’t it? Fire and blood, madness and greatness—two sides of the same coin, as they say."

Varys sighed softly, his eyes fixed on the throne. "Perhaps. But the deaths of Aerys and Y/N were more than just the end of a dynasty. They were a warning, a reminder of what unchecked power can do. Of what happens when love is twisted by madness."

Littlefinger stepped away from the throne, his gaze lingering on Varys as he moved closer. "And yet, the game continues. The throne still stands, and new players take their turn. Power will always draw those willing to do whatever it takes to claim it."

Varys smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with quiet understanding. "Yes, my lord. But it’s worth remembering that even the most powerful can fall. And when they do, the consequences are far-reaching."

Littlefinger’s smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. "You’re right, Varys. Everyone falls eventually. Even kings and queens." He paused, his gaze drifting back to the throne for a moment. "But until then… the game must be played."

Varys nodded, his expression calm once more. "Indeed, Lord Baelish. The game never truly ends."

As Littlefinger turned to leave the throne room, Varys remained where he stood, his eyes fixed on the Iron Throne, the weight of history and tragedy settling over him like a shroud. The ghosts of the past still haunted this place, and though the players had changed, the stakes remained the same.

And somewhere, in the depths of Varys’ mind, the memory of Aerys and Y/N—two lives consumed by fire and madness—lingered, a reminder of the price of power.

Cersei and Tywin

Cersei stood by the window of her chambers, staring out at the city below, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The years had passed since Robert’s Rebellion, since the Mad King and his daughter, Y/N, had met their fiery end, but the bitterness that lingered within Cersei had never truly faded. The memory of that day, of her father’s decision to allow them to be burned together on the pyre, still made her blood boil.

Tywin Lannister entered the room without ceremony, his presence commanding as always, though there was a distinct chill in the air between them. Cersei didn’t turn to greet him. She didn’t need to—her father’s shadow always loomed over her, even when she wasn’t looking.

"You summoned me," Tywin said, his voice as measured and cold as ever. It wasn’t a question, but a simple statement of fact. He never spoke without a purpose, and Cersei knew he had no patience for games.

She didn’t respond right away, her eyes still fixed on the city below, the weight of her resentment pressing heavily on her chest. Finally, after a long silence, she spoke, her voice sharp and filled with the bitterness she had carried for so long. "I still don’t understand why you did it."

Tywin’s brow furrowed, though he didn’t move from where he stood. "Did what?"

Cersei turned then, her green eyes flashing with anger, with something that had festered in her for years. "Why you allowed Aerys and her to be burned together," she spat, the venom in her voice unmistakable. "Y/N Targaryen, the whore who thought she could cling to her father’s madness and get away with it."

Tywin’s expression didn’t change, though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Watch your tone, Cersei," he warned, his voice low but firm. "I did what was necessary for the realm, as I always have."

Cersei laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. "Necessary for the realm? Or necessary for your own pride?" She took a step toward him, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "You should have left their bodies to rot, to be thrown into the dirt like the traitors they were. But instead, you gave them the dignity of a pyre, as if they were worth something."

Tywin’s eyes darkened, and he stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over Cersei. "I gave them a pyre because it was the right decision," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Aerys was the last Targaryen king, and Y/N was his daughter. Their deaths had to be handled with care, or the realm would have descended into chaos. The rebellion may have ended, but the legacy of the Targaryens was not something that could be dismissed so easily."

Cersei’s lips curled in disdain, her anger barely contained. "You gave them too much," she hissed. "Y/N deserved worse. She stood by Aerys, even as he destroyed everything, even as he lost his mind. She was no better than him. And yet, you allowed them to die together, to be honored as if they were some tragic lovers."

Tywin’s expression remained unreadable, though his gaze bore into her with cold intensity. "Y/N was a pawn in Aerys’ madness," he said, his voice calm but authoritative. "She was manipulated, used, and ultimately destroyed by her father’s obsession. Her death was part of a greater tragedy, one that needed to be handled delicately."

Cersei scoffed, shaking her head. "You speak of delicacy, but all I see is weakness. You could have crushed them completely—destroyed any trace of the Targaryen name. Instead, you gave them a pyre. You gave them dignity. And for what? For the sake of appearances?"

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "You forget your place, Cersei," he said coldly. "I made the decisions that were best for House Lannister and the realm. Do not presume to question me."

Cersei’s eyes blazed with fury, her resentment spilling over. "I will question you," she snapped. "Because you’ve never seen it from my side. You’ve never understood how much I hated her. Y/N, with her silver hair and violet eyes, thinking she could claim the love of a king and still be seen as innocent." Her voice trembled with rage, old wounds that had never healed. "She was no better than her father. And yet, you allowed them to be remembered together, as if their deaths were some tragic ending to a noble house."

Tywin’s gaze hardened, and he stepped closer to her, his voice low and dangerous. "Y/N’s death was a necessary part of ending the Targaryen reign," he said slowly, each word deliberate. "But even in death, she held a place of importance. The realm needed stability, and allowing her and Aerys to be burned together ensured that no one questioned the finality of their fall. The last of the dragons, reduced to ash."

Cersei’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. "And yet you still gave them more honor than they deserved."

Tywin stared at her for a long moment, his eyes cold and calculating. "You let your hatred cloud your judgment, Cersei," he said quietly. "Y/N was nothing more than a victim of her father’s madness. Aerys destroyed everything, including her. But in the end, they were both just pieces in a larger game. A game I played, and won."

Cersei’s fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding with the weight of her anger, her resentment, and the memories of all the years that had passed since that day. She had always hated Y/N—hated the way her father had shown her even a shred of respect, hated the way the Targaryens had been allowed to die with any semblance of dignity.

But she said nothing more. The conversation had reached its end, and as always, Tywin had the last word.

Tywin turned away from her, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the door. "Let this go, Cersei," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. "There is no point in clinging to old hatreds. The Targaryens are gone. We are the future of the realm."

As the door closed behind him, Cersei stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving with the weight of her fury. She had hated Y/N then, and she hated her still—even in death. The pyre that had consumed the last of the Targaryen legacy had not been enough to quell the fire of her hatred.

And she knew, deep down, that it never would be.

Daenerys and Barristan

Daenerys found herself standing on the balcony of her chambers in Meereen, the warm breeze carrying the scent of the sea and distant fires from the city below. It was a strangely comforting smell, reminding her of her childhood in exile, of the nights spent staring out over the Narrow Sea, wondering what lay beyond. But tonight, her thoughts were far from comforting. The truth that had come to light—her true parentage—had set her mind spinning with questions and memories she had never thought to revisit.

It wasn’t just the knowledge of her parentage, but the way her mother had died—brutally, violently, in front of her father. The thought of it haunted her, and she had so many questions, questions only a few people might answer. And there was one person in her service who might have been there, who might know the truth of what happened on that fateful day.

She sent for Ser Barristan Selmy, the loyal knight who had served both her father and her family for years. He had been there, in King's Landing, in those final moments, she was certain of it. She needed to know what he had seen—what he could tell her about Y/N, her true mother.

When Ser Barristan entered her chambers, his expression was calm, though his eyes were laced with concern as he watched the girl returning inside. He had always been able to sense when something weighed on Daenerys’ mind. He bowed before her, his white hair gleaming in the candlelight.

"You sent for me, Your Grace?" he said, his voice steady, as always.

Daenerys nodded, gesturing for him to sit across from her. For a long moment, she simply studied him, wondering how to begin. Ser Barristan had always been forthright with her, but this was different. This wasn’t about strategy or battle. This was about the past—their shared history.

"Ser Barristan," she began softly, her voice carrying the weight of the question she was about to ask. "I have learned the truth… about my mother."

Barristan’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He nodded, as though he had expected this conversation eventually.

"I have been told that my true mother was not Queen Rhaella, but Y/N Targaryen," Daenerys continued, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Is this true?"

The knight was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a slow breath, he nodded. "Yes, Your Grace," he confirmed. "Y/N was your true mother. Rhaella, your grandmother, raised you as her own after Y/N… after what happened in King’s Landing."

Daenerys felt her heart tighten at the mention of it. The story Viserys had told her of Y/N’s death was brutal, and though she had always imagined her father’s end, she hadn’t known the details until now. She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling small in the enormity of the truth she had uncovered.

"And what happened to her?" she asked softly, her voice filled with quiet sorrow. "Were you there, Ser Barristan, when she was killed?"

There was a pause, and Daenerys dared to glance up at him. The old knight’s eyes were filled with something she rarely saw in him—regret, deep and profound. He shifted in his seat, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, and he spoke slowly, deliberately.

"I was in King's Landing when it happened," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of memory. "But I was not there in the throne room when your mother was killed. By the time I arrived, the Lannisters had already breached the Red Keep, and the city had fallen into chaos. Jaime Lannister…" His voice tightened. "He killed your father. But it was Tywin Lannister’s men who killed your mother."

Daenerys’ breath caught in her throat, and she leaned forward slightly, hanging on his every word. "How?" she whispered, though the answer already chilled her.

Barristan’s face darkened. "Your mother was with child when it happened. She stood by Aerys’ side until the very end, trying to calm him, trying to stop the madness. But when the Lannisters stormed the Red Keep, one of Tywin’s men grabbed her, and… he slit her throat, right in front of Aerys. She died instantly."

Daenerys closed her eyes, her heart breaking at the thought. Her mother, Y/N, had died fighting for her family, standing by Aerys even as the world crumbled around them. And she had been pregnant, carrying another child—another sibling Daenerys would never know.

"And my father?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ser Barristan shifted again, his expression grim. "Your father… Aerys… he was consumed by madness at the end, Your Grace. He screamed for his pyromancer to burn the city, to destroy everything in a final act of defiance. But Jaime Lannister killed him before he could give the order." Barristan’s voice grew quieter, almost reverent. "He died holding your mother’s body, clinging to her even in death. When Tywin found them, he allowed their bodies to be burned together."

Daenerys sat back, her chest tight with the weight of everything she had just learned. Her mother and father, burned together on a pyre in the ruins of King’s Landing. It was a cruel, tragic end to a story she hadn’t even known was hers. She had been whisked away to Dragonstone, just an infant, and now, years later, she was finally learning the truth of her family’s downfall.

"They died together," she whispered, more to herself than to Barristan.

The knight nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. They did."

Daenerys stared into the flickering flames of the candle beside her, her heart aching with the loss of a mother she had never known, and the father she had never truly understood. The stories of her father’s madness had always been in conflict with the image she had carried of him—a dragon, fierce and proud. But now, knowing how he had clung to her mother in the end, she wondered if some part of him had still been capable of love, even in the depths of his madness.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan," she said quietly, her voice steadying as she processed everything. "For telling me the truth."

Ser Barristan rose from his seat, bowing his head respectfully. "You deserved to know, Your Grace. And I am sorry… for all that you have lost."

As he left the room, Daenerys remained seated, her mind swirling with the ghosts of her past. The truth had been revealed, but it did nothing to ease the ache in her heart. Her parents, her true parents, had died in a fire of madness and betrayal, and now the only thing left to her was the path forward—the one that would lead her back to Westeros, to the Iron Throne, where she could reclaim the legacy of House Targaryen.

And for Y/N, her true mother, she would rise from the ashes and make the realm remember the blood of the dragon.

Viserys and Illyrio

Viserys paced back and forth in the low lit room, the rich tapestries and fine silks draped over the walls doing little to calm the storm that had been brewing inside him for days. His heart beat heavily in his chest, anger simmering just beneath the surface as he mulled over the many slights and indignities he had suffered. But it wasn’t just the loss of his birthright that weighed on him tonight. It was something deeper, something far more unsettling.

He had always known that Illyrio Mopatis had secrets—he could see it in the man’s calculating eyes, in the way he spoke of the past with a vague, elusive familiarity. But what the magister had promised to reveal tonight went beyond anything Viserys had ever imagined.

"Are you ready to hear it, Your Grace?" Illyrio’s voice, smooth and persuasive, broke through Viserys’ thoughts. The large, imposing figure of the Pentoshi magister loomed nearby, his gold rings glinting in the candlelight as he poured two cups of wine. "The truth of your birth. Of who you truly are."

Viserys stopped pacing, his silver-gold hair falling into his eyes as he turned to face Illyrio. He had been impatient for this conversation, had demanded answers about his family, about the whispers that had haunted him since he was a boy. But now, standing on the edge of knowing, he felt an unexpected tremor of unease.

"What truth?" Viserys asked, his voice sharp but betraying the hint of uncertainty that had begun to creep into his mind. "What are you talking about, Illyrio?"

Illyrio handed Viserys one of the cups of wine, gesturing for him to sit. "Please, Your Grace. You should be seated for this."

Viserys remained standing for a moment, defiant, before slowly sinking into the chair, his eyes fixed on Illyrio. The magister took a seat across from him, his heavy frame settling into the cushions with a groan, his expression thoughtful.

"You were born as Viserys Targaryen," Illyrio began slowly, his voice gentle but deliberate. "You were told you are the son of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella, the last true scions of the Targaryen line. That much is true in part, but not entirely."

Viserys narrowed his eyes, suspicion flaring up in his chest. "What do you mean ‘in part’? My father was Aerys. My mother was Rhaella. My sister, Daenerys—"

Illyrio raised a hand, silencing him. "Daenerys is your sister, yes. But your mother was not Rhaella. Nor was she Daenerys’ mother."

Viserys stared at him, his mind reeling. "What are you saying?"

Illyrio took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "Your true mother was Y/N Targaryen. Aerys’ daughter. She was your father’s… favorite."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and Viserys felt as though the ground had been ripped from beneath him. He stood abruptly, knocking the cup of wine from the table, the liquid spilling across the floor in a dark stain.

"That's impossible!" Viserys shouted, his voice trembling with rage and confusion. "Y/N was my sister, Aerys’ daughter—she couldn’t have been—" He stopped, unable to form the words, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief. "She wasn’t my mother."

Illyrio remained calm, his hands resting on his large belly as he watched Viserys process the revelation. "I know it’s difficult to accept, but it’s the truth. Y/N was your mother, and Aerys was both your father and your grandsire."

Viserys turned away, his hands running through his hair as his breath came in ragged gasps. It felt as though the world was spinning, as though everything he had ever known had been shattered in an instant. "And Daenerys?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Is she…?"

"She is Y/N’s daughter as well," Illyrio confirmed. "Y/N gave birth to Daenerys on Dragonstone, just as she had you. After the fall of King’s Landing, Varys whisked her away with you across the sea, to keep you both safe from Robert’s wrath."

Viserys collapsed back into the chair, his body trembling as he tried to make sense of the information. His mother… had been his sister. The thought made his stomach twist, his mind rebelling against the idea. Aerys, the father he had idolized as a child, the man who had been revered as the last true king of Westeros, had kept this dark truth from him all along.

After a long silence, Viserys turned to Illyrio, his voice quieter but filled with barely suppressed emotion. "Tell me how they died," he whispered, his hands clenching into fists. "Tell me the truth."

Illyrio sighed, his face taking on a somber expression. "Aerys was betrayed. You know that. Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, drove a sword through his back as he gave the order to burn King’s Landing. But before Aerys was killed, Y/N…" Illyrio hesitated, as if the words were difficult to say.

Viserys’ heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching as he waited for the truth he had long feared.

"Y/N was killed first," Illyrio continued, his voice softer now, as though the memory pained him. "She stood by his side when Tywin Lannister’s men stormed the Red Keep. One of them… slit her throat. Aerys watched it happen."

