#what if i told you this was a bit from thyme bastard

[charlottesweetly]

sorry for bullying charlotte but....

[housetargaryenloyalist]

From a seed grows

Chapter II: Petunia

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Synopsis: To claim a dragon one must be prepared to give up their life, yet this is the one thing you never wished to give up.

Wordcount: 9.6k

Warnings: Canon divergence!! This will not follow canon completely and will mix book with show canon (because I can ❤️), bastardphobia, mention of death and killing, yelling, Jace is a bit hot tempered but so is reader.

Author's note: I'm a bit insecure about this chapter with all the recent happenings in the Jace, plus it's my first really writing this much for one chapter. so I hope you'll like it. Also feedback is super duper appreciated as well as likes and reblogs!

(Future chapters will most likely also be around this lenght)

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

♡Chapter I: Thyme♡

Dragon fire burned hotter than anything else known to man. Bards all throughout Westeros have sung of how the dragon fire of Balerion the Black Dread melted together thousands swords and create the Iron Throne. A testament to the strength of dragons and their riders. It was meant to intimidate enemies and inspire reverence in allies.

Everyone knew that dragonfire burned hot, and now you would experience just how hot firsthand

A most horrid end, yet one fitting for a bastard of Targaryen Lineage most would say. No pyre would be made for you, your body instead burned to ash on the cold beach of Dragonstone, with not a soul to mourn you.

Your eyes were closed as those thoughts surged through your head. It terrified you to be of so little consequence, to be so mortal.

Someone once told you that when death was near you would think back onto your life and all your most important memories.

You would be filled with happiness of your most joyous moments before the Stranger would give you their kiss. Death would be warm, warmer than your bed in Flea Bottom, warmer than a mother's embrace.

At the time you had smiled and cheerless smile , eyes looking into the distance as your hands gripped a black shroud, “that would be nice” you had whispered.

Now you cursed them quietly in your mind. There were no memories drowning you in happiness, no memories to distract you from the ice cold terror that had settles in the pit of your stomach and spread throughout your body. You waited with abated breath for the beast to devour you, you waited for low rumbling followed by a bright burst of flames and then indescribable pain would consume you until there was nothing left to consume.

Silence.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, expecting to see large teeth and open mouth waiting to devour you. Instead, you were met with an intense gaze from emerald eyes. The creature’s gaze was locked onto yours, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was a flicker of recognition, almost as if the dragon was studying you, trying to understand. You didn’t know what to do, lying there, coarse sand digging deeper into crevices of your body and etching more scratches into your skin.

The dragon remained unmoving, letting out an occasional snort as it studied you intensely. Trapped partly underneath its snout you do nothing but observe the creature in similar fashion. Both of you started at one an another, a weird feeling flourished within your chest.

“Why aren’t you killing me?” you whispered, voice hoarse and exhausted. The dragon only coked it’s head slightly, as if to convey they did not understand. You tried to stand up, slowly, with uncertainty tainting every move. First you scooted further away from the dragon’s snout, careful not to touch it and startle it, then you pushed you against the sand to try and stand.

Unfortunately you overestimated your own strength, because as soon as you stood you could feel the unsteadiness of your legs. In a matter of seconds you feel them give out. Out of instinct you reached for something to hold onto.

Callused hands met rough, burning scales. The heat beneath your fingers felt like touching a warm bowl of soup, hot enough to startle but not enough to burn. You let out a shaky breath when you realised what you had done, leaning on the snout of the dragon.

Once again the beast let out a loud snort, much like a horse would make. It startled you, making you release its snout the moment its hot breath engulfed your body.

Your cold body felt cold no more, heating up just from being close to the dragon. Your brows furrowed, confusion settling in your mind. What had happened to the intense fear and terror you were feeling mere minutes prior, yet now you felt a strange comfort wash over you. As if this creature would never hurt you, as if they liked you.

Something primal hidden within you took over, as if centuries of dragon riders that had come before you took your hand and put it on the dragon's snout. First it burned, seared beneath your finger and then it shifted. Fear ebbed away from your being, slowly being replaced with a feeling much like veneration and somehow, you knew what it meant. There, in the dragon’s emerald eyes glistening in the late afternoon sun, you saw yourself.

A bastard with silver hair.

A dragonseed.

A dragon rider.

Beneath your fingers the heat had dissipated, yet there was still power beneath them. You were able to feel it's breathing, knew that with one wrong move your life would be forfeit. Power reverberated beneath the scales, dragon fire of unknown heat was now yours to command.

The longer you held the dragon into submission, the more you felt yours souls intertwine. A rumble resonated from deep within its chest as if acknowledging this newfound bond. Your feelings became more than your own, the paranoia from growing up in Flea bottom became shared with a fear of being hunted by other dragons. Everything you once felt now held a dragon counterpart. You were no longer your own. You were one half of a whole.

And for the first time since gods knows how long,

you were not alone.

The moment did not last, for soon you heard a distant roar much softer, and higher pitch than the one that came from the dragon before you. You whipped your head around towards the direction of Dragonstone castle. There beyond the sand dunes that covered much of the castle from view, you saw a dragon flying towards. Although a much smaller dragon, it was a dragon nonetheless. Behind you your dragon rumbled, raising its head and standing tall behind you. You were but a mere speck in comparison once it stood to its full height.

The dragon roared loud, a warning or a threat, you did not know. The other dragon landed in the distance, far enough not to be immediately eaten and far enough that it would not be consumed by fire.

To see that far you squinted your eyes, the afternoon sun low and bright making it difficult to discern what the dragon looked like or who the figure was walking towards you. As the figure got closer, you readied yourself, hand near your dragon in an attempt to keep it calm.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, your dragon let out a loud snort, dipping its head. The figure did not reply, instead they kept walking closer, their features becoming clearer the closer they got. You saw some hesitation as they got closer, their head turned towards to dragon’s snout. Gauging whether they could get closer or not. You looked to the dragon, “stay calm,” you said, turning back to the man in front of you.

“He won’t understand you,” the man said, his face not an unfamiliar sight. His brown curls were more ruffled than how they had been hours prior, the wind most have messed them up. His hands were once again crossed over the pommel of his sword and his tunic still the same black and red. Jacaerys Velaryon stood there just as arrogant as before, yet there was a fear within his stance.

“what do you want?” He cocked his head to you, perhaps not used to such a blunt way of speaking, “Her grace wishes to speak to you about your”- his eyes went from you to the black scaled beast-”dragon.” He spat the word dragon out as if it was a curse, as if it was something he did not want to say. “What does her grace want with us?” “The queen does not need to explain herself.”

His tone was clipped and you watched as he tightened his grip on the sword. You let out a snort, at the same time your dragon did. Eliciting a most lethal stare from the crown prince. There was no point in arguing you found, he did not like you and he would come to like you any day soon. Besides, you were fatigued, hungry and in pain.

You could not return home to Flea Bottom with a dragon in tow, nor could you stay here on the beach. “Apologies, my prince” you smiled an overtly polite smile as you empathised the words. “I shall gladly speak to the queen.” Sacarsm dripping with every word, even if there was some sincerty in them. His sour expression did not change, he only nodded in response.

“Follow me then,” he said and turned around. You bit your lip to keep laughter a bay, for some reason, you were terribly amused by the sour mood of the prince. “What of the dragon?” you asked as you looked back at the magnificent beast, a part of you already feeling wistful at the notion of parting from it. “Leave it,” the young prince said, “it can fend for itself.” He did not await a response, instead taking off to the same place he came for. “I will see you soon,” you whispered to the dragon, hand reaching out to caress the part of its torso that was closest to you.

The dragon let out a rumble, and in your mind you felt that it was trying to reassure you. With one last pet, you took off to join to prince who had already walked quite far. “Wait for me!” you shouted, and you only got a look of utter annoyance in response.

The prince had walked with you all the way to castle, his dragon flying above you both. His sour disposition did not change, even as you tried to engage him in conversation his replies would be short and clipped which irritated as much as it amused you. “So... what did you mean earlier?” he looked at you with cocked brows, “when you said my dragon could not understand me?” He rolled his eyes as if the answer was as obvious as saying the sky was blue.

“Dragons don’t understand the common tongue.” “Then what do they understand?” you asked, genuinely curious, yet you were able to see that it annoyed him from the way his jaw was set, “They only understand Valyrian.” “That old language?” “Yes," he gritted out.

You hummed in response, “can I learn Valyrian?” He looked sideways as if pondering it before saying, “Perhaps,-” he looked to you, looking over your frame, scrutinising you no doubt-” in due time.” You nodded slowly, not knowing how to respond.

The conversation ended like that, and although you were brimming with questions, you knew that he was not likely to entertain him. Instead you opted to continue forth in silence. Dragonstone grew larger and closer with every step you took. Soon enough you would have others who might be able to answer your questions answers.

Upon entering Dragonstone various guards had flocked to the young prince, awaiting commands, yet the prince turned them all away. He declared that he must escort you himself as the queen wished. You had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, all this pompousness was not something you were fond of.

This constrained way of talking, hiding all that you really felt behind petty facades and poisonous words. In Flea Bottom things were brutal, harsh, dangerous, yet when someone disliked you, they made it known. Here it felt as though every step you took was a tender balance between chaos and peace. One wrong word, and you would be ousted from the castle forever. You knew that within these walls you would need to be careful. Play the game, or die.

Your second time walking through Dragonstone felt much different than the first, now you knew what happened underneath the stone floors, knew the bodies that laid in the Dragonpits, perhaps not by name but you had seen their faces. Hope, fear, pride, all human, all mortal and most were now dead.

You wondered how to prince seemed to unaffected, knowing the lives taken. One more reason to add onto your list of “royalty sucks.” The prince walked in front of you which allowed you some leeway to openly gawk at the tapestries and statues you were not allowed to gawk at previously. Death payed well you thought.

Candles illuminated the hallways, casting shadows that danced around your feet as the wind blew the flames into every direction. A storm was brewing the young prince had muttered under his breathe, not meant for your ears to hear.

Storms didn’t scare you, not when you found yourself sheltered between ancient stones that had withered centuries of storms, yet anxiety was a funny feeling. It started clawing its way from the back of your mind all the way to the front. Haunting your mind with the most horrific of scenarios, from the castle collapsing in on itself to a deluge bursting through the heavy doors, drowning all within.

As you passed the occasional window you saw the weather worsen, at first the sky clouded over, the next window you passed had already been stained by drops of rain, and at last window you could no longer clearly see the outside, the rain pouring down hard enough to obscure everything.

Soon the prince came to a standstill in front of large oak doors, opening it with little effort, and you see now how much strength the young prince had. He stood there, in silence, looking at you. Beyond the doors were long, spiralling stairs, the end of them you were able to see from where you stood. You stepped forward with some hesitation, eyes looking up a head to see where the stairs led.