Viserys swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as the weight of the words hit him like a blow to the chest. He could picture it—the Red Keep in chaos, fire and blood, his mother, his sister, standing before Aerys, her life snuffed out before his eyes. "And he… he didn’t stop it?"

"Aerys tried to fight," Illyrio said quietly, shaking his head. "He screamed for the pyromancer to burn the city, to destroy everything in a final act of madness, but Jaime Lannister killed him before the order could be given. Aerys died holding Y/N’s body in his arms. Even in death, he clung to her. When Tywin found them, he allowed their bodies to be burned together on a pyre, much to Robert Baratheon’s disgust."

Viserys was silent for a long time, the shock of it all settling over him like a suffocating weight. His mother—Y/N—had died in front of his father, and he had never known. He had never been given the chance to mourn her, to understand the truth of what had happened.

The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the crackling of the hearthfire. Illyrio watched Viserys carefully, knowing that the young Targaryen’s mind was now filled with questions, doubts, and a deep, simmering anger.

Finally, Viserys spoke, his voice low but filled with a quiet, burning intensity. "I will take back what is mine. For her. For all of us."

Illyrio nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And you will have your chance, Your Grace. The realm still remembers the dragon, even if it trembles at its memory."

But Viserys wasn’t listening anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the image of his mother and father—dying together in a ruined throne room, their legacy lost to fire and blood.

Joffrey and Margaery

The Sept of Baelor loomed over them as Joffrey guided Margaery through the grand, stone hallways, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. The flickering light of candles cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of incense hung heavy in the air. It was a place of reverence, where the bones and ashes of kings and queens were laid to rest, but there was something unsettling about Joffrey’s demeanor as he led his bride-to-be deeper into the heart of the sept.

Margaery, ever composed, smiled softly at her king as they walked, though she could sense the tension in his movements, the excited energy that simmered beneath his boyish grin. She had learned quickly how to read Joffrey, to anticipate his moods, and today, something darker lurked beneath the surface.

"This is one of my favorite places in the city," Joffrey said suddenly, his voice sharp and high with enthusiasm. "A place where the history of Westeros is written in bones and ash."

Margaery tilted her head, feigning interest. "It is a place of great history," she replied gently, her voice measured. "Many kings and queens are honored here."

Joffrey nodded, clearly pleased by her response. "Yes! The great monarchs of House Targaryen, those so-called dragons." He spat the word, a sneer twisting his lips as they approached a series of alcoves where urns were kept, marked with plaques of names long since forgotten by most. "They once ruled everything. Fire and blood, they said. But in the end, they burned like anyone else."

They stopped before an alcove near the end of the row, where two intricately carved urns were placed side by side. Joffrey’s smile widened as he gestured toward the urns, his voice filled with glee. "This is where they keep the ashes of the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen, and his daughter, Y/N. They were burned together after Robert’s Rebellion. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you?"

Margaery’s eyes lingered on the urns, her mind racing as she tried to follow Joffrey’s sudden shift in tone. She had heard the stories, of course—everyone had. But there was something unsettling in the way Joffrey spoke about it, as though it were a tale of triumph, of cruelty rewarded. She smiled softly, keeping her voice calm. "Yes, Your Grace. They are well-known."

Joffrey laughed, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet of the sept. "But do you know the real story?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light. He took a step closer to the urns, his voice lowering conspiratorially, as though sharing a secret meant only for her. "Aerys was mad, of course. Everyone knows that. He wanted to burn the entire city, to let the wildfire consume everything. But it wasn’t just him, you know."

He gestured toward the urn that held Y/N’s ashes, his smile twisting into something darker. "His daughter, Y/N, she was just as mad as he was. She stood by him, loyal to the end. They say she loved him in ways a daughter shouldn’t love her father. It’s sickening, isn’t it?"

Margaery swallowed, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her gown as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "That… is not how I have heard the story," she said carefully, her voice measured.

Joffrey waved a hand dismissively. "Of course not. They want to make her a victim, but she wasn’t. She stood by him, even when the Lannisters stormed the Red Keep. When Tywin’s men found her, she was still defending that madman, even though he was raving about burning them all alive." He leaned in closer, his eyes wide with glee as he recounted the tale. "Do you know what they did to her?"

Margaery shook her head slightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized where this was going.

"They slit her throat right in front of him," Joffrey said with a grin, as if sharing a delightful joke. "Aerys was covered in her blood, holding her like she was his lover. And even then, all he cared about was burning the city. Can you imagine? Watching your daughter die in your arms, and all you can think about is setting everything on fire."

Margaery’s breath caught, her stomach twisting in revulsion at the way Joffrey seemed to take pleasure in the gruesome details. He stepped back, looking at the urns as if they were trophies, a reminder of his family’s triumph over the Targaryens.

"They burned together, in the end," Joffrey continued, his voice gleeful. "Grandsire had their bodies placed on the same pyre, like some tragic love story. Isn’t that sweet?" His smile faded for a moment, replaced by a scowl. "But they weren’t lovers. They were mad. And they died like the madmen they were."

Margaery forced a smile, her mind racing as she tried to keep her composure. "A tragic end, indeed," she said softly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil she felt inside.

Joffrey’s mood shifted again, his smile returning as he turned to her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "One day, I’ll be the one they remember, Margaery," he said, his voice filled with pride. "The one who put an end to the last of the dragons."

He reached out, taking her hand in his, the pressure of his grip uncomfortably tight. Margaery smiled up at him, her heart pounding, knowing full well that Joffrey’s thirst for cruelty and power would only grow with time. But she had learned how to play this game, how to survive in the dangerous world she had chosen to inhabit.

"As you should be, Your Grace," she said softly, her voice smooth and practiced. "You will be remembered as the greatest king Westeros has ever known."

Joffrey beamed at her words, his grip loosening just enough for her to pull her hand away without him noticing. He turned back to the urns, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as if the ashes of Aerys and Y/N were nothing more than relics of a forgotten era—one that had been crushed beneath the weight of the Iron Throne.

And as they left the Sept of Baelor, Margaery couldn’t shake the cold knot of dread that had settled deep in her stomach, knowing that Joffrey’s thirst for power and cruelty would only continue to grow.

The servents

The soft murmur of servants echoed through the halls of the Red Keep as the younger attendants went about their duties, the clang of dishes and the shuffle of feet filling the air. In the far corner of the kitchen, an older servant, her back bent with age, quietly polished a stack of silver plates. Her movements were slow but precise, the wisdom of years in her every gesture. Her gnarled hands moved with practiced ease, though her eyes—cloudy with age—seemed far away, as though seeing something beyond the present.

A younger servant, a girl no older than sixteen, stood nearby, wiping her hands on her apron nervously. She had been with the royal household for only a short while and had heard the whispers, the stories that floated through the Red Keep like ghosts from another time. But today, with her curiosity gnawing at her, she decided to speak.

She stepped closer to the old servant, her voice hesitant as she broke the silence. "Old Nan," she said, addressing the woman with the name the younger servants had given her, though her real name had been long forgotten by many. "Is it true? What they say about the Mad King and his daughter?"

Old Nan paused for a moment, her hands stilling over the silver plate in her lap. She didn’t look up immediately, but the girl could see the tension in her fingers, the way they tightened just slightly over the plate. When she finally spoke, her voice was raspy, like the creak of old wood, but there was a weight to her words, a heaviness that made the younger girl lean in closer.

"You’ve been listening to the wrong sorts of people, child," Old Nan muttered, setting the plate down with a soft clink. "There’s always been talk about the Targaryens. Fire and blood, they say. And madness runs in their veins, or so the lords and ladies tell themselves."

The younger servant bit her lip, shifting nervously. "But… I’ve heard the other servants say strange things. About King Aerys. And his daughter, Y/N. They say…" She hesitated, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "They say she wasn’t just his daughter. That he… did things to her. That she stood by him even when he went mad."

Old Nan finally looked up, her eyes narrowing as she studied the girl. There was a long, heavy silence before she spoke again, this time with more steel in her voice. "Be careful what you say, girl," she warned. "There’s truth in some tales, but not all of it."

The younger girl swallowed hard, but she pressed on. "But you were here, weren’t you? You served in the Red Keep when King Aerys ruled. You must have seen things."

Old Nan sighed, her eyes drifting to the distant shadows of the kitchen, as if the past were playing out in front of her once again. "Aye," she said quietly. "I was here. I served him, just like all the others. But what I saw… it’s not a story you’d want to hear."

The younger servant’s heart pounded in her chest, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear. "Please," she whispered. "I need to know."

Old Nan was silent for a long moment, her mind clearly caught in the web of memories she had long tried to forget. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, as though she were afraid the walls might hear her.

"King Aerys was mad, that much is true," she said slowly. "He was once a proud man, a king with ambition, but something dark took hold of him in the later years. He trusted no one. He saw enemies everywhere, even among his closest friends. The burnings…" She shook her head, her voice trailing off. "I saw them. I saw what he did to those who displeased him. He called it justice, but it was madness, plain and simple."

The younger girl shivered at the thought of the burnings, of the terrible things she had heard whispered about the Mad King’s cruelty.

"And what about Y/N?" the girl asked softly. "What happened to her?"

Old Nan’s expression hardened, and for a moment, it looked as though she wouldn’t answer. But then, slowly, she began to speak again. "Y/N…" she said, her voice heavy with something deeper than just sorrow. "She was the light of the court once. A beauty, they said. The jewel of the Targaryen line. But she was her father’s daughter, through and through. He doted on her, more than was proper, more than was right. She could do no wrong in his eyes."

The younger servant leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. "Did he… love her? In that way?"

Old Nan’s gaze darkened. "He loved her in a way no father should love his daughter," she said bluntly, her tone sharp. "There were rumors, of course. Whispers in the halls, behind closed doors. But it wasn’t until the rebellion, when the end came, that the truth became clear."

The girl’s hands trembled slightly, but she couldn’t stop now. "What happened in the throne room? Is it true… that they died together?"

Old Nan’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and sadness. "Aye. They died together. But it wasn’t some grand tragedy, no matter what the lords and ladies say. When the Lannisters stormed the Red Keep, they found Y/N standing by her father’s side, even as he raved about burning the city. She stood by him until the end, just like he wanted. One of Tywin’s men slit her throat right in front of him. She was with child when it happened."

The girl gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. "She was pregnant?"

Old Nan nodded grimly. "Aye. With Aerys’ child, no doubt. She was loyal to him until the very end, even when it cost her everything."

The younger servant’s stomach turned at the thought, her mind racing with the terrible realization of what had truly happened in that throne room all those years ago.

"And King Aerys?" the girl asked, her voice trembling.

Old Nan’s gaze fell to the floor. "He died holding her body," she said quietly. "Even in death, he clung to her like she was all that was left of his madness. Jaime Lannister put an end to him, but by then, Aerys was already lost."

The younger girl felt a cold shiver run down her spine, the weight of the truth settling over her like a heavy cloak. She had heard the stories, the rumors, but to hear it from someone who had been there, who had seen it all unfold—there was a horror in it that words could barely capture.

Old Nan sighed, her hands resuming their slow, methodical polishing of the silver plates. "The Targaryens were fire and blood, child," she said softly, her voice filled with the weariness of age. "But sometimes, that fire burns too bright. And when it does, it consumes everything in its path."

The younger servant stood in stunned silence, her mind reeling from what she had just learned. The story of the Mad King and his daughter was not just a tale of madness—it was a tragedy born of twisted love and the ruin it brought to those who lived in its shadow.

As she turned to leave the kitchen, the weight of the past heavy on her shoulders, Old Nan’s voice called out to her once more.

"Remember this, girl," she said quietly, her eyes dark and solemn. "No matter how much fire you carry in your blood, it always leaves ashes behind."

[b1asho]

Oougghhhh I'm BACK, FINALLY !!

Anyway, say hello to the Drecu (Dorest and Rox), one of the two species in the genus of sophonts known as the Cerest (the other guys are coming up next, they're taller and considerably more violent than the average bug lizard) Here's the info I couldn't cram into the image:

This group is called Drecu, whereas the other type is called Sundyne (Seru is the name for Sundyne royalty/their idea of the best life form)

Dorest and Rox are both under the Drecu classification, and are more closely related to their common ancestor than the Sundyne.

They have very different appearances, but they are unisex, with each individual having the capabilities of insemination and gestation.

Their dimorphism is based on what tasks they do in the colony, essentially splitting them between “”worker”” and “”soldier”” rather than male and female.

Rox are considerably larger, have thicker shells and scales, mildly venomous quills on their arms and back, and have a large thumb claw on their hands to aid in grappling and slicing.

The venom is released once the quill is detatched, as the separation causes a muscle around the sac at the quills base to spasm and send it out the tip.

It has little to no irritating effect on non-Cerest, but if one of their own is barbed it will cause localized numbness and pain/swelling elsewhere as the venom takes effect. Several quills in rapid succession has been known to be debilitating for Dorest.

They have more sensitive hearing gained through the large discs on their forehead that catch vibrations in the air. Their eyesight is worse, however, with two of their eyes being small and fixed on their forehead, mostly motion-based. Their mandibles are larger, sharper, and they sacrifice space for an ear canal in favor of more room for muscles to make the jaws as powerful as possible. When closed, the mandibles fold around the upper and lower beak to give the illusion of cheeks. Their palps fill in the gap between the bigger mandible and upper jaw, and are used to manipulate food. they also have two ‘teeth’ near the back of their mouth and throat that they vibrate their palps against and snap to speak (combined with another structure in their throat that sort of acts like vocal cords thatvtheybuse to make larger sounds).

The teeth also help them break apart hard foods like bone and other organisms exoskeleton.

Due to their larger body size/space for eggs, tendency to stay within their territory rather than forage elsewhere daily, and ability to defend themselves, Rox are often the ones who gets the eggs transferred to them for brief gestation.

Dorest are smaller, with longer legs and tail. They have stamina and speed, but aren’t really that strong, instead relying on their numbers to get things done. Their mandibles are weaker smaller, and duller but their palps are more developed and dexterous, and cover their mouth opening entirely. They speak in the same way as Rox, but they sound more high pitched.

It is unknown how naturally all of these very extremely different traits evolved since they have a storied history of genetic manipulation and experimentation on their populace (and a storied history if deleting that history from history)

Anyways as you can imagine their sex and gender can get pretty complicated. Due to how their units were originally structured (with social power coming from reproductive rights and number of children) and resulting current social reinforcement/emphasis on role division into the D and R binary , they dont actually recognize a 'neutral' or 'dual' identity despite being physically that way (similarly, trying to switch between or out of your literally assigned bio type and/or role is a big no) this is largely due to their newer Sundyne leaders, who Aren't unisex and want to put their version of the binary on everything.

For them, sex is who tops and who bottoms. They can't self fertilize but both have eggs n sperm, and would naturally both uhh transfer that, but instead their role decides who does what with what,for both population control and to conform to aforementioned mf binary that dont naturally have. Only one incubates at a time, pretty much. Dorest are usually the one who inseminates, giving the eggs over for a time, but they care for offspring once the eggs are laid/ hatch so the Rox is free again to go about their business.

The two have a power dynamic, of course. Dorest are seen as the givers, while are seen as takers, in a more powerful position. Idk I'll have to do a whole separate thing on it later.

They have a specific pronoun for each role in the unit (which can further be split into their individual rank/occupation)

For example, in the absence of a Rox, a Dorest could take up the matriarch/arch pronouns and start acting like one, and vice versa (though this is not taken seriously at All by their peers, and is even illegal in most cases)

Both have antennae that help them send and receive pheremone signals that also play into their communication. These signals typically convey more basic emotions and needs, but can have a very strong effect on the individual (for example, an extreme 'hurt' or 'scared' signal from another Drecu causes similar anxiety and stress to those around them, and may even trigger an attack response towards the source.) Their scales and areas under their shell are also full of chromatophores that they can color in specific areas and patterns to convey some words or emotions. Their eyes can pick up colors that ours can’t, so often these colors changes look very minute to us (or more muted than they actually are). The unique verbal and nonverbal signals they use make their languages hard to speak or even understand, since they can “say” something to you that you can’t see or smell. They have these nonvocal modes of communication because their vocal ability is pretty limited overall. When they do vocally speak, it sounds like a human but with a voice filter (and with lots more clicking and less resonation. They almost sound like robots with their voice coming from a broken speaker)

All Cerest go through several distinct life stages after hatching, beginning as small defenseless grub things. Once they accumulate enough stored fat, they sprout spindly blueprints of their legs and arms and start to move around more independently (these limbs and tail extensions will pretty much become their bones later) They will then continue to store energy until they go through a full metamorphosis .

The prepupa will become more active, running around to align the new limb sprouts it has and to start sucking up the rest of their organs into what was their throax region. At a certain time, they will join other prepupa in a communal chamber and incase themself into a chrysalis made from a layer of skin they grow around themselves.

They'll use their previous exoskeleton/limbs/ etc to form the more complex adult lattices of endo/exo skeleton and skin/muscles/organs that will allow them to grow larger and walk upright. This is also when their brain grows more and settles in, allowing for more complex thought.

When in the chrysalis, adults around them will ‘choose’ whether they will grow into a Dorest or Rox by introducing certain chemicals through the spiracles. This decision can be influenced by a variety of factors, including the politics of the family unit.

Once they emerge, they will grow more like a reptile/crab by shedding and molting parts of their scales and shell (often aided by hot water because they’re so big. Whether their ancestors were water based is unknown, since they have removed or altered their own evolutionary history so much that no one really knows).

Speaking of that, their adult body support system is a bit convoluted (thanks to them evolving from a purely exoskeletal species that nature never intended to get all that big)

Thankfully, it's a lot less heavy than it should because of its composition of lightweight and durable carbons (with some calcium carbonate thrown in there too).

They have plates that range from hard and thick to thin and flexible that make up a segmented outer shell that is present over all their body.

It is what they molt and is primarily used for muscle attachment in their limbs, but it mostly just covers the rest of their body elsewhere.

This is because they also have a disconnected internal tube and chamber system mainly in their head, tail, neck, and torso for more places for their muscles to attach to while maintaining that bipedal stance and organ placement.

They don’t/can’t replenish these through a molting process, and instead they’re maintained from the inside more like our bones.

The rest of their body grows and shrinks around them (though limited by the outer shell on top). Gaining fat or muscle on the arms and limbs has a limit due to the shell, but on the torso they can more easily do so thanks to a third main structural layer they have:

In between the shell and the internal structures, they have a thin skin/scales layer, which can be seen best joining the gaps between the hardest and most prominent parts of their outer shell as it covers the thinner plates underneath (some places on their abdomen, the underside of their tail, the front of their neck, and several places on their face. )

This is derived from the chrysalis layer that they grew, and when they emerge it softens and wraps them.

As it dries, it dies everywhere except the edges/gaps of the outer shell, where it stays somewhat vascularized as it attaches to the edges while the outer shell is still hardening .

This layer allows for fat storage under it and prevents everything from slipping out when they molt in areas where the outer shell isn’t actually attached to anything/ is not fully encapsulating on its own.

they shed this every so often after a new one grows from underneath to replenish it since the blood flow isn’t great. Molting becomes very infrequent after pupation, usually only happening perhaps 2-3 times (maybe 4 for Rox) in their teenage years until they stop growing. There isn't a particular age for this, since some can experience spurts later on or conversely were intentionally malnourished to stay s certain size, which is common among their under classes.

On that note, molting only happens as an adult due to extreme changes in size (for example, moving up to a reproductive position can cause an increase in size from the hormones, particularly in Rox, which can trigger a molt of the outer shell to make room.)

The population tends to be more Dorest than Rox, though this balance often shifts during wartime as more offspring are converted to Rox.

Their society is divided into distinct layers, but on a basic family unit level there is usually a lead Rox, their harem of Dorest, and then their children, following am almost eusocial strcutre.

Often, there can also be subservient Rox that are non-reproductive and serve a more grunt/foot soldier role.

Units are interconnected, and eventually become a part of larger caste divisions based on their labor skills. This happened over a long period of time, since they're naturally very competitive with each other and mixing units without specific conditions being met can end badly.

These divisions are shown through clothing and ear piercings that display the symbol that corresponds to their status, but they also etch the symbol onto their forehead. This is a permanent alteration to their scale color, and is usually done in black since all Drecu are ultimately under a Sundyne no matter their own rank.

Drecu are omnivorous, though both types tend to lean towards meat due to their higher calorie needs (Rox and gravid Dorest especially, for muscle and egg building.)

They don’t chew their food and just swallow it in chunks.

Their antenna house their sense of taste as well as smell, so they can pretty much choose to not taste anything they eat by covering them or not touching them to their food.

Culturally, they are conditioned to prefer processed food (that is easy to make and distribute among their often large populations) their cuisine more focused more on meeting basic needs than being enjoyable or helping them thrive (like a lot of dog foods XD ) along with pretty much everything else (from education to housing)

Food/nutrition access is stratified by caste, so along with their other clothing and tattoo signifiers you can also tell who’s more important based on if they have glossier scales and brighter colors.

Ill get into this more below in the section on their blood chemistry, but they have a silly little expensive metabolism makes food a very effective tool for leaders to keep under classes subservient, since it’s pretty easy to control people who rely on you to keep them functioning, and their thoughts also tend to slow to a crawl without the necessary energy.

Resource control also gives a distinct physical difference between classes, like I mentioned a second ago with the colors and shell size/quality.

Their tails, for example, are made from the hardened tube remnants of the segments of their abdomen chamber when they were larva and prepupa.

With enough nutrients throughout their teenage molts, it will spread out those 4 main internal segments with the outer shell and more muscle into a longer or thicker tail.

Without, it will be shorter and thinner since the segments themselves are smaller and closer together (in some cases staying the same length as their prepupa size since they need it closer for their more limited muscle and shell to hold onto.)

The smaller tails alongside their paler colors also gives under classes a more child-like and therefore disreputable and subservient look, furthering the divide.

Housing and other basic needs are naturally borderline impossible to access unless you're a part of a functioning unit, and if not, good luck. There are no individuals in the colony, a downside as well as one of heir strengths.

They are somewhat able to regulate their body temperature through shivering, their own metabolic heat, and their hair-like filaments on their head, but are more susceptible to temperature change since they can’t store fat well as adults due to their shell. Their horns are mostly for display and general head protection, and are pretty hollow.

Dorest hands have two main digits that operate in a pincer motion, and while the other 4 are separate they are smaller and in an opposable thumb-like position , aiding with holding things and other manipulation (kind of like if your whole hand was just your index and middle finger and 4 thumbs).

Their claws are nonretractable and closer to nails. As for their feet, they’re just hooves made from the fused toes.

Rox also have the two pincer digits, but their other fingers have fused into a larger “thumb” tipped with a thick claw that they use for fighting. Their other claws are much smaller and also nonretractable. Their foot has 2 hoofed digits and one with a dull claw for kicking (like if a cassowary was also a deer. And red.)

Their blood uses two iron-based carriers: chlorocruorin in transport cells and hemerythrin that floats free in the bloodstream, which respectively gives their blood a green and/or purple color.

As their ancestors got bigger and evolved an active respiratory and circulatory system as opposed do just having spiracles/air sacs, they also started using a secondary blood chemistry to support their original, single one.

The hemerythrin works across a general range of temperatures and oxygen concentrations, widening the range of environments they can live in, but despite the cooperative binding with each other it’s very inefficient.

Thus, it takes a lot of effort and resources for them to use it, part of the reason behind their relentless expansion into new territory for new food sources etc (their body functions like metabolism will slow down and speed up accordingly, and they’re able to strip pretty much every bit of energy form the stuff they eat due to a highly effective digestive system, but due to the limited ability to store fats for later and difficulty in breaking down their own muscles for energy without collapsing their whole skeleton, them coping with scarcity essentially means going into a coma.)

Despite this, it comes with the added benefit of giving them better and faster cell regeneration and healing (through the Bohr effect and because of its potency as an immune effector), as well as immunity to carbon monoxide poisoning (due to its low affinity for that molecule, which is helpful since chlorocruorin has a high affinity for it, which helps prevent excess buildup. They also convert any access CO into material for their shells and scales. ) and nitrogen stress/decompression sickness (again, low affinity etc).

The chlorocruorin helps them in the cooler and low oxygen environments where they originated, and in mitigating the resource cost of relying more on hemerythrin while still benefitting from it.

It also needs support from the hemerythrin when anywhere too hot (where there are more resources, and where the heat helps them with sustained activity/not wasting resources on body heat, and gives them freedom to live anywhere in the wide temp range on their original planet ).

So, they are perfectly fine in cold environments and environments where humans would be fainting from too little oxygen, but could run into problems if things get too hot (as opposed to Kixeli, who have problems when things get too cold even though their blood pigment works better at cooler temperatures, because they’re entirely exothermic and evolved more reliance on the ever-present heat on their home planet for making their body functions more efficient)

As far as interactions with other species goes, it's not that great. They believe that the universe's rock tumbler of events smoothed them out into the perfect organisms, and they've chosen to make that everyone elses problem.

(Using their wormhole technology and greater foothold in space/the being-a-sentient-species game in general, they created a system-spanning empire that originally contacted and 'uplifted' the other species I've shared so far) (by uplifted i mean subjugated btw) (however, this was done under the leadership of the only other species with a worse track record, their cousins, the Sundyne.)

I'm doing them next, followed by the last species !! Who knows when that will happen, but it will.

Yippee!!

[trancylovecraft]

So, I just met you today with the Cherry Blossom Kokushibo fic and, you know, I just fell in love with your writing

I've had this idea in my mind for a while and when I read your fanfic I just knew you were the perfect person to put it into words

May I request an Oneshot with Muzan Kibutsuji/Fem reader? So, I've imagined for a while a fanfic where Muzan encounters a female reader who suffers from albinism, having very pale skin, white hair and natural red eyes. Because she was born like that, people rumored her to be a demon (sensibility to sunlight and red eyes aggravated that), and that caused her to be isolated from all and unable to wed. She is from a noble family and that is why she's still alive, but that doesn't soothe the wound since her family treats her like an outcast.

Bitter with resentment, under the moonlight of the bedroom, she curses all of those who waste their health living mundane lives while she suffers in loneliness. Her nihilism, indifference and hate makes her unafraid of Muzan as, if she thinks he will devour her, she asks for him to at least kill her family too. Little does she know that Kibutsuji already knows her, and he is infatuated with her. (If he wants to wed her and turn her into a demon she ain't complaining, especially if their engagement is celebrated with a bit of family massacre)

This idea was inspired by spider lillies, moonlight and the fact that I'd like to imagine Muzan with someone who resembles him when he was a human (Narcisistic King would only date those who remind him of himself)

I apologise if this request is too long for your liking, I am not very good with words and simplifying something I am excited about!

- the banana split jane doe

(KNY) YANDERE MUZAN x ALBINO READER: The Light Side of the Moon

(DW, I gotchu girlie. Hope you enjoy this one!)

The sun's rays shone down onto the overgrown field.

The rays seemed to reflect off of every grass strand and every drop of dew fell from the rain the night before.

It was a beautiful day despite the heavy rain last night, So much so that in the early hours of the morning the village kids had left early to run around in the grass and play dirty. Of course they would, It was getting into the colder months as indicated by the chilling breeze running through the valley. The children had to make use of every wake of sunlight before the snow came in.

So out in the field there was a good group of kids in the dozens play fighting and playing tag, Not giving mind to the dirtying of their kimono's and haori's. Their laughter rang out and bounced around like they were in a cave.

"Stupid.." [F/N] muttered, A bitter resentment lacing her voice like venom as she looked out at all the kids running wild in the valley.

She sat perched under the big zelkova tree overlooking the entire valley. It's branches were large and it's leaves were enough in number to filter out any sunlight passing through it, A perfect condition for the girl.

[F/N] sat right up against the tree for support as she brushed her hair with her fingers. Her locks were pure white, So was her skin. It wasn't like the kids who had pale skin nor was her hair light like the occasional person with a story, But instead something much more extreme.

When [F/N] was born she was diagnosed with albinism. According to the doctor who delivered her, Her mother had screamed in disgust at the sight of her while her father had demanded to know who she cheated on him with.

Her father wanted to kill her, He couldn't stand to look at such a horrid child. He wanted to throw her out into the river and hope nature took its course, However, He was fortunately stopped by the mere fact that they were noble blood and had already told the village-people the birth was successful. Killing her now would only severely damage reputation. Therefore letting her live.

From that day forward she was considered bad luck.

The local folklore was that albinism was a curse from an ancestor to atone for wrongdoings done in their time. It was an omen of death, Also known as: Something to avoid.

And the locals took it to heart. Every time [F/N] would walk down the street, Every time she'd go out to the market she'd get stares, Heckled and harassed her when she walked. Suddenly the prices at the market would go up, Just for her.

It didn't help that the consequences that came with the defect definetly made it seem like a curse. Due to the complete lack of melanin anywhere the sun scorched her skin like fire, Leaving her needing to take special precaution when leaving the house. Her eyesight wasn't the best either, Though it was much better than the normal person with albinism she still did have trouble seeing at times.

The past two months didn't help her case either, With the recent mutilations of the-

A rock slammed into the side of [F/N]'s head, Making her double over onto the grass. The sound of a couple children cheering rang out from down the hill. She hissed in pain.

"Take that, Demon!" One of the boys said, Having been the one who threw the rock. [F/N] clutched the side of her head where the impact hit. She could feel the early gathering of blood start to stain her pristine kept hair.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" [F/N] screamed.

Pushing her body back up to look at the group of kids with an absolutely furious expression. The kids stood strong however, Only taking a few meek steps towards her.

"Leave our families alone!" Another one shouted, A girl this time. Her face was angry too, Only as much as a young child's could look. The other kids who weren't involved in the group stopped playing to watch the scene.

The mutilations, Of course. They started around two months ago with the Furukawa family. It was awful, One of their elderly neighbours had picked up a rotten smell and had asked her son to go check on them. Of course they came across both the mother and the father's pieces spread across the Livingroom.

[F/N] was familiar with the two, They had often been one of the more outspoken village people about their dislike of her and a few days before had shoved her aside while she was walking around.

She knew she should of shown some kind of emotion at the news of their slaughter, But to be honest, [F/N] didn't care. If anything, She felt a small tinge of relief.

They weren't there to harass her anymore, Or make off-hand remarks. For that she was glad.

"I never touched your stupid families!" [F/N] yelled back at her. Her deep vermillion eyes were filled with disgust like she was staring down an insect she could crush under the sole of her sandals.

"Liar!" Another one of the kids stepped out from behind the small group. He wasn't one of the bigger ones, He was in fact rather scrawny with unkempt hair. But [F/N] recognised him as the Furukawa's youngest kid.

"M-My parents died because of you.." He muttered, Looking down at his shoes unable to meet [F/N]'s eyes. His hands clenched into a determined fist, His body shook with vigour.

"They were great people! You had no right to take them away from me. Just because the other adults don't see you as the demon you are doesn't mean we don't!" He yelled back at her. The other kids joined in with supportive remarks following his speech.