“You are expected on the top floor,” he said, closing the door behind you both. Here within this tower, you could clearly hear the thunder and rain raging outside, adding to the terrifying nature of this place in particular. The prince stepped around you and made his ascent, not bothering to look back to see if you were following. After the prince turned around the first round corner, you snapped out of you slight reverie, quickly hurrying after him.

The walls of the tower were bare, no tapestries or intricate carved design, the only thing you saw were old stones. It was a long ascent, occasionally the stairs would halt and change into even floor and on those small patches of floor there would be two heavy doors. The prince told you those led to private quarters, the higher up the more important the inhabitants.

“Where do I sleep ?” you asked as you passed what you assumed to be the fourth floor, the prince looked to you, down his nose and truly looking down on you., “the queen shall decide that.”

You hummed in response, a part of you not to keen on the prospect of residing in this looming tower, with the way the thunder roared here in a way you had never heard thunder roar.

Soon the stairs came to an end in front of a small door, leading into a hallway with only candles to light your way, the hallway was not long and at the end of you were once again faced with a set of doors. Two Queensguards, silver armour shimmering in the candlelight, stood on either side of it. As the prince moved forward, the guards rushed to open the door. The doors creaked and groaned, alerting all behind them of the impending intrusion.

A grand chamber was revealed to you as the doors opened. In the middle of it stood a large table in an unusual shape, candles were scattered on top of, coating parts of the table in wax. It was a marvellous piece of craftsmanship, with intricate lines and drawings carved into it in way that allowed for them to be illuminated by placing candles underneath it.

The prince stepped forward, “I have brought her, your grace,” he said before making his way towards his mother’s side. Sparing a single glace to you which you replied to with a smile, something the young prince seemingly did not appreciate for all you got in return was a scowl.

The queen extended a soft smile to her son as he made his way to stand closer to her, bypassing all the other lords in the chamber. The mother and son pair whispered briefly amongst themselves, eyes occasionally glancing to you while you pretended you didn’t see it.

Their eyes weren’t the only ones on you, the entire room had made you their object of intrest. Some wore scowls of displeasure, others regarded you with intrigue. After growing up in Flea Bottom where shadows were you best friend, being this visible was unsettling. They looked over your entire garb, your entire being. Examined you silver-blond here, unruly and no longer in the shape of a braid, they scrutinised your lack of violet eyes and most of all, detested that you were not of high born blood. They did not need to speak it aloud, their gazes were enough.

“My lords,” the queen raised her head, her quiet conversation with her son over, “I kindly ask that you leave this chamber.” The words left the room abuzz, some muttered protests under their breaths, other had no such shame. “We shall reconvene on the morrow,” she smiled once again, but it was not a smile of affection, but a smile that screamed not to oppose her, “enjoy your evenings.”

You stepped away from the doors as the hoard of lords approached, talking amongst themselves while glancing at you and the queen. No doubt they felt spurned for not being allowed to be present for the upcoming conversation.

The queen approached you, as her son stood back, eyes watching your every move. “Please sit,” the queen motioned to one of the chairs scattered around the weird table. “My son told me something quite fascinating,” you furrowed your brows, sparing a quick look to the man in question. “He told me that The Cannibal approached you,” as she spoke she filled two goblets with a ruby red liquid, most likely a very expensive sort of wine.

She placed one goblet in front of you, afterwards, taking a sip of her own. All the while her lilac eyes observed you. You had never found yourself in such a scenario and were admittedly at a loss. Before uttering any words, you decided to take a sip of the wine, you couldn’t remember the last time you had any beverage that was not sea water. It tasted sweet, thick and sweet, unlike any other wine you had ever tasted.

As the wine warmed your body, and softened the aches of your bones you spoke up, “If by The Cannibal you mean the black dragon I met, then yes, it did approach me.” The queen looked at you, nodding and taking another sip, then placing her goblet on the table. Her son still boring holes in your figure from where he stood.

“What was the encounter like?” She eventually asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity. Her kindness and patience were unusual to you, for her, the queen, to speak to you with even the tiniest bit of respect was unheard of. It is no wonder she commanded the other lords to take their leave, they would not stand for this familiar sort of talk.

They would pass out to know that you sat on their honourable chairs, imagine what they would think if they knew you had the opportunity to partake of their wine. They might die on the spot. You had to keep yourself from letting out a chuckle at the imagine your mind conjured, instead bringing yourself back to conversation at hand. You looked towards the queen, the awkwardness palatable as she looked at you with expectation.

“The encounter was life altering,” in the distance you heard the prince clear his throat, commanding your attentions. You raised your brow at him, as did his mother. “you are to address the queen by her rightful title,” he said, looking at you as if you had committed the greatest of offence, which you suppose, you kind off did. You huffed out a breath, “Apologies your graces I am not used to the manners of court.” The queen nodded in response, “It is alright,” she picked her goblet back up and drank of it once more.

God you hated this, the silence, the awkwardness, the forced politeness. It made you feel stifled, trapped. However you persisted, there was something they wanted, you could feel it hanging in the air like you could feel the heat from the heart. “So,” the queen continued, “we are to understand that you claimed that dragon?”

You gulped, and nodded, “I suppose that is what happened your grace,” you chuckled lightly after having said it, the notion of having claimed a dragon was still a bit foreign. The queen nodded, as she casted a look towards her son. You looked to her and saw that she was clearly mulling something over in her head, debating and weighing the options in front of her. As she thought, you took another sip of the wine, letting the liquid further ease your mind and buddy. The queen’s eyes soon turned back to you, her mind made up,

“You understand that we are fighting a war,” she asked, looking at you with a gaze full of expectations and a lingering hurt,”we need fighters.” You nodded slowly, knowing where the conversation was going.

“I want to you to fight for my claim with your dragon.”

The words were spoken, the proposition laid bare on the table. You took another sip of the wine, the sweetness of it had faded, coating your tongue in bitterness. Placing the goblet on the table, the thud echoing in the empty room as the queen and her son looked at you, one with expectation, the other with a dull fury.

“What would be in it for me your grace?”

The queen smiled.

Night had come early, partly thanks to the storm that still raged outside your rooms. Rooms that were placed two floors down from those of the royal family, in the middle of the tall tower. A show of gratitude from the queen, you were far enough up in the tower to be respected but not too far up that it would be deemed inappropriate. It suited you perfectly.

The goose-feathered bed was a comfort to your sore, aching and bruised body. The medicinal oils the maids had used for your bath had helped, but now it was up to you to heal yourself.

Being aided in your bath was a most unusual experience, hands different from yours rubbing and scrubbing the dirt off. You soon excused them, feeling to exposed for you liking and although they did an excellent job, you were not one who particularly enjoyed the lavish attention. By now the maids had already come to empty the bath and put it to the side, before asking you whether you desired anything else.

You had sheepishly asked for some food, and they happily obliged. Some moments later you were laying on your bed, with a tray of food placed on your nightstand; bread, cheese, grapes, a goblet and small carafe of water were there to fill your very empty stomach. As you laid there munching on a piece of bread, the events of the day truly dawned on you. What you had done, what you witnessed, the promise you had made.

You closed your eyes, savouring the piece of bread, remembering a time where the only bread you ate was either stale or partly mouldy, gods things have changed. The moon shone throught

With your old dagger you cut through the hard bread, trying your hardest to cut off the part of it that had been tainted by mould. The boy at your table eager to finally have something other than gruel for food. “How were you able to get bread?” he asked as you put a plate in front of him, alongside a bowl of bland soup that was more lukewarm water than anything of sustenance.

You weren’t too keen on replying, knowing that what you did wasn’t exactly lawful. “The baker no longer wanted it,” you replied clipped, as you dipped the bread in the soup. The boy didn’t reply, to busy devouring his bread. Hunger was a nasty feeling, and he had known too much of it. You smiled softly at him, and although the bread wasn’t procured honourable, it was able to feed him which is all that mattered to you.

“The madam has another job for me,” he said in between bites, causing you to pause your eating. “Really?” you furrowed your brows,” she was happy then? With your performance?” He nodded proudly, “very happy.” You smiled at him again, this job would surely put more money in both of your pockets. Money you desperately needed.

“She asked if you considered her offer,” he looked at you, soft lilac eyes filled with expectation. Eyes you never could resist. “I did,”- you took another bite-”I think I’m going to accept.”

You awoke the next morning with knocking at your door, the maids from the previous night entered your room. They carried clothing, fresh water to fill a small basin, and tray of food. First they helped you out of your bed, in your tired state you didn’t say anything as they helped you out of you night shift and into what they described as riding clothes.

They sat you down at the table in front of the hearth, the food to break your fast that was on the tray now laid spread out before you. As you ate, one maid started to straighten your bed, as another cleaned up the tray you had requested the night before. Soon you were left alone, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you took a bit from a piece of bread with jam.

It tasted amazing. You had seen jams in the homes of others, had even been able to taste it years ago yet you never had the luxury of affording it for yourself. Even the juice that accompanied your breakfast tasted expensive, especially due to the fact that the goblet you drank it from seemed to have gold embellishments. If you took one of those goblets and sold it, you would be set for life.

Your mind flashed to the little boy with lilac eyes, how much he would have loved all of this. You took a deep breath and tried to change your train of thought, a difficult tasks but one you had to undergo if you wished to leave the room with your sanity in tact. You grasped at the necklace you found yesterday, tracing over in an effort to soothe yourself and it proved effective. Soon you were out of your room, headed off to chamber of the painted table as the queen had requested last night.

It did not take you long to reach said chamber, having memorised the path when you were traversing it with the prince yesterday. Guards opened the door for you once more, and inside you were met not with councillors, but with three man of various age, the queen, the prince, a knight and men you remembered from the dragonpit. You were the last to arrive.

“My apologies for my later arrival,” you bowed your head, eyes darting up to meet ones of a soft brown. ”your grace.” you added as you saw the fiery glare form, he looked away with you with anger set in his jaw and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. The queen nodded, “Apologies accepted.”

you hurried to join the other three, standing next to who you thought to be the youngest. He was a handsome young man, tall with ebony hair and dark hair, and with a beautiful smile he extended towards you as you stood next to him. “Now that you are all gathered here, I thought it imperative we discussed some things.” The man furthest from you with hair half up and a messy beard nodded dutifully, while the one next to him looked bored out of his mind.

The prince standing next to his mothers looked at the man as though he wished to have him burned with his gaze. “You are to train with your dragons, learn the commands so that soon you will be ready to fight.” You gulped, a sliver of anxiety settling in on the bottom of your stomach.

“Y/n,” lilac eyes looked at you, “you will train outside with prince Jacaerys, a dragonkeeper and a few knights. I trust my son will be a great teacher to you,”she smiled as she continued to discuss and divide the roles of the others, however you’re attention was taking. The brown haired prince stared at you, his attention equally diverted. His gaze on you made you want to thwart your own, however your pride would not let you.

Instead of averting your eyes, you looked him in his beautiful brown eyes and smiled. An action that angered him for he immediately looked away, back to his mother. Anger rolled off him in waves, hands clenched on top of the pommel of his sword, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. A small victory for you, but a victory nonetheless. The meeting concluded shortly thereafter.