"One day, When I get older I'll get revenge for them. I'll get re-" A rock slammed straight into his open jaw.

The kid screamed and fell to the floor with a loud thud!

The other kids yelped and backed away from the boy, Who was coughing up teeth and blood. He writhed around on the ground groaning in pain.

[F/N] was standing up now. She had picked up the rock that was thrown at her and flung it right back at the kid. She stood there seething in a fighting stance.

"Demon? I'll show you demon!" [F/N] yelled. She swiftly grabbed another rock and hurled it straight at the girl who chose to speak out, Hitting her straight on the forehead with a sick crunch.

The previously silent kids amplified into an uproar.

Screaming echoed around in the valley as all the kids tried to get away from the ensuing fight. [F/N] kept picking up rocks from the small hill and hurling them at the group. The kids who started the fight tried to haul away the two kids who got the worst of it, Picking them up by the arms trying to drag them away from the attacks.

"DON'T YOU EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN OR IT'LL BE YOU NEXT! I SWEAR TO THE GODS IT'LL BE YOU!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice hitting high's that could be heard from the village.

The kids had gotten a good distance away from her now but that didn't stop [F/N] from throwing more stones.

"YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!" She yelled after them, Raising another rock to throw.

But by the time she had finished they had all scampered away back home.

She was left standing on top of the hill, Under the shade of the big zelkova tree, Looking out over the now empty and desolate field which had such a lively energy before but now was cold and lost.

She was panting, Letting out heavy breaths of air that turned into mist in the cold climate. The rock in her hand she was about to throw lowered, Dropping it to the ground. She exhaled for a final time, Letting all the anger and rage dissolve into mild annoyance she finally relaxed.

"Dumb kids.." She huffed. Shaking her head she leaned down to pick up the thick birch handle of her parasol.

Grabbing it she extended the blue patterned canopy, Making sure it covered her form she dusted herself off. Settling the parasol handle on her shoulder she set off out into the valley, Dreading her walk back home.

☆♡☆

"That was a horrible thing you did"

[F/N]'s mother stood a few feet away from her, Circling around her like a predator yet keeping a good enough distance to test the acidic waters. [F/N] felt her teeth grind against each other and her palms get sweaty.

Of course, The kids from earlier had ran back to her house to snitch on her to her mother. Well, Not the kids but the parents of the girl and the eldest brother of the Furukawa family being rightfully angry.

[F/N] was made aware of this when she came home at the first sign of the sun setting. Her mother was perched on the large porch of their family home waiting for [F/N]'s arrival, From the first time [F/N] spotted her mother she could of mistaken smoke from coming out of her ears.

It was frustrating, While she figured her mother would find out eventually it didn't take anything away from the experience. Though, She supposed she was lucky.

Her father being a noble and very highly profiled swordsman meant he was disciplined, And it also meant he expected that from all his children. Luckily enough though he was out on a very long business trip. If he was here, [F/N] knew that she'd get more than a serious lecture.

"So what? They attacked me first, It's only karma what they got" [F/N] responded, Her voice trying to stay levelled and calm yet shook at the seams. Her mother scoffed at that.

"They're just kids, [F/N]! They don't know any better and you should have taken that into account" Her mother exclaimed incredulously, Taking a few prompted steps up towards her daughter with purpose.

"Well maybe they'd know better if they're parents were still around to teach them better, Not that its my fault like they think though, Right?" [F/N] spat, Her voice venomous and the sheer disregard for the weight of her words went through her mother like a static shock.

"How fucking dare you.." Her mother whispered, Her voice full of disbelief at her daughters words leaving her jaw agape and eyes wide.

"Well I mean, The parents were already shitty people to begin with so I suppose that whoever ripped them apart did the kids a favour-"

SLAP!

[F/N]'s monologue was cut short by the hand connecting hard to the side of her cheek. [F/N] yelped out and stumbled back trying to catch her balance.

The hit had landed roughly at the side leaving only a single burst of a painful red on her monochromatic get-up.

"Your ideology is absolutely disgusting, How bloody dare you speak about the dead like that? You don't have any right to say that about anyone, Young lady!" Her mother yelled at her, Only about a foot away from her face.

[F/N] blinked away the tears from the pain and instantly snapped back.

"I'm saying what nobody else has the guts to! Just because you're all cowards and ignorant bastards doesn't mean you get to take it out on me!" [F/N] screamed back at her mother, Getting up into her face.

"You kee-"

While speaking, Her mothers hand shot out to grab [F/N]'s shoulder but her wrist was snatched by the younger girl, Who held it with an iron grip cutting off the older woman's speech.

"Don't you dare lay another hand on me.." [F/N] hissed. Her face seemed to be etched with a wild kind of rage like a feral dog, The single action of her mother making the anger so clear to anyone who could see.

Her mother, Being a much older woman than her daughter had much more brittle bones. The grip on her wrist being sore and painful on her old skin as she tried to pull away from her daughters grasp.

Realising what she was doing [F/N] let go of her mother, Who staggered a good few feet back from her assailant.

[F/N] mumbled a small yet sour apology and marched off towards the door out of the main Livingroom.

As she opened the sliding door and stepped out she heard her mother call out back to her.

"Y-You go up to your room and stay there, Young lady. Only come down once your ready to apologise!" She heard her mothers weak voice call out to her as she shut the door.

"I know!" [F/N] replied without looking back at her.

The door finally closed to leave her in the dim hallway, The only light shone from behind the Livingroom door leaving the entire hallway almost impossible to see in. [F/N] stood still behind the door, Making no move to head to her room. She looked down at her feet to contemplate her situation.

"Really? Hitting our mother? You've reached a new kind of low, Haven't you [F/N]?" A voice called out a little way down the hall.

[F/N] jerked her head up to the source of the voice and groaned.

Her younger brother, Juro, Stood at the end of the hall seemingly just came down the stairs. His head was held high and the usual smug grin lay planted on his face as always, He had his arms folded across his chest and his entire figure radiated false superiority.

[F/N] was the oldest of the five children her parents had conceived. Juro was the second oldest by only about five years apart in birth. [F/N] supposed that the reason they had such a big gap in age was due to the looming fear of their parents producing another demon child.

Though when they did give birth to Juro and found out he was a regular child compared to their monster of an eldest, [F/N] knew how much he'd be absolutely spoiled rotten, Which matched his personality like a pair of gloves.

It gave him a rather annoying superiority complex, With all the spoiling and being the one destined to become the head of their families clan and wealth you could probably see how it got to his head.

However it didn't stop [F/N] from being distasteful in behaviour towards him, The nasty expression on her face evident of that.

"Oh get off my case, Like you really give a damn." [F/N] scoffed, Straightening out her back to reach her full height.

"Of course I 'give a damn'. It's our mother and one of the figure heads of this clan, You really should be more respectful to your elders. Why mother keeps you around elludes me" Juro replied, Making sure to drawl out every condesending syllable to its full potential.

[F/N] knew exactly why her mother and father kept her around: They couldn't get rid of her. Their original plan was to marry her off, It didn't matter if it was to a nobleman or a commoner to them. The only thing that did was getting her to leave.

Though it imploded on itself when they realised no one would take her, Both her attitude and her looks were a big enough deterrent. Great for her but bad for her parents.

"Ah, Right. Because she shows such an amazing amount of respect towards me, I honestly feel so awful about it" [F/N] gasped, Sarcasm dripped from every word and fell like acid making Juro's eyebrow twitch.

He moved forward a few steps, Sizing her up as he went.

"Well the difference is that mother has a reason to not respect you, I mean come on, It's obvious. Maybe if you do treat her with the right attitude then maybe she might start seeing you in a different way" Juro said the last part as if he was trying to contain laughter, Like he had just heard the most offensive joke in the world he just couldn't laugh at.

[F/N] felt her fists clench and tighten to bare her knuckles.

"But with such sour attitude I do suppose it would be impossible for you, Wouldn't it? Dear sister?" Juro whispered as he got up into her face. Only a couple inches away from her now he carefully eyed her down, Waiting for one single move.

[F/N]'s teeth grinded, Her tightened palms grew sweaty and itched for the offensive attack. She wanted to punch him, She wanted to attack him and wipe that disgusting, Grimy smirk off of his arrogant little face.

However, [F/N] just sighed and let her fist drop loose into straightened palms. She knew what he was doing, She wasn't going to give into his taunt. She's had enough for tonight.

"Back off, Juro." [F/N] simply warned. Turning away from his expression now filled with annoyed disappointment she headed off towards the stairwell at the end off the hallway.

As she got up the steps she heard his smug voice call after her.

"Such a lovely chat with you as always!"

☆♡☆

The sound of childlike laughter resonated throughout the house, Despite the muffled sound of it [F/N] could hear the weight of it even from behind the thick walls of her room.

The pale moonlight of the night had illuminated the unlit room and flooded the area with a subtle glow, The silk blinds danced along with the soft breeze lifting into the room.

Her bedroom was situated at the very top of the large family home, The third floor. The massive house was large and sat at the edge of the village they lived in, Overlooking the entire town yet having enough distance to be considered a private property separate from the other houses.

The house was home to three floors in total. The first was the main area home to the kitchen, Livingroom and general activities such as a drawing room, Dining hall and her fathers very own training room.

The second was housing all of the bedrooms. All of her siblings, Parents and even the guest sleeping quarters were located there. It also even held a small room for their families servants.

And finally, The third was by far the loneliest of the trio.

It was much smaller compared to the other floors and was the newest built. It only housed a single hallway and [F/N]'s own separate bedroom which made up the majority of the floor.

Usually the prospect of having an entire floor to themselves would entice and excite anyone. The privacy and spacious area would seem like a blessing.

And yes, [F/N] agreed. It was a blessing alright. She was granted privacy from the struggle that was her family, It gave her time on her own to be herself.

But she also had to admit: It had it's downsides. Another laugh sounded out from downstairs on the first floor. The movements of the hairbrush on [F/N]'s light locks halted, Just for a moment as she listened to the joyous voice of her youngest sister.

They were having dinner, It seemed. [F/N] didn't apologise and had no intention to, So she was forced to reside in her room.

She continued to comb through her hair, Feeling the tug of the movements as she listened to the laughter down below cease.

[F/N] scoffed at it and tried to take her mind away and focus on the strokes of the brush. Though she couldn't help but trail off to the infuriating scenario happening downstairs.

Since her father was away her mother was probably the one to cook the food tonight, She always did instead of the family servants, Her own personal recipe of a Sukiyaki stew pot that she made to comfort her kids while their dad was away.

Her kids.

A mother is suppose to "love" her kids unconditionally, And in that aspect she certainly did, All except when it came to her. [F/N] knew her mother had tried at least, But it came off in the way you'd treat an unwelcomed guest. Trying to give due respect yet wanting them out of your house as soon as possible.

[F/N] had figured a long time ago that it was better to be treated with ire than pity and had given up all sense of courtesy towards her mother, Continuing to this day.

A faint tug pulled in her chest as another roar of laughter came up from downstairs, They seemed to be having a good time.

[F/N] finally set down her brush onto the vanity. The small sound of the wood hitting the desk seemed so much louder in the large area of her room.

[F/N] supposed she did need to give her mother some credit, She was the one to let her have the single room at the very top of the house (Even if it was to keep her away from the rest of her family)

But the room seemed so.. Empty.

[F/N] stared into the vanity mirror, The light surface of the glass reflecting her own pale visage back at her.

She trailed a hand across her features to examine for any blemishes, Pushing back any stray strands of hair from her face and pulling them behind her ear. Staring deep into the clear colour of her cardinal rose eyes she assessed their problems, And she found none.

When times like these came about [F/N] often pondered about why people didn't like her more. She was beautiful, Stunning, Exotic even to the disgusting drunk men that passed her by on the moonlit walks.

So why even if some drunkards could see her beauty why couldn't the locals and her own family see that too instead of the cursed child from a close-to-god family?

It couldn't be her attitude, That was just a by-product of their own treatment toward her. So why? She was born this way, She couldn't change how she looked, She should of been adored.

Yet all the locals, All of her beloved family, All of the suitors that her parents had tried to ship her off to had only a single look at her before rejecting her whole.

One day, She promised herself. One day she'd get back at them, She didn't know how or when or even if she could but she knew that one day, They would regret treating her like a bug under their foot.

As her mind wandered she started to realise that maybe it wasn't the room that was empty.

A sudden knock echoed out, Crashing [F/N]'s train of thought.

[F/N] jerked her head over to the main door of her room. Getting up from the small pillow she sat on she moved quietly to the entrance. Turning the knob and opening the door she was met face to face with one of her families servants.

"Your mother has requested me to bring you your dinner" The servant said, Robotic and monotone in voice as he presented her a bowl of udon. [F/N] paused at the sight of it.

"..It's not Sukiyaki stew pot.." She mumbled.

"Correct, Ma'am" He replied in short.

[F/N] was silent as she carefully took the small bowl from his hands, She barely noticed the small bow and the closing of the door before it was entirely shut.

[F/N] examined the soggy noodles and small tempura bits in the bowl, A barely generous helping.

She 'tched at the sight but figured she was lucky enough to even get dinner in the first place.

Turning around she walked over to the other set of double doors at the end of the room, Food in one hand she pushed the door open to reveal the small balcony outside. Stepping out into the night's cool air she took a deep breath in.

The laughter was no longer audible once she shut the door, Only replaced by the sound of cicada hums and the clacking of tiles when she clambered up onto the slanted roof of the house.

[F/N] sat down on the tiles and looked out onto the sea of village houses down below, The faint lantern light from the village was warm and inviting in contrast to the inhabitants, Of whom were out doing their nightly patrol's in watch for another mutilation.

However the scene didn't interest her in the slightest, Instead it was the moon which seemed to hang over her entire world.

It glowed brighter than any lantern the village people could spark, Yet the light was never overwhelming or stung her eyes in the slightest. Instead the soft rays of moonlight had only provided comfort.

[F/N] didn't know why it brought such solace, Maybe its because it never burnt her skin like the sun did. The moon replaced it in that way, The night time became her daytime, When she felt most lively: Herself.

She often came up onto the roof to feel that way, Every time without missing a single night she'd climb up onto the roof and speak to the moon for hours like it was an old friend. Or maybe just to stare and admire the pale light of its beauty.

But to be fair, [F/N] never felt much at all.

When she did it was always a constant state of annoyance, Anger or resentment. The feeling the moon brought her was still very unfamiliar to her, But very much welcome. She barely understood anything other than the undying resentment, Maybe it was a sad existence but to be fair she barely understood sadness either.

She realised the udon in her hands was growing cold. Reaching behind her for the pair of chopsticks she noticed something else a little further ahead from them, Lying on the roof.

She raised an eyebrow and squinted her eyes to examine it closer, But they instantly shot out once she realised what it was.

It was a single bouquet of flowers, Red, Beautiful roses sprung from the carefully arranged bunch.

[F/N]'s breath hitched in her throat, Her whole body seemed to clench up at even a small sight of it. A bouquet of roses? Who could of left those here? They couldn't be for her, Could they?

She set down her bowl of udon carefully beside her, Eyeing the bouquet like it was bound to attack her yet it didn't stop her quick crawl over to its side.

Nor did it stop the almost desperate grab she made for the neck of the bunch, Pulling it close to her chest she finally noticed the small tag sticking out from the flowers reading: To [F/N] Shiratori.

She felt the concentrated joy explode inside her like bottle rockets, The absolute euphoria flooded her senses as she felt hot blood rise to her cheeks, Giving colour to them yet said no pain.

The roses were absolutely beautiful, Carefully handpicked as the petals seemed soft and fresh. She grinned wildly, They must of took great thought while preparing it.