;With some words of caution and well wishes you were dismissed. Your anxiety had momentarily settled thanks due to your little staring contest, but now it was back tenfold as you followed the prince. “Where are we training?” you asked as you tried to keep up with his fast pace, “somewhere far away from the castle with enough space.” You nodded, “will you be the one to teach my Valyrian?” He looked at you with an annoyed expression, his new role as teacher must not have been one he accepted with much happiness.

“Only the most basic commands.” he looked you up and down,” I doubt you will have much use for more.” At his words you scoffed, “Perhaps I wish to write Valyrian poetry, I can’t very well do that with only basic words” you spat at him in rebuttal, causing him to laugh in disbelief, “Someone like you is not capable of that.” Your nostrils flared at that, “And what is that suppose to mean?!” “It means that you are not a Targaryen” he spat the words out, looking at you as if you were a stain on his shoe. “So what?! You think the non Targaryens don’t write poetry?” “Perhaps they do, but it certainly isn’t in Valyrian.” he stated as though it was a fact,

“And how would you know that my prince?” you asked sarcastically, “I doubt you spent enough time with any non Targaryens to know.” At that he tutted his lips in response, angry at your response. “I don’t need to spend time with them to know,” he said and it made you laugh. “You people have no education. What would you know of poetry, let alone Valyrian poetry?!” You stepped closer to him as a challenge, “And who’s fault is that,” you looked him straight in the eyes, “My prince.”

He did not reply, stunned at your actions. He retreated, seething and walked away from you. What a waste of a gorgeous face, you thought, for it to be wasted on such a personality. You looked to him and saw the distance he had already put between you, anger was a great motivator apparently. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before following in his direction.

“Drakares!” you shouted with full confidence, and the prince tsk’ed at you once again. “Wrong. it’s Drakarys, it has a y sound not an e,” he was annoyed as he tried to teach you the commands, growing more impatient with every mistake you made yet you tried again.

“Draakarys!” He sighed and tsk’ed again, “wrong again, your first a vowel should be shorter, listen closely,” he looked towards where Vermax stood, a safe distance away from you both “Drakarys!”

He said it with great confidence and you both watch as Vermax released fire upon the ground, burning away the grass and insects. The prince looked towards with a smug smile, before saying you should try again. You turned towards where your dragon stood, even further away from you both and also a safe distance from Vermax. You took a deep breath and readied yourself,

“Drakarys!” you commanded, and you watched with pride as the cannibal unleashed a large fire onto the field, you had not felt the heat of Vermax’s flame but the heat of the cannibal’s was unavoidable. You let out a gleeful laugh, proud to have finally done it.

“Did you see that?” you looked at him with happiness and pride, “It worked!” he only spared you a small glance before saying, “it took you long enough.” In an instant, your happiness and pride were trampled upon, and anger surged within you.

“Well fuck you,” you said, walking away towards your dragon, eager to be away from the prince. He stormed after you, “How dare you?!” he shouted as he neared you, “Need I remind you that I am a prince of the realm?!”

You turned to face him, rolling your eyes. “Do not roll your eyes at me!” He shouted, eyes filled with a burning fury. “Why not?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, so close that you were nearly touching his nose with your own, breaths becoming mingled. Your heart beating ferociously due to the proximity, “Will you chop off my head? Feed me to your dragon?” You knew it was reckless, to taunt him so, but this man brought out the worst within you. He did not reply. “Thought so,” you said, ignoring your racing heart.

Breaths uneven as you stood there so close to him, looking into his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, framed by gorgeous brown curls. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful. It made your heart race and your mind desire things it should not. You almost reached out to tuck away a stray piece of his hair that had blown in his face. The moment broke however when he cleared his throat and took a step back, “perhaps we should take a break for now.” You dropped your hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed what you were thinking of doing.

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” you agreed and walked towards your dragon, as did he. You patted the part of the Cannibal you were able to touch, cooing to him as you felt him growing restless. He was unused to this, the sitting stil, being commanded, everything. It had been a great challenge to get him saddled, it had almost ended with one of the dragonkeepers dying. Yet the bond you shared, however short, was strong. You felt the fear that he held within, and knew it well.

“Just a bit longer big guy,” you smiled up at him, but couldn’t not look him in the eye “I’ll ask if we can try flying now. ” You could almost swear that he responded when he let out a few clicking sounds and rumble from within his chest, near your hand, “Good boy,” you whispered as you gave him one last pat before making your way to the prince who was in deep conversation with his own dragon. “ziry amīvindī nykēla Vermax.”

The language he was speaking sounded strange in your ears, and you knew it must by High Valyrian because he spoke it to his dragon. His tone sounded annoyed, and you thought that whatever he was talking probably pertained to you. “ugh Issa kesīr,” he muttered as he noticed your approaching.

“The Cannibal wants to fly,” Jacaerys looked at you and sighed, ”Very well, let’s try flying.”He walked with you to your dragon and he was even so kind as to stabilise the netting you had climb up. Before you had started training the commands, you had practised sitting on the dragon, when the saddle was still on the ground. He had showed you how to strap in, how to use your buckles and the best way to hold your reigns, even if it was often with annoyance, he still did it.

He had told you to wait for him to fly to you before you were to even attempt the fly command, but you couldn’t wait. Anticipation bloomed within you alongside anxiety and you could feel the dragon brimming with a fiery energy. He wanted to fly, did not even wait for a command before reading himself. As he stretched out his winds you exclaimed “Sōvēs!”

You felt your heart hammer within your chest as the beast moved beneath you, breathing in and out at a rapid pace. It almost felt as though your heart would move so fast as to rip out of your chest. It was exhilarating. The moment your dragon set off, you let out a loud shriek before falling into a fit of hysterical giggles. Soon you were above the sky, holding onto the reigns for dear life as your mighty beast flew through clouds.

A smile was plastered on your face, your heart still beating miles per second. You felt invincible. With a few deep breaths you tried to steady your heartbeat, but it didn’t help much. Adrenaline filled your body and you could feel your hands shake slightly because of it. This ride you let yourself be guided by the cannibal, forgetting the young prince who had just saddled himself.

He was hurrying to get himself in the air, and although he didn’t personally mind if you fell to your death. His mother certainly would. Soon he was chasing after you, his small, young dragon much faster than yours, but you didn’t care. He saw you as he rose above the clouds. Beautiful silver blond hair shimmering in the sun with a wide smile unlike any he had ever seen.

For a moment he allowed himself to look at you unashamed, no other eyes observed him. There in the sky on top of the mighty beast, with the sun shining on you, you looked ethereal. There on his own dragon, he could momentarily shed the burdens on his shoulders. He could almost see all his worries and duties drift away in the wind. His eyes were focused on you, your gleeful laughter, your beauty, and for a moment you were not a bastard and he was not a prince.

You were dragonriders.

Yet reality never waited long to crash back down, he saw your head turn towards him but was not fast enough to turn his own. You were looking at him, and it felt like he was falling through the sky. Your smile fell and you waved at him awkwardly, which he reciprocated equally before turning to face forward, hiding the small hue of pink now dusting his cheeks.

Both dragons flew relatively close to the other, not too close you would be touching on another, but close enough that the riders could see each other. Your heartbeat had calmed down quite a bit, but you could still feel it beating furiously. Never had you ever been so free. If you so desired you could take your mount and fly away, away from this war, away from the arrogant prince. You could fly to Braavos, or Pentos. Anywhere and everywhere was now within your reach.

You looked back to the castle and knew that those thoughts were pretty dreams, you had made a promise. A promise that you would fight in this war, that you would fight for the queen and you knew you couldn’t not break it for it was a promise made to more than Rhaenyra Targaryen, it was also a secret promise you made to him.

“I wonder if you were looking at me now,” you whispered as you looked up further into the sky, hands tight on the reigns, “what would you say?”

No response came.

You had underestimated the strength that dragonriding demanded. The moment your feet touched solid ground, your legs started wobbling whether because of the leftover adrenaline or the simple fact they used more muscle than expected. Jacaerys Velaryon had descended with every grace expected of a prince, and made his way over to you.

No doubt to scold you over your disregard of his direction, or because you didn’t fly as pretty as he did. Whatever it may have been, it didn’t matter. The moment he reached you, your legs gave out and simple fell to the ground with a loud thud. All the scolding he was going to do was forgotten as he tried (and failed) to surpass a laugh at the scene.

“Ha Ha very funny,” you said as you looked up to him, slightly embarrassed at your predicament. “Could you help me up?” you asked, extending your hands to him. He nodded while trying to suppress a smile. He looked pretty like that you thought, he had looked prettiest in the sky with his curls flowing in the wind, the sun casting a glow around him like a halo.

He helped you up quickly, even holding your hands as you steadied yourself. Although both your hands were hidden beneath leather, you could’ve sworn you could feel their warmth. The moment the thought crossed your mind, you pulled them back. “Thank you,” you said, turning away to look at The Cannibal, as he was being unsaddled by a few dragonkeepers, with great effort on their part. They were terrified of the beast, and he was equally as terrified of them.

You could feel it, and even hear it in the tone of his shrieks. “Where will he go now,” you asked to the prince, eyes focused on your beast. “If he wants he can follow us to the caves, but most likely he has his own cave somewhere,” he looked at the beast briefly before turning his eyes to the back of your head, “perhaps he will take you to his lair someday. “

You turned to him, catching his eyes. “I hope so.” He was about to say something when a loud gurgling interrupted him, embarrassment crossed over your features when your realised that it was your stomach. Whatever he was going to say was lost as he laughed once more. “Don’t laugh,” you say, hardly able to suppress your own smile, “Dragon riding is hungry business!” A sentiment that caused him to laugh even harder.

For a moment, all previous hiccups were forgotten and only laughter remained. However the moment did not last long, a knight came from the castle summoning the both of you for supper. Perfect for your gurgling stomach, less perfect for what you thought was a budding friendship between you both. His laughter and smile faded, leaving behind the stoic prince from before. “

We should get going,” he said, “the queen does not like to be kept waiting.” You nodded and followed after him, his shoulders were tense and from the way his lips pursed you could assumed his jaw was equally as tense.

Dinner with the queen was a grand affair. The moment you set foot in your chambers the maids pounced on you to get you ready, your riding garb was thrown off and replaced with hot bath water. They did not give you time to protest, as they scrubbed your body clean and replaced the smell of dragon with the smell of lavender. They then dressed you in a fine dress of dark red fabric, with small dragon details around the cuffs and neckline.

“Curtsy from princess Baela,” one of the maids had said, before starting on your hair. By the end of the full makeover you looked unlike yourself. Dressed in such fine clothing, your hair was let half up and half down, a small braid in the back keeping long tresses out of your eyes. They tried to adorn you with a beautiful necklace made of small rubies, but you refused in favour of the silver necklace you brought from home. A reminder of your humbler beginnings, yet also a harbinger of the new things that came.