She couldn't help but shove her face into the roses to inhale their scent, The sweet yet rich aroma circled in her mind. They truly were the best of the bunch.

But when she pulled away she noticed she had neglected a small envelope from where the bouquet was sitting before, Hiding the envelope below it.

Her lips quirked. First the roses, Now a letter? She giggled slightly, Imagining whoever it was is a real romantic.

Extracting the envelope and gently opening it's folds she pulled the paper from its cover and unfolded it to view the contents.

Dear, [F/N]. My one and only.

Ever since I saw you on this rooftop, I knew you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I hope one day we will get to meet, One day in the near future.

Love, Your admirer.

It was such a simple letter, Only two simple sentences of sweet but common flatter words yet once she had finished the final word the fireworks of a foreign emotion burst inside her.

She knew it was something akin to euphoria, An exhilaration that made her blood rush to her cheeks and heat up her entire system in the cold nights air, Yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't identify the rhapsody of song inside her.

Though she couldn't deny, It felt good. Better than she's ever felt in a very long time.

[F/N] embraced the letter with her whole body, Curling up around it to try and squeeze out more of the intoxicating feel, An addictive high.

The letter and bouquet, Whoever may have left it there, Wherever they may be, They must really really like her.

☆♡☆

The yelling of her family woke [F/N] from her peaceful slumber.

Her heavy eyelids were wrenched open as she writhed around atop the roof tiles, Bothered by the loud intrusion.

Once she finally let the light hit her pupils she realised her mistake. She was in the light, The sunlight was touching her skin.

[F/N] yelled out and instantly scuffled down off the roof, Swinging open the door she almost lunged into the safety of her house shade as she fell onto the floorboards.

Her skin burned and tinged lightly. Examining her skin she found the beginnings of a mild sunburn on her arms, The red welts fizzling up into her hands all the way to her forearms. Her light kimono doing nothing to shield her from the UV rays.

She had fallen asleep on the roof and had neglected the danger of doing so, In her panic [F/N] chided herself for her stupid mistake.

Yet outside it seemed like it was just the break of dawn, The orange to yellow hues painting the sky signalled the early hours of the morning. She was lucky that the noise woke her up in time, Otherwise her problem would be much worse.

Scrambling over to her vanity mirror to examine the full entirety of her body she gasped on sight as soon as she saw her reflection in the polished glass. Her face.

At least a good third of face was covered in red hot boils and welts, The sore burn crept up from her left cheek over to her chin, Reaching as far as her right side too.

"No.. No, No, No.. Please, No!" She yelled, [F/N]'s eyes almost popped out of her sockets with tears starting to form at the corners. She trailed her equally burnt hands across the scorch marks in disbelief at what she was seeing.

A sudden rapid pounding at her door knocked her out of her stupor.

"[F/N]! Open the door, Now!" It was her mother's voice. The alarm in her voice seemed to resonate in [F/N] to give her a grasp of their unknown situation.

"Jeez.. Hold on!" [F/N] called out towards her door, Yet she saw the handle start to turn. A spike in her adrenaline shot up.

"I'm getting dressed, Damn it!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice as hoarse as a fourty-year chain-smoker. The turning of the knob stopped as soon as she let the words leave her mouth.

"Fine, But make it quick! And make sure to put on something nice." Her mother yelled back at her, A small tint of exasperation lacing her tone yet her footsteps leaving down the hallway sounded determined in their path.

[F/N] cursed. Bullets of sweat rolled down her face and stung the burns where they lay. She had no idea what she was going to do. Rapidly sliding out drawers in her vanity to find anything of use, To no avail.

Next she went to her closet. Swinging the old wooden doors open she shifted through her different coloured kimonos. Pulling through the silk and cotton she found nothing of use except for a thickly woven navy kimono that was oversized and could cover her body nice and neatly.

Despite that there was still the issue of her face, The burn marks were so noticeable you could see them from miles away. There was nothing that could hide her scorches from the sun-

Her hand bumped up against something.

[F/N]'s temple furrowed. Reaching into the back of dark, Spacious cupboard she gripped onto the object she felt was made of straw.

With a tug and a pull she managed to haul out the hefty object, Revealing it to be her old uchikatsugi.

It was a gift from the town's doctor before he passed away from old age a few years ago, [F/N] remembered him fondly even though he was never really around.

He still did greet her with a smile and a handshake every time they met, It wouldn't be wrong to describe him as a father figure either.

Though as always, Good things didn't last. They never did.

[F/N] had no time to dwell on that last thought, Her relief was a much more appealing distraction.

The uchikatsugi, A large straw hat for noblewomen with a large silky veil to cover her face. Back when she got it, It was way too big for her to use with her small body so she stored it in her closet for a later use, [F/N] supposed she just forgot about it.

She sat the large hat down on her head, And with a little shimmying to get it properly down it fit her head like a glove to a hand.

Once she finished changing into her dark cerulean kimono, She was ready to go downstairs and see whatever it was her family was making such a ruckus about.

As she took careful strides down the creaky steps of the stairs she saw her mother impatiently tapping her foot at the bottom. [F/N], Before making herself known, Fixed up her appearance to make sure nothing was showing free.

Once she was pleased, [F/N] cleared her throat to which her mother jerked her head around to her 'daughters' direction.

"Ah, Finally. I was wondering what took you so long." Her mother remarked, Letting her folded arms drop to her sides. [F/N] huffed at the passive aggressive tone yet felt alleviation, Her clothes worked, Her mother couldn't see a thing.

"Had to find a good enough outfit for such an important event, At least from the sounds of it. Why am I up this early anyways?" [F/N] yawned, Still not quite tuned in despite her earlier shock.

"There was another one." Her mother responded quickly, Turning away.

"Another what?" [F/N] queried, Tad annoyed at her mothers elusive behaviour.

"Another mutilation, [F/N]." Her mother exasperated, Swiftly turning back to look at her with an expression that just oozed the word obviously.

[F/N] stopped, Mulling over the information.

"Alright, Okay that's bad but why does this concern me?" She asked after a moment.

Her mother shook her head to her daughters persistence.

"This is a village matter, [F/N]. Something we are apart of" Her mother explained, Treating [F/N] like a curious toddler repeatedly asking why.

"Unfortunately.." [F/N] muttered.

"Just get a move on downstairs now, Swiftly now.." Her mother said, Quickly pulling [F/N]'s shoulder and hushing her down the second set of stairs. [F/N] shrugged of her mothers firm hand, Telling her she'll go down herself.

Settling her hat comfortably onto her head she headed downstairs, Dreading future events.

☆♡☆

The early morning air was cold and fresh as it weaved through the tall houses of the village.

Usually in the mornings with the first break of dawn you could hear the chirping of the crows harking in the early crowds off to work. You could see the townsfolk head to the markets and children run about in the streets, Laughing and roughhousing with each other like siblings together.

But today was different.

The echo of crows on the village walls were silent now. The children who use to run about in the streets buck wild were now pulled close to their parents, A worried smile replacing their usual carefree faces.

[F/N] stood away back from the large crowd gathered in the centre of the village, Everyone from the village was here. The elders, The working class to the babies were summoned together in the village, All quietly chattering amongst themselves.

She observed the crowd in distain, What mundane people leading such plain lives. They They wasted their lives in the sun, Taking the warmth for granted working nine to fives and coming home to their stupid little families, Accomplishing nothing big in their lives yet they boasted of grandeur while she stood standing away from them, Suffering from the pain of her sunburn.

She huffed at the thought.

[F/N] didn't stand with her family, She only watched them as they made their way to the front of the front of the crowd of which immediately quieted down at the sight of them

[F/N]'s father was considered the head of the village and therefore took care of all the important matters.

However since he was absent it was up to her mother to take care of her husbands duties while he was away

"Hello everybody, It's good to see you all out here today." Her mother called out her opening statement. She was backed by the other four of her siblings, Juro standing especially besides her.

Despite her hello's, Nobody answered her.

"I suppose you all know why you were called here, Regarding the death of the Hagihara family." Her mother continued.

Hagihara, That rang a bell in [F/N]'s mind.

Her eyes widened in recognition, The neurons connecting in her mind as the face of the little girl she had hit with a rock entered into her head.

"If you're not already aware of what happened, Early in the morning screams were heard from their family home. On investigation they were found.. Killed inside their Livingroom.. No survivors" Her mother announced.

A few shocked gasps ran from the crowd, The chatter from before sparked up like a lighter on the fuel of information. However their talking was calmed by her mother rather loudly clearing her throat.

"Yes, Yes. I understand this is horrible information, And I know a good lot of you were close with the family and I do offer my sincerest apologies." Her mother said. Her voice filled with a genuine sympathy, Showing it by giving a few select nods towards some of the crowd.

[F/N] didn't listen to her mother however, The information was still fresh in her mind.

This information should have left a lack of feeling in [F/N]'s chest, And regarding the deaths it did.

But the coincidence of it felt like a static shock to a dead heart. First it was the Furukawa's, They were particularly nasty to [F/N]. When they fell victims to the night veiled attacks she had felt glad despite how morbid it was, They weren't there to harass her anymore.

However now it was the Hagihara's, Only yesterday did they get negatively involved with her after the rock incident and now they were dead.

No. No, It was just a coincidence.

Even though they did hold hatred against her so did all of the other villagers. If the mutilations were connected to her then the mutilations would be targeted towards more outspoken villagers, Even if it was because of the rock incident other villagers would of been targeted before her. Her family would be targeted before them.

Even so, She needed to make sure.

[F/N] was barely listening when she quickly took off away from the crowd down an alleyway. Slipping away from the group with ease as their attention was still heavily focused onto her mother, Who was still continuing on with her speech. She couldn't bare to be surrounded by such waste of flesh anymore.

She picked up pace once she realised she was far enough away, Managing to navigated the rock base of the village with proficiency and quickly coming to a stop once she stood in front of the targeted house. Luckily it was located on the other side of the village, She could make as much noise as she needed.

Once she finally stopped she could notice the broken down door almost instantly. The village houses were regularly built together so this was striking to her. The shoji door was splintered into pieces of wood and sheet, Tiny pieces.

[F/N] swallowed a lump in her throat, Realising the weight of what she was doing. But it didn't stop her from taking strides forward, Past the destroyed bits of door and into the house where she saw the real carnage.

The Livingroom was absolutely destroyed.

Walls were shook and large scratch marks decorated them like paintings. Furniture was flung about and lay toppled across the entire main room like a wild beast was let loose, A bear, A rhino. Something of that size could of done this, Yet she could tell it was entirely human design.

The room was completely in the dark, No sunlight shown through which let [F/N] take her uchikatsugi off to get a better look.

Despite all of the wreckage its the fact that the room was coloured head to toe in red, That is what sent a feeling of dread crawl up [F/N]'s back.

The blood was stained on table cloths, Floors, Wooden walls. Anything that could be stained was drenched in the now-dry ichor of red. Thankfully the bodies weren't here anymore, Most likely hauled off to get cremated.

The singe of the scent of blood itched at the tip of [F/N]'s nose as she took a few more cautious steps inside, Carefully avoiding the debris as she finally made her way into the centre of the Livingroom.

The whole place just radiated fear and destruction, So much so that it felt like a cold hand was resting on her shoulder when she looked out at the scene.

Her eyes shot up.

She jerked her whole body around and stumbled back like a shock to her system, She lost her balance and fell backwards.

"Careful there." The smooth voice belonged to a man, Who caught her once she fell backwards.

His strength was commendable as he only laid a single hand on her back to keep her supported.

[F/N] was breathing heavily, Loud gasps of air from the sheer fright the man gave her. He gently lifted her up to her feet, Making sure to steady her.

"I apologise if I gave you a fright there, I do have a habit of being a quiet walker" He explained with a courteous smile.

"Yeah.. You do.." That was all [F/N] could say, Her breath still taken away but not from the fall as she laid her eyes on the mans face.

The man was pale, Deathly pale. While [F/N] was as white as a sheet from her condition it looked like he was sickly and withering, Yet the look seemed to compliment his bone structure. His dark wavy locks shaped his face and came down to his sharp jawline, Perfectly brushed and trimmed.

However it was his eyes that struck [F/N] the most, The same ruby irises that she had harboured stared right back at her. Even through the darkness of the room she could see the vividness of the red through the suffocating black.

"..Are you alright?" He asked. [F/N] didn't even realise she was staring before he snapped her out of it.

"Yes, Yes. I'm fine, Thank you." She said, A hint of practiced resentment laced her voice. A built-up tactic to protect herself. But the suspicion was warrented however, The clean cut black suit vest with golden coloured lacing was clue enough to tell her he wasn't from here.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, Resting her hands onto her hips. Her eyes were locked onto his own, Searching for any sign of deception.

The man simply let out a breath of air.

"I'm here to this village on business reasons, I was just passing through when I saw the door broken down. I'm just here to make sure everything is alright." He explained, A light carefree tone in his voice.

"My name is Tsukihiko, I travelled here from Tokyo" Tsukihiko added after a moment.

[F/N] carefully examined his body language for any sign of him lying, Any twitch of the hand or quirk of the lips but she came up empty handed. She had no reason not to believe him.

"Okay then, Tsukihiko.." She drawled, Still cautious of him "Well since you obviously don't know, There's been a string of murders going on in this village for a long while now. You really shouldn't be in here" She said.

"May I ask why you are here then? No offense, But you don't look like an investigator or any kind of authority, Miss." Tsukihiko said yet his tone sounded near playful if it wasn't for his dignified self.

[F/N] felt her tensed shoulders deflate, He got her there.

"..None of your business" She retorted, But her previous aversion had dissolved into a weak huff. "What's an investigator suppose to look like anyways?" [F/N] mused.

"Usually not like a beautiful noblewoman such as yourself, The one's I've seen tend to be a bit more.. Lacking in that department" Tsukihiko replied, As if what he said held absolutely no weight at all.

But that wasn't true to [F/N], The words held so much weight that it squeezed down at her heart. That same, Unfamiliar euphoric feeling she felt holding the flowers kept rushing out of the compressed heart and filling her system once again.

Did he really see her beauty? Or was it a way to strengthen out a deal with a noble family's daughter? If so then the joke would be on him. But he wasn't that far off from her, They were both pale and shared the same wine-stained eyes. Maybe he did understand her beauty. The mere thought of it seemed to clench her heart tighter.

However, It was stopped by a single missed heartbeat.

The sunburn, She still had the sunburn on her skin. Her uchikatsugi still lain slack in her left hand. [F/N] felt her hands suddenly grow clammy and her lungs take in a sharp breath, A quick spike in adrenaline made her entire body freeze up.

Tsukihiko seemed to notice her realisation, Somehow understanding her sudden panic he gently rested a hand onto the girls cheek.

"I mean my words, I'm not quite fond of the sun either." Tsukihiko said, That deep voice ringing soft in the girls ear.

The hand on her cheek should of been warm, But instead of the expected body heat coming from him there was a cold chill that ran down her from his touch.

It felt nice on her sunburn, It seemed to cool down the itchy feel of heat simmering in her skin and instead made it feel like a early summer breeze. [F/N] in response seemed to soften down and lean into the cold, Only a little bit.

"Seriously? People here seem to enjoy the sun a lot, You disliking it would be a first" [F/N] mumbled absentmindedly, Her gaze trailing off to some unknown point of the room. "How'd you know I didn't like the sun anyways?"

"A good guess, I suppose. You have albinism, Correct? It's only natural to have a resentment towards the sun when it sears your skin, I have a particularly terrible condition myself so I suppose I can empathise" Tsukihiko explained.