Soon you were seated at a grand table, not remember how you even got here with how fast it all went. On your right the seat was empty, on your left was the tall handsome man from this morning. In front of him was another dragonseed, with his hair in a half up ponytail and in front of you was the man with the beard.

“Good evening,” you muttered as you looked to them, your fellow dragonseeds. “Good evening,” the man on your left said, smiling brightly. The man in front of you smiled as well, “Good evening.” However the other man was too occupied with his cup to ever pay attention to the other. The man to your left leaned in closer to you, “my name is Addam,” he said, then motioning towards the man in front of him, “That’s Ulf, and the one next to him is Hugh,” You nodded, “I’m Y/N,” nice to meet you,” Addam smiled even brighter at you, “You’re the one that claimed The Cannibal right? We’ve all been very eager to meet you.”

You nodded at that, “Indeed. And what about you? Who did you claim?” “Seasmoke,” he said, his voice filled with pride, you looked towards Ulf, who now had tuned into the conversation. “I claimed Silverwing! Fast little thing she is,” he smiled smugly at you.

You turned to Hugh who had looked at Ulf with annoyance, before turning to meet your eyes. “Vermithor,” he spoke and he saw as your eyes widened. “The bronze one in the dragonpit?” You asked, bewildered that someone managed to claim that ferocious beast. He smiled a little shyly and nodded, “Yeah that’s the one.”

The conversation came to standstil as the doors opened to reveal the queen herself, wearing her golden crown. Behind her were her son and a young girl you didn’t know, with white curls and dark skin. She was pretty and as she walked you could tell she was a princess. You, Addam and Hugh immediately rose to your feet, whereas Ulf was still to busy examining his cups.

You gave him a pointed look as Hugh muttered “get up.” With clumsy feet he rose from the chair, almost knocking it over. All bowed before the queen and her entourage, although it was with little grace and wobbling knees.

As the queen was seated you were all allowed to sit down once more, servants delivered plates of food. Fruits and vegetables you never had to opportunity to taste, there were even these little bird like things. You had seen them before, but no longer remembered the name.

Ulf was quick to dig in, not waiting for anyone, or for a prayer. A part of you felt slightly annoyed at his rudeness, another part of you wanted to follow his lead. Never in your whole life had you seen this much food. He ate messily, yet you could not really blame him. It was not as though there were schools of etiquette back in Flea Bottom.

Due to Ulf’s impatience the order of things had been slightly altered and you noticed how it didn’t go over well with the royals at the table. The prince looked as though he would rather be dead, and the princess in front of him tried her hardest to remain neutral. The queen smiled tensely as she asked everyone to please dig in. On your plate you had stacked a variety of food, a little bird, beans, some potatoes. You wished to have a taste of everything, to savour every piece, because you knew that this opportunity was a rare one.

“You’ve got to taste the fish,” the man next to you excitedly said with a warm smile. You smiled back at him, “I will,-” you motioned towards your small bird-”but first this.” He nodded, before nudging your shoulders, “Look’s like Ulf is enjoying them,” he laughed along with you as you both watched Ulf absolutely devour the birds. Your laughter drew the stare of the prince, his big brown eyes focused on you and Addam as you conversed with one another.

The staring resulted in a nudge to the foot by the princess in front of him who looked at him with puzzled brows. “More wine here!” Ulf proclaimed, interrupting the conversation between Addam and you, “taming a dragon is thirsty work.” As he said that you rolled your eyes, but you soon regained your composure as you saw the queen grab her cup and stand. Your eyes turned to her, but not for long for Ulf once more spoke up “Oh, and some of these little bird.”

You looked at Addam who was looking at his food, head bowed slightly letting out a sigh. You could tell his was embarrassed in Ulf’s place. You eyes then went back to the queen who looked most displeased.

“A toast,” the queen spoke, “to our new riders.” The whole room fell silent at her words, eyes upon her, cutlery laid to rest. “The four of you are not of noble birth but you have done a thing never dreamed of before now,” All at the table rose their cups, some more enthusiastically then others you noticed as you finally dared to sneak a glance at the prince.

The queen sat back down, and drank the wine, a silent permission of all to do the same. She was however not done with her speech, “I have entrusted you with a power only few have known. And I charge you to take it up with fealty and respect,” she smiled at the four of you, “Serve me well and I will you knights and lady of the realm.” All eyes were on her, before Ulf opened his mouth, much to everyone’s annoyance. “Huh? What do you think of that, boys?” he asked in a slightly mocking manner, “We’ll be knights…just like that.”

The smile on his face made you uncomfortable, the food visible in his mouth. Hugh and Addam did not respond to his words, the later responding only to the queen, “we will not fail you, my queen,” he said, looking away from Ulf and instead towards her.

After Addam, Hugh also spoke up, “What must we do?” He asked nervously. The queen darted her eyes to the side, thinking over her words before responding, “I had thought that the mere fact of you might stay the enemy’s hand.” Her eyes roamed over you all, a slight tone of regret seeping into her voice, “but lord Corlys is right. We must strike while we have the advantage,” she looked briefly towards her son, before returning her gaze to the other, ”and end this war.”

You nodded at her words, knowing that she was right. The enemy might be deterred for but they won’t be for long. If you didn’t strike now, they will. You looked to others, saw as the princess leaner forward slightly in her chair. Her features were covered in slight surprise as the queen continued, “learn your beasts and your commands. You will fly in two days time.”

You took a deep breathe in, gnawing at your bottom teeth. The appetite you had suddenly disappeared with growing anxiety taking its place but she was not done speaking yet. “The strongholds of the usurper, Oldtown and Lannisport, and their armies, all must be subdued,” she put great emphasis on the last words, as she looked each of you in the eyes.

“Alone, without allies, he will have no choice but to surrender.” You understood her reasoning, yet her words implied you would be putting to death hundreds, thousands of people. Innocent people. A thought you apparently shared with the princess, “you wish for us to kill innocents.” “And so many,” Hugh added, a look of disbelief on his face. “It is hard,” the prince interjected,”but it cannot be helped.” The way he spoke about it so calmly made you mimic’s Hugh’s look.

You were no stranger to death, nor to what causes death, yet to have such a responsibility upon your shoulders. It was nauseating. You didn’t speak up, you knew this was expected, you had made a deal after all. In the background you could hear Ulf grunt as the prince and queen exchanged a look. “We must break the will of our enemy,” the queen spoke, “or more will die in a struggle that stretches on without end.” What she said was true, but didn’t ease the guilt that was already weighing on you.

“What about Vhagar?” Addam asked, knowing that none of your dragons were a match for her, safe for maybe The Cannibal but he was not battle trained, not in a way that Vhagar was. The queen leaned forward a slight smile on her lips in an effort to reassure him, “she is fearsome… but she is one dragon. The prince regent cannot defend against all of us.” You wanted to say something, ask about who should face her. You were readying yourself to speak up, but were too late. “I’ll take him on myself,” Ulf said, drunk on wine and good food, “Silverwing’s a goer, she is.”

He waved around his finger to mimic a dragon flying, “we’re afraid of nothing.” Addam looked at him disapprovingly, but Ulf continued, “even if you are.” A sentence that you knew agitated Addam, you could see it in his posture as he spoke, “there will be time enough,”- he turned his head to look Ulf directly in the eye-”to see which one of us is a coward.” Ulf only smiled in response, before turning towards where the servants stood, raising his cups and demanding once more that they bring him more little birds. An act that greatly displeased all the others at the table. The queen tried to reprimand him softly by stating, “A knight will comport himself with grace at the queen’s table.” It didn’t work on Ulf however, who responded, “best make me a knight, then.” A statement that earned him sharp glares from the princess.

“You forget yourself,” the prince stated, “friend.” It was said in a tone that indicated he did not want to be messed with, his jaw was set once more. However the statement had another emotiong to it, as if it was a follow up to a conversation none of you were aware of excpet the prince and Ulf.

Ulf scoffed in response, grabbing his goblet. “ Sense of humour would do you all good,” he said before taking a big swig. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, and you hoped that the dinner would soon come to an end. A prayer that was answered quickly when the maester entered to room to whisper something into the ear of the queen.

The queen rose from her seat once more, but this time it was not to give a toast. You glanced towards the prince who was staring at his mother, for the first time this evening you really looked at him. His curls had been styled, his tunic a different one from before. This time he had no cape nor any red embellishments.

He looked handsome you thought, and as soon as the thought crossed your mind you looked a way. In the meantime the queen was in deep conversation with the maester and you could only pray that the new was good, but from the looks on either faces, that did not seem the case.

The queen soon turned back to the table, “Addam,” she called, the man looked startled upon hearing his name, “come with me.” In silence Addam followed after her, and you watched them both leave. Ulf finally received his birds, yet your appetite was long gone.

You pushed yourself off your chair, and bowed to the prince and princess, you knew was expected. “I wish to retire to my room,” you said, watching the both of them exchange glances before they nodded. The princess smiled at you, “you may go,” she said and you nodded to her in response.

You walked towards your rooms, your stomach twisted and turned as you mulled over all that had just happened. The inevitable was soon to come. Westeros was at war, a war in which you swore you would participate. A promise you had perhaps made too quickly, yet could not take back.

Blood was already on your hands, were you truly ready to add more?

Tagslist (open)

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(A dash after the @ sign means that I wasn't able to tag your blog for some reason. Sorry💔)

[julek]

read on ao3

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice calls through the noise of the streets, making him turn. He’s wearing a long coat, blue like the ocean and trimmed with white fur, and is graciously carrying a remarkable amount of shopping bags in his arms as the door to the luthier’s shop closes behind him. “Fancy meeting you here, my friend.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow as Jaskier falls into step beside him. “Bard,” he nods.

“What are you doing here, of all places?” He gestures with an armful of satchel and lute, a bright pink notebook peeking out of one of his bags.

“Provisions,” Geralt says, eyeing his, for once, almost overflowing bag. “I’m stocking up. Heading North soon.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, and the feather on his — rather ridiculous, if you ask Geralt — matching blue hat falls just shy of his eyes, clear and bright in the midday sun. “What a funny coincidence.”

Geralt hums. “What do you mean?”

Jaskier playfully swats Geralt’s shoulder, and he’s so pleased with himself Geralt can almost smell it. “Why, it must be fate,” he says dreamily. “I’m also heading North myself!”

“How come?”

“Well,” Jaskier begins, and his tone indicates there’s a story to be told, and no, Geralt, you won’t be getting out of it, as he loops his arm around Geralt’s, “as it turns out, I was invited to take up residence in a castle for the winter.”

“Really?” Geralt asks conversationally, his eyes discreetly scanning the price of rolled oats as they stroll across the market street.

“Really,” Jaskier confirms. His eyes also wander around, trailing after a shiny pendant by a stall. He shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present. “An acquaintance of mine realized he and his family would well benefit from my presence this season.”

“Hmm.” Geralt clicks his tongue at the outrageous number scribbled on the price tag of a deck of Gwent cards. Soul-sucking bastards. “And they’re paying you how much?”

Jaskier splutters, not-so-playfully swatting Geralt’s shoulder. “How dare you imply such a thing! I do not sell my company, no matter what one talentless wastrel Valdo Marx may tell you. Of course they’ve invited me as a friend— I’m basically part of the family by now. They’ve been insisting I visit them for years.”

“And this... friend of yours,” Geralt says distractedly, scanning a pair of leather boots on sale. They’re too thin. “How come I’ve never heard of them?”

“Oh, he’s just shy. Or so he says— you should see him drunk.” He takes some inexistent lint off his coat. “He’s addicted to his work — though sometimes he’ll indulge in some small luxuries. Card games and bubble baths, you see.”

“Hmm.” Geralt offers his coin to a merchant for some fresh thyme. “He sounds interesting.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no. He thinks he’s a big deal, you know— carries himself with importance and purpose, but he’s actually quite dull. You see, he practically had to beg me to come with him this winter.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Jaskier continues, carrying Geralt over to a stand with dried flowers and notebooks on it. “So sad, indeed — he was so worried I’d turn him down.” He inspects some dried lavender. “Showered me with praise and gifts.”

“Huh,” Geralt says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why’d you accept, then? If he’s such a drag?”

“Well...” Jaskier considers, his face scrunched up, the way he does when he’s thinking. “He’s awfully sweet, you know. So attentive, so caring... he’s always there for me.”

“Sounds like a good guy, then.”

“Mmm— hey!” Jaskier exclaims as he’s steered away from an enticing stand full of books. He scowls at Geralt. “He can be an arse, actually. I forgot to mention that bit.”

Geralt smirks. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Yes, well,” Jaskier says, inspecting his nails as Geralt checks the price of a tall bottle of Skelligan rum. “You are not the one about to spend four months holed up with him, locked away in a freezing fortress.”

“You’re right,” Geralt agrees. “But there’s this one idiot my brothers are forcing me to take to Kaer Morhen with me, so I understand your pain.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes so hard they’re almost closed. “Really!” He says, yanking Geralt by the arm with more force than necessary as they continue to walk through the market stalls. “He sure must be wonderful, if your brothers are so adamant about having him there.”

Geralt shakes his head. “Their judgment is clouded. Too many potions can do that to a Witcher.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Jaskier says under his breath. “Why don’t you just ditch this lovely, handsome, sorely misunderstood friend of yours? Why not leave him behind?”

They’ve reached the end of the square, the murmur of the market now behind them. “Well,” Geralt begins, and his tone indicates that they’ll have to leave soon, and no, Jaskier, we can’t stay another day, as he turns to look at Jaskier, “Unfortunately,” he moves forward, until their noses are brushing, “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his breath warm against Geralt’s cheek, lips curled around a smile. “Well, I couldn’t possibly blame you. The man does sound marvelous.”

Geralt slips his hands around Jaskier’s waist, his fingers playing with the fur of his coat. Roach’s waiting for them — he can hear the impatient stomping of her feet in her stall across the street.

He smiles. “He is,” he murmurs, “even though I’ll have to hire four mules and a cart just to carry his doublets.”

“And hats, dear,” Jaskier adds with a grin.

“Oh, yes. And hats.” Geralt nudges his nose against Jaskier’s, reveling in the way it makes him laugh. It tickles, he’d told him once. “Too bad you’ll be locked away with your boring friend. You won’t be able to meet mine.”

A cart drives by, bringing Jaskier closer into Geralt’s touch. Tipping his hat back, he wraps his arms over the Witcher’s shoulders. “Well…” He sighs, like it’s such a hardship to be enveloped in Geralt’s warmth. “Maybe I was a bit harsh on him. He’s quite lovely, in truth.”

The air is thick with the scent of fresh bread from the nearby bakery. “He is, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier says, coy. “He’ll even hire four mules and a cart, just to carry my doublets.”

“And hats,” Geralt reminds him.

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier says with a giggle. “I’m rather glad he invited me to come with him, you know. I’ve got something important to tell him.”

“Yeah?” Geralt squeezes his waist. “And what’s that?”

Jaskier licks his lips. “That I’m in love with him, too.”

Geralt can’t contain his smile as he leans forward and kisses him, sweet and soft. Jaskier tastes like honey — probably from licking it off his fingers from those pastries Geralt bought for him early in the morning, as bait to get him out of bed — and he sighs happily into his mouth.

“Well,” he says when they part, flattening his palms on the front of Geralt’s armour. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time together.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agrees. “You too.”

Jaskier kisses him one more time, a quick peck to his lips. “Take care. And do give your friend my regards. I hope to meet him someday.”

“Will do,” Geralt says solemnly.

They look at each other for a minute, a staring contest gone to waste as Jaskier’s lips curl around an unbidden smile. Geralt can’t help but mirror him.

“So,” he says brightly, taking Geralt’s hand in his own and starting toward the stables. His eyes gleam and Geralt loves him. “Do we have enough carrots and apples for Roach for the way up? I don’t want her taking it out on my hair, Geralt, you know how she gets…”

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

12: Past Tense [Claire]

I’d been dreaming of Jamie.

I had dreamed of his hands roving all over me, touching me, pleasuring me. I thought I had dreamt his hand on my breast, his arousal pressed against my bum, and I shamelessly ground my body on his, in my lust-fueled dream. The sound of his voice had hit me and it had stopped being a dream.

I’d made it become reality. I’d gone for broke and kissed him, and more. What on earth had possessed me to do that?

You’re insanely attracted to him, that’s why.

He hadn’t rejected me, and for that I was grateful. But now paranoia had set in and I was worried about what our encounter would do to our budding friendship. Afterwards, I had felt a little stilted and awkward. He gave no outward sign of discomfort, but was attentive and polite as usual.

But now that I knew what Jamie looked like in the throes of passion, starting a conversation became doubly hard. The roads had been cleared, the snow storm having spent itself in a night. After breakfast with his family and being hugged goodbye by everyone (including my vague promise to Ellen about coming back soon), he had driven me home; the radio was on a little bit loud, breaking up the silence between us. We managed a few half-smiles, a brush of hands here and there, and a promise to call each other soon. We had a wedding to attend, after all.

I had a few texts from Louise and a voicemail, who wanted to go over the flower arrangements one final time, now that the wedding invitations had been mailed and RSVPs were pouring in, including mine. The wedding was set in a few weeks, right before Christmas. The shop was closed on Mondays, but I texted her back so we could meet up later that week. I did a load of laundry. I went over some invoices for the shop. And all the while, in the back of my head, the memory of Jamie’s mouth and hands on me lingered.

The ringing of my phone startled me out of my reverie; Jamie Fraser flashed on the screen, and my heart pounded in double-time. The tension in my shoulders eased and I felt something unclench in my stomach I hadn’t even realized was there.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sassenach, it’s Jamie. Well, o’ course ye ken that, mobiles show ye who’s calling, don’t they. But why do we always answer the phone like we dinna ken who’s calling, right?”

“Hi, Jamie. You know, you’re right about that. I’ll start answering my phone differently from now on.” I laughed, set further at ease by the Scottish burr of his voice.

“Och, weel, I just wanted to thank ye for accompanying me to lunch. And being so nice to my family. They absolutely loved ye, I think ye could tell. And I wanted to say… sorry. I guess. For the… this morning, ye ken. In case ye were regretting it. Or if ye think I was out of line.”

“Actually, Jamie, I was hoping you didn’t think I was out of line.” My hands fiddled with the papers on the table. “I think I was pretty clear about what I wanted. But maybe you didn’t want to be pawed at and I don’t want you to think that it’s all I wanted from you. You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t want this to come between us.”

“Friend?” Jamie repeated.

“Of course, I consider you my friend,” I said, confused. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Aye, of course, Claire.” He paused. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask ye. As friends, then.”

“Sure.”

“I meant to ask ye out. On a proper date.” Jamie’s tone went up on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“A date.”

“A real one. Not just coffee—unless that’s what ye would like, of course. But I thought perhaps dinner.”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate any longer. My fingers gripped the phone tightly, and the swooping feeling of butterflies was back in my stomach, but for a good reason.

“Really?” Jamie asked, incredulous.

I laughed again. “Yes, Jamie, I’m saying yes. Would this Friday be alright?”

“Sounds perfect. Shall I pick ye up at 7? Did ye have anything in mind that ye’d like?”

“Whatever you choose will be fine. I trust you.”

He didn’t know how much.

- - -

For the rest of the week, I spent my days dreaming about my date with Jamie. Date, date, date. A real date. I put in flower orders for bouquets and tended to the indoor plant boxes that held rosemary, parsley, and thyme, but all the while my thoughts were with Jamie.

After meeting Louise on Friday morning for some final wedding details, I left the shop in a hurry, already planning my outfit in my head. Dress up, or seem casual? Maybe a mix of both? As I ransacked my closet, pulling out shirts and jeans and the few dresses I owned, I decided to call Geillis.

“I have a date tonight.” I didn’t even bother to say hello as soon as she answered.

“Ye do?” Geillis Duncan was one of the few people in Glasgow who’d made Frank and me feel welcome back when we were new to the city. She owned a small but popular café near the flower shop. Our friendship had survived my breakup; it dawned on me that we hadn’t talked to each other in a couple of weeks, and she knew nothing about Jamie. I filled her in on some of the details, keeping the most recent private ones to myself.

“So he’s picking me up in like, an hour, and I don’t know what to wear!” I wailed, trying to zip up the back of a dress and giving up in frustration.

“It sounds like ye’re overthinking this, Beauchamp,” Geillis said. “Why don’t I come over now and lend ye my black skirt ye like so much and the yellow top? It’ll bring out the color of yer eyes, I’m sure Jamie will love ye in it.” She was giggling madly at the idea.

“Don’t tease me, Geil, I’m so not in the mood right now. But thank you.”

We hung up, and twenty minutes later she was at my door, helping me with my hair and make-up after I had dressed. I knew there was an ulterior motive to her being at my flat, and she confirmed in no uncertain terms that she wanted to see Jamie herself.

“Geillis, please don’t—”

“Relax, Claire. I just want to see the lad’s whose bonny red hair has ye in such a fluster.”

“You have red hair, you know.”

Geillis clucked. “’Tis not the same, and ye ken it. When will he be here?”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the front door. It was promptly seven o’clock, and I glanced at Geillis in a panic. She smoothed down the skirt and pushed me towards the entrance. Heart pounding, very much aware that Geillis was peering gleefully around the hall for a glimpse of Jamie, I opened the door to find a very dapper Jamie. In dark jeans, a pressed sky-blue shirt and a black coat. The hues of his outfit brought out the intense sapphire of his eyes as his own gaze raked me over and seemed please at what he saw. I blushed.

“Hello, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek and his fingers lingered briefly on my arm. I caught the scent of his cologne, like tart lemons and spice.