His words brought [F/N]'s eyes back to his own, Their shared eyes meeting together. Ones searching for any kind of lie while the others looked back with only the sincerest of truth's, At least from what [F/N] could tell anyways.

She felt a sudden sense of an unrecognisable feeling.

Not like the one she had before when it felt like fireworks, But instead one that felt like a rope was tied between the two. Like a single string had suddenly appeared just from his words, A sudden connection.

Connection? That sounded right, At least she thought so.

"..I see. You don't seem to have albinism, So what's your condition anyways?" [F/N] queried. While the man was pale and had the same red eyes she had, It couldn't of been albinism. His hair was a natural noir and his skin still held a very tiny bit of melanin.

[F/N] saw his lips quirk, It wasn't noticeable, Only a quick twitch before they were back to their usual smile. It almost raised an eyebrow.

"..It's not a specific illness that has been diagnosed however the symptoms do include a rather harsh weakness to sunlight." He said.

Thats strange, [F/N] thought. Tsukihiko was only wearing a suit vest, Black dress slacks and a clean white blouse. He had no form of sun protection like [F/N]'s kimono or uchikatsugi. It was weird, And [F/N] wasn't going to let it go for a second.

"Really? Then how did you get here without something like a parasol, Or any kind of protection?" She asked, Her guard raised up once again in light of the new information.

Tsukihiko's guard followed with [F/N]'s. His shoulders stiffened up and the smile on his face seemed just a tad bit more strained than it did before.

"Well luckily due to-"

"[F/N]!" A sudden scream cut through the start of his words. [F/N] gasped, She recognised the voice of which belonged to her mother.

She cursed under her breath and rushed past the man, Her attention fully diverted from him as she set the uchikatsugi onto her head and went out of the house and into the sun.

[F/N] finally stumbled out onto the rocky street road, Only to see her mother at the end of the road angrily making her way towards her. [F/N] sucked air through her teeth, She was in trouble.

She saw Juro stand behind her, Watching their mother make their way towards [F/N] with the omnipresent smugness drenching his face.

"Told you she was here!" He called out to his mother, But she didn't look back, She was way too focused on her eldest who stood there frozen like a frightened opossum.

The heavy sounds of her mothers sandals against rock and the single strum of a biwa echoed out into the wide walls of the village. Luckily no one else was around, Probably still making their way here from being dispersed only earlier from the town meeting.

"What the hell do you think your doing, Young woman?!" Her mother yelled. Finally closing the distance between the two her mothers hand lunged for her daughters wrist, Yanking her close to her [F/N] let out a curse under her breath.

"What? Can't I check out the crime scene?" [F/N] remarked with a practiced incredulous tone. Ignorant curiosity, It wasn't the reason she came here for but her mother didn't need to know that.

Her mother looked back at her, Incredulous, Just like [F/N]'s voice. However it was mixed with contorted expression of how one might look at spoiled food, Maggots and rodents already festering and all.

"..Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth? At any point in your life do you even think about what you're about to do?" Her mother said, Only a single pitch away from a whisper.

"Either way it wasn't why I was here, I was talking to that man over there." [F/N] said, Lazily motioning her head under the hat towards the entrance of the house. Her mother quickly strode away from her daughter, But made the move to grab her wrist and drag her along as she went towards the entrance of the house.

"Hey! Hands off me-" [F/N] yelled. Despite her mothers old bones it seemed the sheer anger made her completely apathetic to her age.

"What man? There's no one there." Her mother hissed. Pushing her daughter in front of her to get a better look at the house.

It was true. Apart from the dried carnage and the destroyed insides of the Livingroom there was no sign of life inside. No noise nor presence to be found.

[F/N] felt her heart stop inside her chest, Her breath stifled. That was impossible, The only entrance inside the house was the main door. If he had left through the main door then there would of been no doubt that he would of been spotted.

"Good gods, [F/N].." Her mother groaned, Massaging her temple to soothe her irritation.

"He was here! I swear, I don't know wher-"

"Oh just be quiet, [F/N]!" Her mother exclaimed.

Turning to face her daughter she jumped back in surprise, The look on her mothers worn face was tired and so very angry.

"I'm so done with just letting you run about and do as you please, Someone needs to give you discipline to show you how things work around here" Her mother said lowly.

Yanking [F/N] forward they took off away from the scene. [F/N] couldn't keep up with her fast pace and stumbled around as she was pulled along in her mothers grip.

They passed Juro who didn't even turn his head towards her families squabble, Only side-eyeing [F/N] as they passed.

Juro, That bastard, An Ironic insult but it was the best she could mouth at him as she was dragged by. He was the one who had alerted his mother to her absence, He had to be. Mother wouldn't care if she had wandered off, Juro on the other hand would pick out any opportunity he could to ruin her day.

As she was dragged back to their family home she cursed him out under her breath. [F/N] would've wondered why he was like this to her, But she knew that there was never a reason apart from stigma with a streak of sadism and superiority.

She'd get back at him one day. That, She swore.

☆♡☆

Loud footsteps slammed against the wooden floorboards of the house making louds creaks in their wake.

Opening and slamming the door it shook the frame of her room with the sheer force at which it hit.

As soon as it shut [F/N] pushed herself up against the door and let out a loud cry. The tears she was holding back with a fierce determination now flooded down her face without a hint of resistance.

She slowly slid down the door until it was only her, Sitting on the cold floorboards pressed up against the door, Sobbing her eyes out.

[F/N] didn't know why she was crying, Maybe it was just the broken dam of a slowly rising tide. The house of cards that finally toppled once the slightest of disruptions knocked over its foundation, Causing the entire building to fall down.

What she did know however, Is the words of which her mother had told her.

"Punishment!" "Deserve!" "Finally!"

The words her mother had used when she confiscated her parasols and uchikatsugi swarmed her like a hive of insects. The one thing that protected her from the sun, That let her feel like a normal person even if only for a single minute was taken away by her mother.

She had called it a deserving punishment, Finally giving her daughter the discipline she needed.

What would she even achieve from taking them away? To teach her a lesson, Perhaps. Maybe she had thought it would exorcise the demon that was disguised as her daughter. Even if she did think that before, After seeing the sunburn ingrained onto her skin gave her a good reminder alright.

[F/N]'s breath came out in hitches. Rapid gasps for breaths as she desperately tried to wipe away the unforgiving tears coming out of her eyes. Everyone kept asking what was wrong with her when the only thing she could ask was what was wrong with them.

She didn't choose to be like this. She didn't choose the red bloodshot eyes nor did she choose the bright white of her hair and skin, It didn't mean she was a demon. What was wrong with this world? What did she do to deserve this?

[F/N] lifted her head to wipe away the build up of fluid on her face when she caught the vivid red in the corner of her eye.

It made her breath hitch once more, But not from the pain in her lungs or the sting in her eyes.

[F/N] didn't even bother getting up, Instead favouring to hastily crawl over to her bed. Once she lifted her upper body to see what it was her eyes widened.

It was another bouquet, Just as beautiful as the last. The red petals of rose were fresh and smelt as such, Purifying the air around her and drawing her in with the sweet scent. The colour of the roses seemed to give a hot kick compared to the coldness of her abode.

It was that feeling again. Fireworks. The feeling that brought the warmth back to her, The one she could never describe.

[F/N] took the bouquet into her arms, The softness of both the petals and the trimmed stems caressed her bare skin.

Her lips twitched. The corners of her mouth turning themselves into a new smile, Feeling foreign on her face. There was no letter this time, However that didn't matter.

The bouquet said everything it needed to. She pulled it close as the last of her tears dried, Turning only into small sniffles now and then.

Maybe things weren't so awful after all.

☆♡☆

In the following months, Slowly, A routine started to form.

[F/N] wasn't allowed to go outside of her house, So she had to make do with what she had inside her room.

In the mornings she'd wake up, Make her bed and get ready for the day. Afterwards she would go downstairs to collect her breakfast and make her way back to her room.

Then in the afternoons she'd make herself busy by playing solo games of old sets in her room: Shogi, Menko or Origami, Anything to keep her occupied and keep the boredom at bay.

[F/N] knew if she just apologised and promised to her mother she'd be good she could definetly worm her way out of punishment, However she decided against it. Her pride and dignity was worth baring a stupid little punishment from her mother.

At night she would get her dinner from the kitchens and make her way up to the rooftops again, Speaking to the moon as her only social output as long as you don't count the snide comments from Juro or the single syllable answers from her mother.

For hours she'd just spout out about whatever came to mind. Her day, Frustrations and desires would all be entrusted to the celestial body, A silent promise not to tell between the two.

[F/N] thought it was funny, She'd started to believe the moon could really hear her. It felt like that too sometimes, That someone was really there to listen to her.

And finally, Careful not to make her mistake again she'd close the blinds and make her way to bed. Only to start the cycle all over again the next day.

Though sometimes the cycle would break, Sometimes she would find another bouquet. Lying on the roof or sat tidy on her bed.

Sometimes the person in question would leave a letter too. The sweet words seeming sacred as the flow of the writing went through her, Touching the very core of her heart.

She'd soak up every letter, Every little word she'd mull over for hours at a time letting that feeling coarse through her blood stream. These letters appeared about once a week, Quickly becoming the only thing she had to look forward to.

It was good, It was very good. It hit her one day, Lying in bed while rereading the latest letter for the fifth time.

Was this love?

Maybe. Before the letter had started she had dismissed the concept of it entirely, Love was just a façade. A husband and wife was suppose to love each other yet her mother and father barely spoke when they were around.

A sibling was suppose to love their other siblings unconditionally, But instead hers had shunned her and at best gave backhanded remarks. Sure, Her mother might of loved her kids but even then it was just maternal instinct.

Love was just a construct, That was her belief. It was a way to explain how things worked in a mysterious world, It didn't actually exist. No, It couldn't. At least not for her.

But when she held the soft paper in her hands and finished the last letter of the note it finally clicked, This was love. It had to be.

The undying passion written in the letters proved it, The vowing to love her always said it. It made her blush like an alcoholic intoxicated onto the feeling it gave her.

It was so addicting that she never really took care into asking herself how they got into her room or onto her roof, How they knew exactly what she liked or how she wanted it. That wasn't important.

What was important was who it was. Was it a girl or a boy? How old are they? What do they look like? What's their name? She pondered over this often and to be honest, She couldn't care less about who it was. They loved her, That's all that mattered. It was the spark of light in a dark hopeless void.

Even the rocks thrown through her balcony window, Scribbled in ink with the word "demon" couldn't take her out of her high. Nor the continuing mutilations building up a body count in town could catch her now.

Nowadays the entire family was counting down for the arrival of her father. His business trip had came to an end and now he was making his way home, Due to arrive in a week.

In a weeks time her father would be home, She dreaded the thought. So that's why she had carefully wrote a letter of her own and left it on the rooftop, A common spot for the person in question to leave their letters.

She wrote every letter with passion and folded the envelope with care, Waiting for the response she had went back to bed, Waiting for her admirer to take her away.

"When can I see you? I want to know who you are."

☆♡☆

Her letter had been answered.

The letter she had left on the roof was replaced with a letter of their own. The next day she had found it lying in the same spot, Bouquet of roses and all.

She read the words several times over, Just to make sure she was reading things right.

Midnight, Meet me outside on the pathway to the village. I'll be waiting.

Love, Your admirer.

They wanted to meet her, Her admirer wanted to meet her tonight. As soon as she read the last word she squealed like a little girl on her birthday and spun herself around the room with exhilarant joy.

She stopped dead in her tracks. She needed to get ready. Looking down at her morning kimono she realised she needed to wear her best, She couldn't go out looking like this.

The feeling of wanting to look your best while in front of someone was another new sensation, She'd been having a lot of new sensations lately. All because of her admirer. It was only right to look as good as she could.

She thought back to her experience a few months ago, That man, Tsukihiko. Maybe he was her admirer. The way he looked at her with those matching red eyes just spoke to her, It had to be him. Who else could it be?

Sifting through her closet she finally picked out a rather expensive kimono with a matching yukata. The design's laced onto the fabric were beautiful and made with care, When [F/N] looked at it she knew she had found the perfect one.

But looking in the mirror she knew her hair needed some touching up, Her makeup too.. And her nails and maybe she could find a cute hairpin? Maybe her hair needs touching up again..

By the time she was done it the sun had long set, Replacing the clear blue with a star filled winter night.

[F/N] knew she wasn't allowed out of the house, She knew when she carefully maneuvered her way down the rooftop. It never left her mind even soon as she felt her best sandals hit the ground, But nor did it ever matter to her. She was going to meet her admirer, That was much more important than her mother.

[F/N] moved hastily down the pathway from her house to the village, The letter never specified where about on the pathway they were to meet so she had just decided to walk until something happened.

She slowed down in her tracks to only a leisurely walk. The cold air hit the back of her neck and ran through her hair as she went. [F/N] felt her heart beating like a drum, The rhythm thumping at her ribcage felt like it was going to explode from her chest.

Her leisured stroll came to a stop, By now she could see the village lights and the rest of the stone-lined path. Her eyes followed it all the way back to where she was standing, No one was there. Not Tsukihiko, Not anyone.

[F/N]'s face scrunched up in confusion, She had went the entire pathway and no one was to be found. Could she be late? Looking up at the sky to see the moon dead-centre in the sky that ruled out the possibility entirely.

Then suddenly, She felt a rock hit her back.

The force pushed her over, Collapsing to the ground on her knee's.

The shock struck her like an ice-pick to the back, Causing a cold chill to wash over her. As soon as it hit her thoughts had came to a standstill, Trying to compute what just happened.

A few pairs of footsteps came running out from behind her.

[F/N] looked behind her, Eyes bloodshot and open to their limits as she finally spied the group.

"There! Told you she'd come." Juro laughed to the group of kids behind him, His friends, All carrying pouches of unknown fillings. They all looked down at [F/N], Their expressions all smiling wide and giggling along quietly to Juro.

Another feeling washed over, Anger only an aftertaste to the pain writhing around in her chest. Her arms shook as she tried to gather her Barings, However another quick jolt of pain went to her stomach. One of his friends who she recognised as the Furukawa boy had kicked her, Making her fall down again.

"Demon scum!" He exclaimed as he stepped back towards the group. [F/N] groaned in pain as she wiped away the red specks coming from her mouth.

"What.. What the fuck. The hell.. Are you doing here, Juro" [F/N] hissed, The truth of the situation going straight over her head.

"What? You don't remember? Meet me here at midnight on the pathway to the village!" He teased, The mocking tone in his voice made his group laugh. Juro looked at her straight in the eyes, The sadism shining through the dull overlay.

[F/N] stopped, Going completely still.

No, It couldn't be. Please, For the love of whatever god is up there. It can't be.

"You.. It was you?" She breathed lowly, Disbelieving eyes piercing into his. Pleading with him silently, Subconciously. Juro seemed to toss his head to the side and took a few lazy steps towards her, He had no care in the world as he stood only a foot away from his defeated sister.

"Of course it was me. I knew all about your little rooftop talks, I was the one to leave the bouquets in the first place." He announced it as if it was obvious all along, As if it was nothing but a throwaway joke in a play.

[F/N] felt her heart break.

She felt the culmination of that feeling built up over months, The growing flutter of her heart. The feeling she had even dared to consider love was shattered into a million pieces, Reduced to nothing but ashes.

This wasn't true, How could it be? It couldn't.. [F/N] felt her vision start to go blurry. She opened her dry mouth, She only had one question to ask.

"So.. For months.. You left me flowers.. Letters. All so you could bring me out here..?" She whispered. The blurryness in her eyes gathered and dripped down her face, Cold against her burning face.

"Well I mean, Not at first. In the beginning it was just a way to mess with you, It was funny for me but then.." Juro motioned over to his friends "When I told my friends about it we thought it was an opportunity we couldn't lose, Especially when you left a letter of your own." He finished.

The words devastated [F/N]. The entire world around her seemed so desolate, Like she drowning under the weight of the entire ocean unable to breathe or speak.

She didn't even flinch when Juro and his group raised their hands, The pouches full of unknown contents brought high. And when they threw it, She was glad that her tears blurred their faces.

She curled up into a ball and wished for this nightmare to be over.

☆♡☆

The dragging of slow footsteps echoed lowly in the dark hallway. The passage was dark and near lifeless as most of the house was asleep at this point, Only a few servants lay awake finishing their nightly duties.

[F/N]'s feet barely left the ground as she clutched the hot cup of tea in her hands. In the days that passed it was the only thing she subsided on except from the small bites of food she would eat during the day.

Her eyes seemed low and sunken, Like they were struggling to stay open. Along with her matted hair and chapped lips she appeared dishevelled similar to how an insomniac running on coffee would be, Though at this point that was basically what she became.

Gently pulling open the door to her bedroom [F/N] took a few short steps inside. Once she closed the door she was greeted once again by the emptiness of her room.

She let out a defeated sigh. Trotting over to her bed she set her tea down on the side table, Right before collapsing right onto the bed.

She sunk down into the mattress, Letting the temporary warmth and shelter of the blankets envelop her.

[F/N] was tired, Very tired. Right then and there she wanted to close her eyes and not wake up, Not for a long time. But she knew that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn't be able to sleep, Not as long as her mind was as conflicted as hers.

She turned over onto her back so she could stare up at the ceiling. Before all of this had happened she felt angry or annoyed, Always, There was no in-between. Maybe a splash of surprise here and there but apart from that there was no flux.

After she read the letters her palette had expanded, It felt like she was tasting a new wild variety of flavours for the first time after only eating bread for her entire life. She felt euphoric, She felt love and infatuation. It was good, It was so good.

But now after being hazed with flour and hit with rocks, Humiliated and embarrassed by Juro and his gang she just felt.. Nothing.

She wasn't angry nor was she annoyed, She's tried to feel those things, She tried to feel some sort of rage towards him but after everything she just couldn't.

Juro had even left an extra bouquet for when she got back that night, This one not of roses but instead spider lilies.

The only thing she could do was toss them out from the balcony, The flowers taking all of her anger with it.

[F/N] turned her head over to her balcony. The blinds were shut over the doors yet there was a small opening, A little crack that let moonlight filter through into the room. She could see the moon facing her through the opening, Gathering up what she had left she opened her mouth.

"Is this it..? Is this all there will ever be to my life..?" She whispered, Looking at the moon as her only friend.

She waited. She waited a good few minutes, Waiting for any kind of response from her oldest companion.

Yet nothing came. The moon just looked down on her, Just like they did, Just like they all did.

[F/N] huffed lightly, Turning away from the moon. It was stupid. She grew up to believe that the moon was always there for her, That it would always listen to her. It was her friend.

She knew how stupid that was now. The moon wasn't her friend, It couldn't listen to her. All this time she spoke to an unfeeling object, Something that couldn't understand her or provide any comfort.

"Is this all there will ever be to my life"

Her words rang out in her head. At every turn she was dejected back down into the dirt. While the healthy ran outside to live their life she was stuck at home, Unable to get a job or a husband due to her looks.

She hated them, If she had anything else left to feel it was hatred. They lived their lives free to do anything they wanted yet they wasted it on mundane jobs, Mundane lives while she was left here to fester.

[F/N] closed her eyes. Listening to the servant outside brush the hallways, She tried to use it as white noise. Something to fa-

THUMP!

[F/N] opened her eyes slowly.

The wall to her room that was shared with the hallway suddenly let out a large thump. Coincidentally the sounds of sweeping came to an abrupt stop right before the noise.

Everything was silent now, There was no noise coming from outside nor from [F/N]. Instead she just watched the door, Waiting for the next sign of life.

Another set of footsteps came, Not belonging to the servant before. These ones were heavier, Filled with purpose and stride.

She listened as they reached her door, Coming to a sudden stop in front of it. [F/N] listened half-heartedly along, Waiting for the next sound.

It came. The slow but loud creaking of the door echoed from the walls in her room. She didn't dare to look up into the dark void of the doorway, She knew what was happening. She knew what was going to happen. This was the demon who caused the villages mutilations, There was only one outcome.

The footsteps entered the room. From [F/N]'s limited vision she could only see what looked to be a mans body dressed in a suit jacket and blouse, The left arm stained with a fresh crimson. Her eyes moved up, She couldn't see his face however, The moonlight didn't reveal it.

[F/N] sighed, Maybe out of exhaustion or maybe out of relief.

"So it's you, You're the one whose been doing the mutilations I suppose.. I'm guessing you got to the servant outside right?" She drawled, Letting the syllables play out on her tongue.

The man didn't answer, He only stopped in his tracks. [F/N] could feel his eyes on her, Running over her body, Like a wolf checking to see if the fox could fit in its maws.

[F/N] didn't expect an answer, But she continued anyways.

"You're going to kill me now, Probably even before I've finished my sentence but just.. Just let me make one final request.." A sudden jolt came from inside her like the final remains of lighter fluid sparking out into the raging blizzard.

It felt like vengeance, If she was going down then she knew who was coming with her.

"I don't care if you kill me.. But when you do I want you to take my family too. I don't care how you do it but I want you to make it bloody, I want you to make sure that my father comes home to a slaughter house, I want you to make sure people remember this." She said, The liquid in the lighter drying with her words.

She closed her eyes, Waiting on her bound demise.

This was it. Her body relaxed to take in her final moments. The warmth of the blanket, The coldness of her room, The beating of her heart.

"Who said I would kill you.."

And the feeling of a hand over hers, Gripping it tight.

Her eyes opened wide at the voice, Her irises searched and landed on the mans face now illuminated by the moonlight, It was one she recognised.

"It's you.." [F/N] breathed, She looked over the mans features, Just to make sure.

"Tsukihiko" She whispered. It was him, She saw it now. It was the same suit-jacket, The same styled hair and red eyes. A gentle smile graced his face as he moved even closer than he was currently.

"Even though I may have told you so, Tsukihiko isn't my real name." He corrected. That same deep tone of voice he used all those months ago laced his voice, Resonating deep inside her.

"My name is Muzan Kibutsuji, I am the progenitor of all demons." He declared softly. The hand he had entwined with hers squeezed tighter. His hand wasn't warm, It was in fact cold to the touch but it didn't feel uncomfortable, It was instead akin to shaved ice during a heatwave.

The progenitor of all demons, This was the demon king. It raised more questions than answers but [F/N] could only ask a single one.

"Then, why won't you kill me? Why are you telling me all of this?" She whispered, Looking deep into his eyes for the answer.

He only looked back with the most sincere emotion a being like him could have.

"Because, It seems I've become infatuated with you."

The words left his lips with a finality, As if he was just as bewildered as she was looking into his eyes.

The words pierced her like a spear. [F/N] felt eyes expand and her jaw opening only a little. It was that feeling again, That same feeling, The fireworks.

"..How can I trust your words? How do I know you're not lying to me?" She asked, A small treble in her voice. How could she trust anything he said, Not when she could never trust anything anyone said to her.

"You can't trust me." Muzan finalised, Agreeing with her words. She felt disappointment start to bubble up in her before her spoke one more.

"But when I say that I have became smitten over you from the day I saw you on that roof top, When I say that I became enraptured by your beauty and charm I want you to believe that, My love." He spoke.

[F/N] was speechless, She couldn't believe what she was hearing but by the gods did she want to. Heat rose to her cheeks and she stumbled to get out a single vowel before she was pulled to her feet by Muzan.

"Everything I've been doing these past few months I've done for you, Everything. You are more than a mere human, You're someone I can call my equal" He whispered. And from his suit pocket he pulled out something that gleamed in the moonlight.

It was a ring of silver, A wedding ring. It was beautiful. A sapphire center piece for the gemstone, Crowned by the silver and another dozen gems surrounding it.

[F/N]'s breath hitched at the sight of it.

"You want me… To marry you?" She asked, The words foreign on her tongue. [F/N] still stood in disbelief, Shock, A flurry of new emotions invading her senses that made her need to conceal an excited grin.

"Yes. I see no one else worthy of being called my wife, Only you." He replied. Gentle smile still painted on his face.

The fireworks went off. In that moment, [F/N] knew the answer, One that she couldn't put into words but instead an action.

As soon as the fireworks exploded she took a step forward, Putting her lips on his and bringing Muzan into a deep kiss. Trying her best to make it as passionate as possible with her inexperience.

Muzan didn't resist, But instead seemed to expect it. He put an arm around her waist and took lead, Guiding her along.

As it happened she felt their bodies collide, His arms were wrapped around her body tightly while hers rested on his shoulders in the heat of the moment.

[F/N] barely noticed the ring slip onto her finger, A perfect fit. She could only focus on their lips mingling with each other, His fangs clashing against her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what to do with her tongue.

Muzan's hand slipped down to her neck. A single claw cutting open both his finger and a small part of [F/N]'s neck, Letting his blood mix with hers.

The motion made [F/N] pull away from Muzan, The feeling of her stomach turning interrupting her.

"What the.." She mumbled. [F/N]'s body started to shake, She felt weird. Stumbling back a few feet she was caught by Muzan, Smiling at her with that same gentle look.

He set her down onto her bed, Caressing her cheek with care.

"Rest now, Your transformation should only take a few minutes." Muzan said, Sitting beside her on the bed.

[F/N] nodded, She knew what he meant and she simply didn't care. Only smiling lazily as she let her heart circulate his blood round her system. She felt him close her eyes. And let his blood take her over completely.

☆♡☆

[F/N] followed Muzan down the hallway. Her movements were slow yet jerky at the same time, Like her entire body was numb and barely woken up.

Her mind was hazy, Like a sudden mist started to fall over her mind as soon as she woke up. Her stomach turning had turned into a sudden emptiness, A sudden hunger. She had a craving for something, She didn't know what. However all she knew is that she had to follow Muzan as he helped her down the stairs.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs onto the second floor, Suddenly she caught something sweet in the air, Enticing her on.

Muzan noticed this, An almost amused smile appeared on his face.

"Go on then, I won't stop you." He said, And that was all she needed.

[F/N] took off following the scent almost feverishly, Making her way down the hallways going around turns she finally came across a door.

Her mouth watered. The scent was stronger now, Even more so as she bust open the door.

Juro woke up with a start, The noise of his door slamming open almost off the hinges made him flinch. He got up so he was now sitting on his bed. Maybe another mutilation happened, It was probably his mother informing him so.

But as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes to see his elder sister leaning against the doorway, He knew that wasn't the case.

"What the hell do you want..? You still mad about last week?" He chuckled lightly, The sleep still permeating his voice.

[F/N] stood in the doorway, Not answering. However her breathing was laboured and she stumbled about, Swaying side to side. Her head was lowered to the ground, Eyeing only the floorboards.

"What's wrong with you?" Juro raised an eyebrow at his sisters movements, It was getting annoying. Waking him up in the middle of the night and she wouldn't even tell him why.

But he suddenly froze once she lifted her head.

Her laboured breathing showed off her teeth, Sharper than normal creating new fangs protruding from her mouth. Her pupils had slimmed and turned into something similar to a cat's, And they were eyeing him like a piece of raw meat.

His sweat dropped, This wasn't normal. Slowly getting out of his bed he made sure to never take his eyes off of her, To make sure she didn't pounce.

"Listen.. [F/N]." He started, His voice shaky and carefully planned.

"I-I'm sorry for what I did.. Okay? I-I shouldn't of treated you like that.. It was wrong, I.. I'm so sorry okay?" He started. His entire form shook, His knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the situation.

She took a step forward, Making him flinch.

"I-I'm sorry! Please don-"

[F/N] lunged forward, Her body knocking into his as they fell to the floor with a thump!

Juro screamed, Loud and high pitched to make sure the rest of the house woke up as he felt [F/N]'s teeth lodge into his neck.

With a tug she pulled her mouth back. A chunk of flesh and muscle tore out from his neck, Making a spray of blood coat the room and [F/N] entirely painting her red.

Juro sobbed. His mental state reducing into that of a child's as he felt his sisters teeth tear at his flesh, Only to greedily shove the meat down her gullet, Pleased at the sweet taste she licked her lips to Juro's horror.

She tore into him, Again and again. Juro felt his limbs be pulled from their sockets and the blood burst from his arteries, Popping like candy and spraying all over the room.

He was barely conscious when the cold sweat of death wash over him.

The last thing he saw was the looming figure of his sister. His severed arm in her mouth and covered in red. Smiling at him, Wide and proud.

And the oncoming figures of the rest of his family in the doorway.

☆♡☆

Downstairs Muzan stood idly in the main room.

He waited for her, Listening intently to the noise thrashing around upstairs. He decided it was best to let [F/N] take care of it herself, She was hungry after all and as a new demon she needed her strength.

However, Muzan's attention was drawn to the main door, Which was flung open letting the cold nights air flood inside.

In the doorway was an older man. A katana around his waist and a yukata over his slayer uniform. Muzan felt the grin tug at his lips, This must of been [F/N]'s father, A slayer at that.

"..Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?!" He exclaimed, Yet his tone contained exhaustion, Obviously tired from a long travel.

"Who am I? I assumed you slayers would know a king when they saw one." Muzan remarked.

The mans eyes widened. The tiredness in his eyes before was now long gone and by now his sword was drawn, Pointing straight at Muzan.

"You.. Muzan Kibutsuji" He said. Despite his brave front, Muzan could see through it. He was terrified.

"There it is.." Muzan drawled, Now turning his full body over towards him. Her father made no move to attack him, Only keeping his sword at head level waiting for Muzan's next move.

"What.. What have you done with my wife, My children." Her father asked, The thought tearing through his mind, Scared of the possibilities.

Muzan entertained him, The fact that he had the guts to speak out in the first place spoke volumes.

But before he could answer, The sound of creaking steps and dragging thumps sounded out behind them, Interrupting their conversation.

The mans attention flipped over behind him. Alternating between Muzan and the unknown threat they both watched intently as the presence reached the bottom of the steps.

The mans eyes widened.

At the bottom of the stairs stood [F/N], Drenched head to toe in blood smelling of brass and iron.

But what she held in both hands, That's what made her father fall to his knees.

In both of her hands she dragged the mangled corpses of his wife and kids, [F/N]'s new strength granting her the capability to do so.

In her right held his wife, The corpse had several parts missing. Limbs, Flesh and organs all in various states of degradation.

In her left was the corpse of his second eldest. He wasn't even recognisable, Only the yukata being of any hint to his identity.

He fell to his knees, The sight seeming to defeat him entirely.

His nichirin katana fell out of his grasp, Slipping out with ease once he laid his hands on the corpses. [F/N] watched on at the scene, Gazing down at the broken mess of a man.

"What the.. No.. No this couldn't.." He choked out, Tears starting to form in his eyes and flow down his face. His wife and kids dead, He wasn't here to protect them, To do his duties as a demon slayer.

He moved his eyes up to the face of the culprit, Recognising her as his eldest disappointment of a daughter.

"You.. You monster.." He whispered, Piercing gaze going right through her like an icepick to the heart.

But [F/N] felt nothing as she looked at him, The haze from her mind lifted long ago at the first taste of her meal. This man for her entire life had been a overhanging figure, A threat to what would happen to her if she stepped out of line. His words were nothing new to her ears.