“Hi, Jamie.” We stood there for a few seconds that seemed an eternity, before a loud harrumph and a fake cough from Geillis broke us out of our reverie. Jamie peered into the flat as I quickly grabbed my purse from the kitchen table where I’d left it before.

“Is there someone here with ye, Sassenach?”

“It’s my friend Geillis, but don’t worry, you don’t need to meet her and she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Geil?” I raised my voice for her benefit as I led Jamie out of the flat. “Lock up when you go!” I shut the door on one of her loud laughs; I was sure to hear from her later.

We walked to the stairs and Jamie tentatively reached for my hand. I grasped it firmly and squeezed in reassurance. Traipsing down the stairs, and remembering the last time we had done so together, I felt stupidly happy and shy all at once.

The restaurant he’d chosen was a low-key pub tucked into one of Glasgow’s winding alleys. We ordered wine and the awkwardness that I’d feared after our previous encounter was gone. Jamie and I talked animatedly about our week; my preparations for the upcoming wedding and flower arrangements, and he told me of the distillery and all the Christmas orders they had to fill.

“I was thinking of a new special blend; aging whisky in tequila barrels, not regular oak. The flavor is more complex, so different from what I’ve tasted. I plan to call it something like da anam, two souls.”

“That sounds very different! Where would you get the barrels?”

Jamie spoke of partnering up with several tequila producers in Mexico, as I speared rosemary potatoes with my fork; all the while we poured glass after glass of ruby wine for each other. Conversation flowed between us just as effortlessly.

Over dessert sometime later, I felt the back of my neck prickling. I sensed eyes on me, and they weren’t Jamie’s. It felt wrong, somehow.

I turned my head slightly and found Frank looking at me. He was with Sandy; he quickly bowed his head and shifted his attention elsewhere. I felt my face flush. I swiveled back and dropped my fork with a clatter.

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—it-it’s Frank.”

“Where?” He looked around wildly and I shushed him and clamped my hands on his arm in desperation.

“He’s back there, with the blonde. Just—be discreet.” Jamie got a good long look and then leaned in to whisper quietly.

“Didn’t ye say Sandy—his fiancée, with the giant ring ye mentioned. Wasn’t she supposed to be pregnant?”

“She might have had the baby, I don’t know. Her stomach was pretty big last time I saw her.” I sneaked another look.

It wasn’t Sandy.

She was blonde like Frank’s fiancée, but this wasn’t her. She looked even younger, fresher-faced, and was definitely not pregnant.

Cheating, lying, bastard.

I took deep breaths and Jamie ran a hand soothingly down my back. I shivered and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair.

“Jamie, I’m sorry, can we go?”

“Of course, Sassenach.” After quickly settling the check, he stood up as unobtrusively as a six-foot man ever could and pulled out my chair. He put his arm around me as we walked quickly to the exit.

It was inevitable that we pass by Frank’s table, though. The restaurant was a bit crowded and the layout made it impossible to avoid him. As we did, I got up the courage to meet his eye, bolstered by Jamie’s warm hand on my back. He wore a shamed expression, and could not hold my gaze. The woman stared back curiously at us, and I heard her ask him who I was.

“No one,” Frank replied, a slight tremor in his voice. Jamie tightened his grip on me, and I knew he’d heard him too.

Jamie came to a sudden halt near their table; he turned to face me, and with a soft whispered, “I hope ye dinna mind this,” pressed a soft kiss to my pursed lips. I opened my mouth in surprise, and he continued to probe gently. I found my arms rising to encircle his waist, clutching at the back of his coat. I dimly heard Frank clear his throat and murmur something unintelligible. I had ceased to care, though, lost in the fog of kissing Jamie.

Jamie’s mouth trailed across my cheek. “Dinna listen to him, Sassenach,” he whispered as he nuzzled my ear. “Ye’re so much more than ye know.”

- - -

A/N: I finished writing it out, so new chapters will post on Thursday. Finally, a schedule! The whisky in tequila barrels is actually a thing. Can’t find an English link, though. Thanks for all your likes, reblogs, comments. <3

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Dandelion | Attention

Prompt: "You never have time for me anymore."

Word count: 2300+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. With crossed arms, I leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the Rosemary and Thyme, eyeing some drunk bastards drooling over the girl that was singing. She gave them a few disgusted looks. 'Gentlemen, behave.' I warned. The singer smiled gratefully at me as the men decided to leave her alone. Her voice sounded pretty soothing. I believe that her name was Quincy. Every now and then she would perform here, and guests loved it. That was what mattered most, right? Always the guests. My gaze fell onto my lover, Dandelion, who was standing close to the entrance, scribbling down notes in a book that seemed like our register. Every night he would stand there. Counting the coin that was coming in at night. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. He smiled and I approached him, a fake laugh covering my features. 'Hello darling, how are you doing tonight?' he asked, not looking up to face me anymore. My expression fell into a frown. 'I am alright.' 'There are not enough guests.' Dandelion seemed to be completely oblivious to my sour tone. 'If we don't have some more tonight, it will be water and bread for the rest of the week.' I put my hands on my hips, the corners of my lips falling downward. 'That sucks.' I said in a sarcastic tone. He frowned, looking up. 'It looks like you aren't moved by that knowledge at all, (Y/n). Why don't you try to sell some more drinks instead of listening to the music only?' My jaw fell agape. 'Excuse me? Haven't you paid any attention to my discomfort?' He opened his mouth to say something, but I put up my hand. 'No, Dandelion, I don't want to hear it.' Without letting him stop me, I stormed to our bedroom with angry paces. '(Y/n), wait!' he called after me. I did not listen and stubbornly slammed the door behind me. I walked towards the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. I inhaled deeply, letting the oxygen fill my lungs to calm myself down. It wasn't long until Dandelion entered the room, his eyes filled with confusion and even a bit of anger. 'What the hell are you making a scene for? Three guests left!' 'So what?!' I barked, turning to face him. I made sure that every inch of anger that I could express was poured into my words. 'What is the fucking matter with you?!' Dandelion yelled, 'This business is important to us! What the fuck is wrong?!'

"You never have time for me anymore." My lip had involuntary started to tremble as I crossed my arms over my chest. 'It's always work with you. Rosemary and Thyme is more important to you than I am. Sometimes I even wonder why I am still here.' Dandelion's angry eyes changed, flickering with shame now. 'You... You really feel that way?' I gave him a sharp nod, turning my face away from him. 'Darling, I didn't know! Why didn't you tell me sooner? If it bothers you so much, I can give you some more attention! I promise to be with you more often.' I scoffed. 'Your promises mean nothing anymore, Dandelion. You made me so much ever since we got together, and how many of them have been fulfilled?' His shoulders slumped in a desperate way and he reached out for me, but I stepped back. 'At least one of them.' he whispered, 'That I will always love you. I love you, (Y/n).' I squinted my eyes. 'Prove it. Close the Rosemary and Thyme just one day a week so we can spend it together.' Dandelion chewed on his lip. 'As much as I would like to go out with you, you know we need to pay the rent and bills. We need the inn, you know that.' 'So money is more important to you, huh?' A tear escaped my eye and leaked down my cheek. '(Y/n), please, you don't know w-' 'Don't even try, Dandelion, you can take your excuses on why you want to save money and stick it where the sun don't shine!' '(Y/n), hear me out!' 'No!' I turned towards the door, ready to leave. 'I am going to stay at a friend's place for a while. I will come back in a week or so, just make up your fucking mind and then we can talk.' My hand twisted the doorknob, but Dandelion's sudden presence close behind me made me halt in my tracks. 'What do y-' 'I have been saving up gold so I can ask you to marry me.' My hand slipped, falling back to my side. I stood frozen, not able to move or speak. 'I wanted it to be a surprise. I've been withholding money ever since we started courting so I could pay for our eventual wedding. With a beautiful dress, flowers and cake...' I finally gathered the courage to turn around and faced him. 'That is why I need the inn to be open all the time. Otherwise we will not be able to both pay the rent and have a proper wedding.' My hand went up to cup his cheek. 'Oh, Julian... I didn't know. I am so sorry for yelling at you. If you had told me sooner, I-' 'Don't be sorry, dearest. As I said, I wanted to surprise you. But right now, the surprise factor is a bit low.' I smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his lips. 'Come.' I whispered, taking his hand in mine as I guided him to the bed. I sat down, my fingers starting to unlace the front of my corset. 'If we are going to get married one day, might as well try to have a baby.' Dandelion chuckled, taking his headgear from his brunet locks, tossing it into the room. 'Here, let me help you with that.' He grabbed my hands, squeezing them gently as he leaned over me, his mouth pressing against mine. His tongue toyed teasingly with my lips, waiting to get an answer that he could wrestle it with mine. I laughed, my arms wrapping around his waist to pull him on top of me. A grin spread over his lips as he finally finished undoing my corset. He slipped it off my body, cupping my covered breasts in his palms. I tangled in his hair as he kissed me intensely, and I grew breathless at his body rubbing up against mine. His mouth wandered to kiss my neck, sucking softly whilst I tugged at his shirt, wanting to take it off him. He pulled back for a second, stepping back to strip himself from the purple attire. My hands instantly roamed over his chest, running through the soft, dark hairs that were visible on his skin. He shuddered at the touch, 'cold hands,' he whispered, nuzzling one of the fresh bruises in my neck that he had created. 'Dandelion, just fuck me.' 'Everything in due time, (Y/n).' The sound of his chuckle against my body made me shiver in anticipation. I could practically smell my own arousal from under my dress.

After a few other heated kisses, Dandelion reached to the hem of my skirt, lifting it over my head so I was in nothing but my panties, which were soaked with how excited I was for him to carry on. Goosebumps covered me at the stroking of his fingertips over my sides. 'You look so beautiful.' I smiled. 'You always say that when I am naked.' 'I want to remind you of it.' He towered over me, kissing my forehead before pecking my collarbone, down to my breasts. He licked in between them before circling his tongue around one of my nipples. I arched my back, moaning lightly as he sucked softly on the hard bud. He massaged the other one, letting it fill his warm palm, gently squeezing the soft flesh. For a moment, he switched sides, now engulfing the other side with his mouth whilst the other was being played with, the nipple red and sensitive. 'Do I really need to share those one day with a child?' he playfully whined with a smirk, cupping the mounds in his hands. I hummed, bucking my hips so his groin teasingly rubbed against my core. Dandelion groaned, pulling back from my body. I immediately missed his warmth hovering above me. He pushed his trousers to his ankles, stepping out of them after taking his shoes off. His member stood up straight as he removed his underwear, glistening in the soft light of the candles that illuminated the room.