"..Do you have nothing else to call me, Or are you done?" [F/N] asked. She felt the rush of superiority come over her, She was the one in charge now. Not him.

Her father swallowed the lump in his throat. He had nothing else to say, Only choked sobs came out of his mouth.

[F/N] dropped the cadavers in her arms in favour of walking up to her father. Slowly stopping in front of him, Looking down at his weakened form.

Muzan stood only a few feet away from him, Watching over the events unfolding. He was amused at it, Watching [F/N]'s every move.

She raised her hand high, Her new claws spiking out of her fingernails ready to strike.

All these years of torment, Dejection and disgust funnelled towards her. The harassment and hate. Everything she had been through came down to this.

"Go on, My love." Muzan's voice called out, [F/N] glanced over to him "Finish this."

Muzan Kibutsuji, Her fiancée, Her stalker. He called out to her with that eternally caring voice, That same gentle smile edging her on to finish the deed.

She looked back at him and smiled.

And with a quick slash it was finished, Her father was no more.

His severed head dropped onto the tatami mat, She watched as it bounced a few times before rolling away.

Muzan appeared behind her, Wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You did such a good job, My love." He stated, Kissing the back of her head as he pulled her closer. [F/N] sunk into his hold, The coldness a comfort to her.

"T-Thanks.." She grinned, Fireworks continuing to go off. More so once he move a hand to her legs, Manoeuvring her so she was now being carried bridal style by her now fiancée, Not caring how much blood stained his blouse.

Muzan leaned down and left a small kiss on her lips, To which she returned.

"Are you ready to go now, My love?" Muzan asked.

"Always." [F/N] responded, Stars in her eyes.

Muzan smiled, Pulling her close. He looked up and with the single strum of a biwa, He disappeared into the night, Taking [F/N] with him.

Never to be seen again.

[joels6string]

home

RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time. 

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked. 

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail. 

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm. 

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie. 

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine. 

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night. 

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to. 

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours. 

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly. 

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace. 

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made. 

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips. 

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed. 

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance. 

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor. 

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

[the-undeadwriter]

Can you do the batfam x reader reader who at one point was poised to become "Gotham's Professor Moriarty, the modern Napoleon of Crime" but got amnesia (possibly associated bat family member's fault) before they could become a major threat and is now working with the batfamily, oblivious to their pre-amnesia self except a few old habits.

Ok so I was planning on adding more characters but my brain is imploding :,) if you want me to write the other characters don’t be shy to ask!!!

Requests are open !!

Warnings: implied criminal activity, injuries, reader is gn!

Wordcount: 548!!

Enjoy!!!

Waking up one day in a cave with no memories was something you would have never expected. Well, you would have never expected if you could remember who you were…

But, one day you woke up, surrounded by people wearing tight latex and Kevlar, attempting to ask you questions about things you had no clue about— what would you know about crime rings?? You barely remembered your name at the time!

They realised pretty quickly what had happened and, after a quiet debate, told you what might have happened.

Now, if you had all your memories, you would have known that this story was bullshit and the vigilantes in front of you were not to be trusted. But you didn’t have your memories, so you didn’t know that.

Which is why you’re here, several months later, fully integrated into the family and vigilante business. You weren’t allowed out on patrol or anything like that, but you had access to basically everything in the batcave and were trusted to help.

Like, being allowed to sample various toxins and venoms and attempting to synthesise a… cure, of sorts. Which is what you were doing right now, actually.

Hunched over a spectrometer and carefully mixing chemicals together. At the moment, you’re trying to see if you could possibly neutralise Scarecrow’s fear gas— progress is slow going, but if you could just—!

“What are you doing?”

You jump, almost dropping the vials in your hands as you spin around to face— “Oh, Dick, you scared the crap out of me!” You hiss, leaning against the table and clutching your chest. Dick laughs, stepping closer and standing beside you.

You can’t explain it, but you always feel like… Dick only hangs around you because he feels guilty. You’re not sure why, you can’t remember him doing anything wrong, and he hasn’t made an effort to apologise even if he did…

“You didn’t answer my question, y’know.” He huffs, crossing his arms and nudging your shoulder. You roll your eyes with a smile and turn around, picking up the vials you almost dropped and holding it up. It shines an ominous green, because of course it does.

“I’m trying to… reverse engineer this new batch of Fear gas. If I can figure out what it’s made of, I can—“ you stop suddenly glancing at Dicks face. He’s… strangely pale, staring at you with wide eyes. Your smile drops and you lower your hand, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Dick—?”

he jolts back, like he’s been burned, and you drop your hand, furrowing your brow. It’s… not the first time someone’s been scared of you for seemingly no reason. Though, it’s been a bit since they’ve physically reacted to your presence.

You sigh, turning back to your work with a frown. “Go upstairs and find Bruce, Dick.” You advise quietly, reaching over and grabbing a sealed container full of crushed up Papaver somniferum. You hear a quiet agreement and then the sound of footsteps rushing upstairs. You sigh, letting your head hang low.

You wish you knew what happened, for them to act like that around you. Bruce had told you time and time again that you had done nothing wrong, so why did it feel like…

Like they all were terrified of you?

[strangelittlestories]

Once upon a time, I was a Chosen One.

—

The spell spins through the air and I duck just in time. It turns a section of the wall behind me into a fractal skeleton of brick-shards.

—

Since all that was taken away from me, I had always expected to die forlorn, wistful and alone. But I had hoped that it wouldn’t be *today*.

—

The brick skeleton opens its red ribcage to swallow me and I scramble away.

The second mage's spell catches me in the shoulder. My tendons unwrap and attempt to burst out of my skin to strangle me. I push them down with my dwindling anima and they settle grudgingly back into place.

—

I’m getting ahead of myself. You may be wondering how someone becomes an ex-Chosen One. Well, being a Chosen One does not - contrary to popular opinion - make me special. 

I feel the absence of The Embrace constantly; like I’m stuck in the moment on a rollercoaster where your stomach falls away. This does not make me special either. There are a handful of other former avatars scattered about and I know they’re not doing well either (I scry on them from time to time). And besides, we hardly have a monopoly on the churning loss of purpose. 

—

I throw my anima into my fists. I don’t really have any to spare, but I’m done for if I just play defence.

There’s no clever working here, no cunning curse or complex incantation. I just ball up my hand, crush my spirit until it’s solid, then punch it out. The air ripples in a line of force connecting me and the second mage. It catches her in the stomach. I feel agony erupt as she collapses in three different planes.  

It is not nearly enough.

—

I have learned since I left the Mycelial Coven that yearning is a warm and open hearth. All are welcome to sit by the fire at the centre of the yawning void, staring at the flames until they burn the whole world away.

It is worse because I still think it’s correct. We designed The Embrace to be a temporary measure. A distillation of collective power, drawn from a collective of magicians distributed  across continents and consciousnesses.

Sometimes a crisis demands a champion. A single point of focus. A locus of amassed anima from around the world. It is given freely, and this avatar is Embraced; girded in belief, love and enough magic to jumpstart a star.

—

A third mage arrives. He is holding a curse above his head that spreads across the sky like wispy cirrus clouds made of animos (that rancid slurry of tainted spirit). The strands descend and wrap around the three of them, propping up the second mage like a puppet.

They surround me. Strands of sticky, bile-black poison rear up to strike.

I reach for The Embrace to help me. Of course, it is not there.

—

When I accepted The Embrace, I knew it was a once-only deal. It’s too much power to let any one person wield longer than one catastrophe. You get one quest. One war. One singularity. One chapter of the story where you’re the most important person in the world.

And if you survive, you leave the Micelial. That’s the deal. If the collective relies too long on an individual, it makes them a king. If an individual stands above the collective too long, it makes them a god.

So you save the world. You get gratitude. You get support. You get therapy. And you get shown the door.

I still think that is the right call.

But it’s not exactly helpful when you end up back in the life-or-death tangle again.

—

The curse wraps around me like a lover dripping venom.

My tattered anima burns to vapour as I try to stop it seeping into my skin.

I keep reaching. The Embrace is not there. It never will be again. But I reach still, grasping for the place where power once was.

And *something* answers. It offers me infinity. It gives me a price.

There are many sources of strength in the world beyond those made by the Mycelial Coven. The Embrace is only special because it is *benevolent*.

But I do not want to die. So I say to The Something: “Yes.”

[enchantedtomeetyou1113]

~ This town ~

Levi x reader song fic !

Summary: Levi wasn’t a horrible boyfriend…he just wasn’t emotionally available. you get fed up leave. He sees you with someone else weeks later and thinks of everything he should’ve done instead.

-

a/n: hii so this was 1 of 3 options that I gave for my next song fic!!! This one is inspired by This town by Niall horan you should definitely listen to it while reading <3 another thing-I hate when ppl make Levi unnecessarily mean to reader in stories like this..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The countless amount of times Levi got awkward and stiff around made you change your mind from you thinking ‘he’s just shy’ into ‘is he annoyed by my presence?’ You two were always close-ever since Erwin smith recruited him. For some reason you liked it better when you and Levi were only friends.

Which is perplexing,because he was the one who admitted his feelings to you first. It wasn’t like he was a bad boyfriend, no it was more of the fact that he’s so reserved.

He seemed so emotionally distant, there was a lack of any intimacy between the couple. He’d begin to talk about his past-that was still a mystery to you-but his face would get all blank and he’d tell you something along the lines of “enough about me,it isn’t important.” And the conversation would quickly end.

Another thing that confused the hell out of you is the way he got so uncomfortable when you complimented him. Especially infront of others. Again, you thought he was just shy at first,until you thought he was embarrassed of you. He wouldn’t kiss first. He’d kiss but never ever first. The only physical touch you would receive back was a pat on the head or a ruffle of your hair. He’d place a hand on your lower back when he’d notice any sort of discomfort or anxiety from you, but that was about it. Those things rarely happened which led to where you are now.

“Do you even like me?” You spat,heatedly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he began pinching the bridge of his nose. A nickname he usually used with no real heat seemed to drip more venom this time around. “I just don’t get it,Levi. Why didn’t you tell that scout we were together?”

A stupid scout. An older girl. A few years younger then Levi for sure but that didn’t matter-what mattered was when she asked if he was taken he rejected her without mentioning that he in fact wasn’t single.

He thinks it’s a stupid reason to be mad but you can’t get the thought of him being embarrassed by you out of your racing mind. It seemed like you had more and more proof to back up that theory every day.

“Are you really that embarrassed by me?” You try your hardest to not get too choked up.

His annoyed expression softened just barely.

“I’m not in the mood for this,y/n.” He sighed. “You are being over dramatic.” Him not defending that he wasn’t embarrassed by you just proved your many theories. You felt your heart skip a beat and your blood run cold.

“I think it’s best if we remained friends. I don’t think you understand what it means to be in a relationship.” You say trying your absolute hardest to keep your emotions in check. He blinks in confusion, shaking his head ever so slightly. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes speak in a language so foreign to you. He opens his mouth to speak but you are gone before he could even mutter a word.

Now weeks later Levi sits at a pub trying to drink you away. He’d wake up thinking about your kiss, and the smell of you that he cannot get out of his head. He hated that he didn’t break down the walls he had built around himself for you. The truth was he thought he didn’t deserve you. He wished he was better at showing it before it was too late,he longed for your attention.

It didn’t matter what task he’d be plagued with, no matter what important thing he was calculating,every thought weaved its way back to you.

The door to the pub swung open and in came you.

Behind you came a man. Levi grits his teeth his glare hiding the confusion to its best ability.

“Wait up would ya?” The man huffed out with an annoying large smile. You were many feet ahead of him already hoping up onto one of the tall bar chairs. “Would ya stop being so slow?” Your voice made Levi feel around 100 emotions at once. Jealousy,anger,sadness,and most of all,yearning. The ache in his heart only became stronger when he seen the man sit next to you and sling his arm around you.

Levi thinks about how maybe if he’d put his arm around you like that you’d have that same blush,just directed at him instead of that dumbass. He knows that it was wrong, not being able to move on while you obviously did.

But damn, you still made him nervous when you walked in a room and he felt butterflies just hearing your laugh. He sips on his drink and the butterflies slowly turned into a dark hole of regret. You obviously were to preoccupied to notice Levi full of self loathing and jealousy.

The man stood to his feet a small while later asking you for a dance. Levi can’t help but think maybe if he’d ask you to dance like that,he’d receive that same gorgeous smile from you. A huge part of him wants to get up and spare himself this misery but he doesn’t want you to notice him and ruin your night.

So he watched you two dance from the corner of his glaring eyes,and every time he’d spin you a giggle would escape your lips. it felt like another dagger to his heart plunging deeper every time.

The pub began to fill up more and more and Levi heard the bastard say “maybe this is a little embarrassing,” he was talking about dancing infront of people.

Levi thought to himself how he’d still dance with you even if the whole world was watching.

Then Levi thought to himself how he could barely speak to you infront of other people and mentally punched himself for being so ignorant. He knew what to do now, but what good is these new revelations when you’re getting this treatment from someone new?

He seen the guy excuse himself and leave you alone at the small table. He took this as an open invitation to sit with you, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Hey,” he said. Your eyes flashed from shock to confused to blank. He could swear he seen a flash of hurt.

“When did you get here?” You say wondering if he seen you with John.

“A while ago.” He said placing a shot infront of you. His stayed in his slender,shaky grip.

You silently thanked him for the drink shooting it down with a sour look on your face after. He couldn’t help but feel the butterflies come alive again from how plain out beautiful you are.

“…I want to tell you everything,” he looks down.

“All the words I never got to say the first time around…and you can listen or you could ignore me and your new friend will come back and I’ll leave the pub because,as long as you’re happy I wouldn’t want to disturb your peace-“ Levi rambled on without noticing the hopeful spark in your eyes.

“I remember everything, from when we were practically children on the training grounds together.. wish I was there with you now.” He muttered. “I’d get on my horse and travel lengths and distances to be there with you.”

His hand inched toward yours and he cautiously touched his fingertips to yours waiting for your approval. Your own hand moved closer to his giving him the okay and Levi swept up your hand into his. “I was never embarrassed by you. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you of that when you actually needed to hear it.”

You hesitated for a moment before responding. “So why did you act like that?”

“I truly didn’t mean to.” He sighs “it was never my intention to give you those feelings.” He brings your hand to his lips. His own hand trembling slightly from the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline. He kissed the top of your hand ever so softly. “You can call me stupid,or a dick,or empty-headed-i wouldn’t blame you,i really wonder how many times I hit my head in my lifetime to be such a dumbass for not treating you how you deserve to be.”

“I think I deserve you call you a brat.” You say with a hint of a smile. You finally felt a weight lift off your chest with his confession. He finally said the words you’ve been waiting to hear.

“I’ll give you a one time pass.” He huffed from nose in a laughing manner. You seen the amusement in his eyes. Along with the fact that his dilated eyes confirm the amount of drinks he has tonight. Though his words and actions seemed more sober and heartfelt then ever.

You felt his lips crash onto your own and you couldn’t help but melt into it. Kissing him back you felt pure happiness and warmth.

“Y/n? I went to the restroom for no more than 7 minutes?!” Ah and then there’s John.

Levi tried to hide his smug look,he truly did.

———————————————————————

A/N AHHH I really like this one yuhhh and if you enjoyed it you should check out my master list here! <3 likes and feedback is greatly appreciated

And to the ppl who voted for this I am tagging you!!! @houseofcrying @alebrasil0101 @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e @levisbrat25 hope you enjoyed!