With a quick movement, he got rid of my panties, putting them into his mouth to suck my essence from the fabric. I smiled as he eyed me up and down, his thumb slithering over my wet, hardened clitoris. I moaned softly as Dandelion started to part my folds with his middle and index finger, inspecting my dripping entrance as if he had never seen it before. 'Julian...' I whined as he gave a long lick over it, gathering my juices as if it was the nicest treat in the world. His long locks fell in front of his eyes, his beard tickling on the insides of my thighs. It didn't last long, the sensation of his hot breath on my lower abdomen and between my legs, because he crawled over my again, holding me up so I was laying on my side before taking the spot behind me. I rested against his naked body, his arm around my waist so he could guide the tip of his cock into me. I moaned as it slipped in, a sloppy sound audible in the room. Dandelion sighed, a deep chuckle coming from him as his mouth lingered on my neck. 'So tight and warm...' he uttered, licking across my earlobe, bucking his hips to thrust into me. I moaned, my hand resting on my breast as his body collided with mine with every roll of his body. Skin against skin echoed through the room, the erotic sound making this all the more exciting. I just hoped the guests downstairs didn't hear us. My arm reached back so I could tangle in Dandelion's hair, tugging at it as he bit down on my neck, breaking the skin as deep grunts filled my ear. I gasped, the hand that had been squeezing my own nipple going down to massage my clit. 'I could fuck you for hours...' Dandelion uttered, his voice nearly sending vibrations down my spine. 'Who said that I wouldn't let you?' He laughed, kissing the spot where neck and shoulder meet before pulling himself out, reaching over to take a hold of his own member again. He laid down on his back, attempting to flip me over so I could lay on top of him, but he failed miserably. '(Y/n), please ride me.'

I didn't have to hear that another time. I straddled his lap, my legs resting next to his hips as I lowered myself onto his cock. I bit my lip, throwing back my head as he filled me completely until I felt the tiny pubic hairs tease my clitoris. 'Fuck...' Dandelion hissed, putting his hands on my chest. I started rolling my hips, making lewd noises as the pleasure was nearly overwhelming. My lovers sweaty body glistened, his cock throbbing inside of me. 'You feel so good inside of me, Julian...' I moaned, leaning down to kiss him. 'Ride me harder, darling... Cum for me, please...' I sped up my bucking, now leaning back, my palms resting on his thighs so I could rapidly ride towards an orgasm. I made a few circular movements, making him grunt. 'You're so beautiful, (Y/n). Yes, please, please, harder!' he moaned, making me rub my clit whilst I collided into him and lifted myself off, crashing into him again and again. My toes had started to tingle as I curled them, the knot in my stomach tightening. 'Ah, yes, gorgeous. Touch yourself like that, darling.' Dandelion sighed, leaning up on his arms so he could look at me. He opened his mouth slightly, making eye-contact with me so I understood what to do. Three more thrusts and I came undone, squirting into his face as I moaned out, seeing stars as my head rolled back in pleasure. I kept on touching my clit, more of my essence coming out. Dandelion tried to catch as much as possible with his tongue, starting to laugh as soon as I had finished my high, sitting back down on him, panting heavily. 'That is what I call cumming for me...' he uttered, my juices leaking down his face. Exhausted, I let myself roll off his body.

Dandelion stood up, grabbing my thighs to pull me to the edge of the bed. He pulled up my legs so he could enter me yet again. 'Still need to finish, don't I?' I smiled, still not able to breathe again properly. He didn't waste any time and began pounding into me. His cock had started to weep sperm deep into me, heavy grunts leaving his lips. I didn't have the energy to reach a climax a second time, yet it came at me again with high speed. 'Dandelion...!' I whined, the air being pushed from my lungs as I came for the second time in two minutes, releasing onto his member. He pulled out, teasingly rubbing his cock against my folds, slapping my clitoris with the head as I squirted against his body yet again. He sighed deeply, a smile on his face. 'Wow...' he uttered as my orgasm finished. His body was sticky against mine as he laid down next to me, pulling me into his arms. I laughed, my chest raising up and down. 'I love you, (Y/n).' 'I know. I love you too.' For a few moments we were silent. 'Do you want to marry me?' I blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips as Dandelion whispered that question in my ear. 'Yes, I want to marry you.'

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 8 - Cherry (Part 1).

Lanque x Reader; SFW

More chapters here!

Nothing brightens your mood like roleplaying with Wanshi. And nothing sours your mood like Lanque’s presence.

Darlin', darlin', darlin' I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme And all of my peaches are ruined

- Lana Del Rey

Wanshi had summoned you for a roleplaying session one evening, and you were obligated to comply with her demands. The feisty girl pounced on you as soon as you arrived at the caverns and dragged you to the jadeblood hive, excitedly laying out the plans for your roleplaying session. You caught a brief glimpse of Daraya and waved at her, promising to pay her a visit later.

“[] so Where did We leave off on last time? []” Wanshi asked, swinging your hand around as she gripped it tightly in hers.

“I believe it must have been when … “ You drew out the last word dramatically, then carefully wrenched your hand away as you hunched over with fingers curled into claws, baring your teeth at her. “I, the mighty Twinklepaw, deliver unto you a prophetic dream of utter devastation, doom, and suffering that shall befall your people, for your foolish decision to assassinate Dewstar, leader of skycaste!"

Wanshi launched into character immediately, pupils narrowing into thin slits as she hissed at you. “[] the old fool’s days Were numbered! noW i, WildWhisp of solarglare clan, shall continue forging the path to unity of all purrbeast Warriors in the living World! []”

“The only fool I see is you, young one,” you emphatically said, pointing to her. “Heed my warning, for the land of dreams reveals … uh … the folly of your arrogance!”

“[] never! []” she shouted, and launched into a full sprint down the path ahead. You ran after her with a peel of laughter, ignoring the strange looks being thrown at you two by passersby.

Your roleplaying sessions typically got quite intense after you warmed up, and this time was no different. Wanshi led you through so many winding paths of the neighborhood that you truly felt like you were being transported into a mythical world, traversing through hives carved into the towering chasms of the caverns, past fields of glowing stalagmites, and ending up in a small garden behind what appeared to be a schoolhive.

After the foretold prophecy came to pass, Wildwhisp lay dying among a bloom of neon flowers and purple grass, reaching out for Twinklepaw’s comforting presence as she coughed up fake blood. A ringing bell echoed in the distance.

“[] it is the end for me, i fear, []” she rasped, grasping her chest and holding a hand up skyward while you cradled her little body.

“Hush now, and rest your weary soul,” you softly said.

“[] have i — []” She coughed once more. “[] have i truly made a mistake? led my people to ruin, despite attempting to evade your Warning? []”

You spotted a group of young jades running out of the schoolhive in your periphery. “It is the folly of living mortals to try to change fate. We search for the destinies we want to come to pass, and in doing so, we fulfill the inescapable tragedy of truth.”

Wanshi looked momentarily impressed by your monologue before dropping her head back and groaning dramatically, laying the back of her hand on her forehead. “[] i am not ready to die! []” she shouted, wincing in pretend from a phantom wound.

The soft crunch of footfalls were drawing near you from behind. “You belong to starcaste now, warrior! Do not fear the end, for it is merely the beginning!”

Wanshi let out a dramatic wail as you held her in your nap, letting loose loud gurgles of death. A shadow fell over her as a figure stopped beside you. She paid no attention to the interruption, finishing off her death scene by slumping into your hold, tongue sticking out comically and eyes closed.

You smiled fondly at the young girl before looking up to see who had arrived to witness your spectacle.

The judgmental glare of Lanque Bombyx stared down at you, lips curled in a sneer and arms crossed as he eyed you up.

All of your good mood promptly disappeared, and your smile quickly fell into a frown.

Wanshi took no notice of the change in atmosphere. Eyes still closed, she continued in a hushed whisper as a narrator, “[] With WildWhisp’s life-force slipping aWay by the second, an old friend enters the scene to save her. []” She peeked at Lanque from one eye and smiled. “[] only he can transform her into an undead Warrior — by drinking her blood! []”

“Play-time is over, Wanshi,” Lanque droned, earning a frustrated growl from her. “Didn’t you hear the bell? Your classes are starting any minute noW.”

She crawled off your lap and stood up, fists balled up at her sides. You followed, wiping grass from your pants while the two trolls engaged in a stare-off. “[] you knoW you Wanna join us! []”

The gears were turning in your head. Wanshi had mentioned some time ago that a male jadeblood played Soldier Purrbeasts with her …

“I think not.” Before your mind could wander, Lanque finally acknowledged you with an upturned nose. “Hello, alien. You do knoW that this is the last place you should find yourself, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a weak threat, even by your standards.”

“As much as I loVe dramatics, that’s not What I’m referring to. But I suppose I’ll haVe to spell it out for your feeble thinkpan — the caVerns are teeming With drones, and they Wouldn’t think tWice before rendering you into a puddle of goo.”

“My goodness, Lanque! Is that a hint of care coming from you?”

“Hardly. I couldn’t be bothered to giVe a shit about What happens to you. I’d just rather not haVe to deal With Wanshi’s endless riVer of tears if you died.”

“[] oWo? []"

“How charming. You’re not fooling anyone with that.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a half-sneer. “Look at you, trying to find some hidden meaning in What I say. It’s so desperate and sad.”

You bristled at the remark, finding yourself being drawn closer to that horrid man. “You are so insufferable, you know that?”

“And you are a damn thorn on my side, alWays appearing out of noWhere.”

”You manifested out of thin air! Who the hell even asked you to come over here?"

“I am here to retrieVe a pesky Wiggler, not to suffer from your presence — “

Wanshi looked between you two during your short argument, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “[] WoW [],” she breathed, turning to Lanque. “[] You really got it bad, huh … [] “

You quirked a brow in confusion while Lanque flushed in indignation. “Shut up, you little — “

“Hey!” You grabbed a fistful of his collar and yanked him to face you. “Don’t fucking talk to her that way, asshole.”

Lanque slapped your hand away with a snarl, and Wanshi gasped, clasping her hands together as she smiled widely. Not the reaction you expected from a young girl who just got told off by her superior. “[] i kneW i got it right from the Way you talked about her, lanque! []"

He flinched and nearly hissed, but you spoke first before he could deny anything. “You talk about me?” you asked with an air of tension, glancing at Lanque.

“[] oh all the time! []” Lanque glared down at her, and Wanshi had the decency to look a bit mollified. “[] Well, not really all the time. but i told him about hoW We met, and hoW you saved my life by being a scaredy-purrbeast liar — []”

“Typical for her,” Lanque cut in, earning a sharp look from you.

“[] — and he alWays Wants to knoW When We’re roleplaying cause i think he’s jealous and Wants in on the fun! []” Wanshi finished in one quick breath before Lanque could stop her, grinning sneakily as she placed her hands on her hips. “[] Which is Why i led us here, cause i kneW he Was gonna be around and i Want him to join in! []”

You huffed an amused laugh while Lanque hid his exasperated expression behind a hand. “Are you done?” He removed his hand and laid it atop her head. “I knoW it must be hard to tell apart fantasy from reality for you, but you need to stop coming up With these crazy ideas and go to class."

“Hold up,” you said, your smile growing. “I didn’t know you role-play, Lanque.” His eyes flashed dangerously, as though warning you to keep your mouth shut about it. You sure as shit won’t. “What kind of frivolous name have you graced yourself with? Sparkleflare? Lusciousmane?"

“[] hey those are pretty good … []“ Wanshi muttered, stroking her chin in thought.

Lanque scoffed. “I happen to haVe chosen the most noble name of all,” he haughtily said, placing a dainty hand over his chest. “Moonshine of shadoWcaste.”

“[] it’s soooo poetic! oWo []”

”Moonshine?” You tried to unsuccessfully stifle your giggles while Lanque looked nonplussed and Wanshi tilted her head. “I just want you to know,” you laughed, wiping away a tear from your eye. “That ‘moonshine’ is an extremely strong alcoholic drink on my planet. Which is very appropriate for you, Lanque! Excellent foresight, guys.”

“You think you’re just so cleVer, don’t you?”

“[] guys! []” Wanshi clapped her hands, and you reluctantly directed your attention to her instead of glaring daggers at that bastard. “[] let’s channel that pitch energy into one hell of a role-play session! right! noW! oWo []”

“There is nothing pitch happening here, just look at her — “

You have officially had enough of his voice. “Wanshi,” you said, grasping her shoulders. “I really do think you should go to school. Roleplaying can wait, okay? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Her excited demeanor deflated as she reluctantly nodded. “[] yeah you’re right. but come over sometime soon! We Were just getting to the good part. []”

You smiled. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep us on that cliffhanger.”

“[] mhmm! uWu []” Wanshi bounced on the soles of her feet and pulled you into a tight hug. “[] i’ll see you later, thanks for visiting me! []”

“I’m happy I got to see you,” you murmured happily into her locks.

Wanshi looked up at you with one last smile before scampering away, running into Lanque for a quick hug, yelping when he ruffled her hair, and dodging his next attack as she dislodged from him and disappeared behind the building’s corner.

You pondered on your next course of action as Lanque watched Wanshi leave, using his momentary lapse in attention to think about slipping away and avoiding the awkwardness that would ensue from being alone with him.

When was the last time you had stopped by the nursery and played with the grubs? You texted Bronya quickly to ask for permission, and within seconds she had already fired off a reply.

— vV I’m pretty busy right now, but you can wait for me there while I finish up! There’s a few things you could do for me in the meantime. Vv

— 1. Calm down the fussy ones, they seem to be riled up today.

— 2. Feed the isolated indigoblood grub.

You whispered an excited yesss, yet your victory was cut short as soon as you stashed your palmhusk away and became aware of how quiet it was, and you were pretty sure Lanque was watching you by now. Probably waiting for you to make the first move and confront him.

You would not give him the satisfaction.

Without a single backwards glance, you set off in the direction most familiar to you, hoping it led you to the main jadeblood hive. And because misery loves company, Lanque trailed behind you with large strides, as though he were trying to catch up to you.

He’s not going to let me win this, you bitterly thought and sighed. You stopped and turned to him, chin up and back ramrod straight in an effort to look more confident than you appeared.

He prowled up to you with no small hint of annoyance written all over his face.

“Where do you think you’re going, human? The exit is that Way,” Lanque said, pointing over his shoulder.

You cast him a withering look and folded your arms. “I want to visit the nursery.”

“And you think I Would take it upon myself to Waste my time to bring you there?”

“Are you not the one trailing after me? I can get there myself, and Bronya said she’ll meet me there after she’s done with work.”

“Ugh. Of course that oVerbearing bitch Will come sniffing around,” he groused, and you prickled at his rude tone. But before you could defend your friend, he walked past you, motioning you to follow him. “Lucky for eVeryone else, I’m not irresponsible enough to let you run around the caVerns unsuperVised.” Sensing you were still rooted to the spot, Lanque turned around with a dramatic twirl of his jacket and eyed you distastefully. “Are you coming or not?”

Un-fucking-believable, you thought to yourself. The leaps and bounds this man goes through to invite himself.

You couldn’t fault his logic, though. It was a known fact that you had a habit of wreaking havoc on anything within a mile radius of your presence. Quite frankly, you were shocked that Bronya seemed to trust you enough to let you watch the grubs before she came to see you. But with the amount of times you’ve visited the nursery and helped her take care of the little ones, perhaps she finally started to put some faith in you.

And then you remembered Lanque’s warning about the imperial drones. Wanshi had expertly navigated you away from their sensors during your roleplaying. You highly doubted you would get lucky enough on your own.

With a newfound resolve to stay alive, you joined him at his side. “Let’s go then, Moonshine,” you haughtily said, embarking on your journey without sparing him a glance.

You smirked when you heard him growl behind you.

[torisfeather]

Also on AO3

Lovino smiled as he stopped talking for a few moments, bringing to his lips the delicious Sicilian wine he had ordered. The young girl in front of him was admiring him with devotion, holding onto his every word. He kept speaking with the charming tone he kept for beauties such as her. She was beautiful indeed: short brown locks like dark chocolate slivers, held back in a messy bun, large green eyes with thick, perfect eyelashes, tan skin like she just came back from summer vacation, full, playful lips adorned with lip-gloss, an incredibly sexy Latin accent… Her face seemed familiar and she might be slightly older than him, but that was far from bothering him.

The light was slowly softening, the music was growing sweeter, languorous. He set his glass down and let his hand land delicately over the one his guest had innocently left near him. They weren’t talking anymore, their eyes locked on each other. Lovino could feel his throat drying. As much as he liked to brag about his charm (this delightful creature was enough proof), it was the first time he would kiss a girl.

She went ahead first. She bent over the table, intertwining their fingers, and bringing their two faces closer. Lovino couldn’t move. Slowly, she applied her tempting lips to the young boy’s, silently asking to enter his mouth. He granted her access and their tongues found each other in a possessive ballet. It was simply magical. The best experience he ever lived…

He heard someone talking to him. Far. Far away from the marvelous apparition offering herself to him. Maybe a waiter asking them not to do such things in the restaurant. He did not care, for now he only cared about those lips to which the gloss gave a taste akin to… tomato? This girl was definitely perfect.

Unfortunately, the person asking for attention was insisting. Couldn’t they see he was busy doing something more important than paying the bill, really? The voice kept pushing, more distinct, more familiar. Lovino knew that voice. But he wasn’t going to listen, no sir! He wanted that moment to go on, and on…

Meeting the ground was a surprise. Lovino opened his eyes. No more chic restaurant, no more pretty girl, he was in his room and his brother was stuttering apologies, his blanket in his hands. And he had a bump on top of that. “Damn it, Feliciano! Would it kill you to have waited two more seconds?”

“Veeee… But, fratello…”

“I don’t give a shit, okay? On week-ends, I’M SLEEPING! So give me a fucking break!” He went back to bed and stubbornly closed his eyes, ready to keep the act. Then he opened them again and looked at his brother. “AND GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BLANKET, DAMN IT!”

“B-b-but… Fratello… vee…” Feliciano didn’t know what to do anymore. Lovino took the blanket from him and rolled himself in it until he looked like a giant burrito, then dropped himself on the mattress and snored exaggeratedly to let him know he was sleeping. Feliciano fidgeted with his hands for a few moments, then leaned towards his brother. “Lovino… You see, the cafeteria is closing in a half-hour and we won’t get a breakfast if we miss it…” A grumble raised from him, which meant the argument was getting to him. Feliciano had a playful smile and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “They say on weekends, they have sfogliatella…”

The Italian went completely silent and Feliciano’s smile grew. He won. “Ok, I’ll come…” Lovino grumbled in his pillow.

“Veee!” Feliciano chirped before running to his closet to get his brother some clothes. Because of course he could get up before his brother, especially when food was involved. So he was dressed already. However, when he turned back to the bed, Lovino was still tightly wrapped up in his quilt, silent. “Well? Aren’t you getting up?”

“Yes, yes… I am, idiot…” A moment went by as Lovino struggled inside his blanket cocoon. They he stopped again. “Help me, dumb ass. I’m stuck…”

Of course, there were no sfogliatellas at the cafeteria. It was just the best way to get Lovino up when he was in a bad mood. Brother tactic, made in Feliciano. Thankfully, there were warm croissants and tomato juice. So Lovino wasn’t in too much of a huff, despite the absence of his favorite pastry.

Now cam the hard part: convince Lovino to come and visit all the clubs with Feliciano for club day.

“I’m sure there is an art club!”

“I’m not coming.”

“There is also a sport club, I saw them train.”

“I’m not coming.”

“Lud’ told me his brother was in a music club. Wouldn’t it be great if you could sing? I know you can do pretty well when you’re trying!”

“… I’m definitely not coming.”

“But… Fratello…” Feliciano had a disappointed frown. He had been looking forward to spending this day with his brother he loved despite his bad moods, his language, his manners and his hypocrisy… “Ve… I really don’t wanna go visit alone…”

“That’s your problem, you little shit.”

“I’d ask Ludwig but he said he was the journalism club’s captain…”

“…”

“So he’s gonna be in the History room all morning…”

“…”

“Well, I guess I could stay with him for the moment! And then we’ll go visit everything else in the afternoon, ve!”

“…”

“So I’ll be with Ludwig all day! Isn’t that neat?”

“… Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“Really?!”

Lovino nodded, looking like a man who’d just sentenced himself to death as Feliciano started dancing with joy around him. Well, it was still better than leaving his brother alone and vulnerable with the potato bastard.

“Oh… So you’re interested in the delicate and refined art of gastronomy?” Francis winked at them and turned around for a second to start the oven’s pre-heat timer. Romano took advantage of that time to stick two fingers in his mouth, showing his brother what he thought of the French boy. Feliciano refrained from laughing and tried to stay serious when Francis turned to them again with a large smile, ready to explain how delicate and refined his club was.

“Francis! Where the fuck is my loukoum pan?!” Sadiq yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

“In your ass, dick head!” Romano couldn’t help himself from saying before the French boy could even open his mouth. He was bored as hell after all, so might as well have a bit of fun!

Francis pinched his nose bridge with a sigh of despair as the Turk boy looked up from the stove to see who had the nerve to talk back to him like this. “Third cupboard, Sadiq!” he called to calm his friend down.

“Ve, ve, Francis?”

“Yes?”

“Can I join your club?”

A large smile split the French boy’s face in half. “But of course! The cuisine deserves to be shared!”

“Ve!”

“However, you must know we demand quality skills.”

“Ve!”

“If you wish to join, you will have to pass several quite strict tests to prove to us your gustative sensitivity and your culinary talents.”

“… Ve?”

“Oh, and please keep in mind that if you believe yourself better than me in cooking, I would be glad to have a friendly fencing challenge with you, what do you say?”

“V-ve?!”

A few minutes later, Francis went back to making his apple-pear-cinnamon pie.

“So, any candidates, aru?” Yao asked from the corner furthest from the stove, kneading his future almond biscuits

“They changed their mind,” Francis answered calmly.

“Fehu.”

“Nope. That was Ansuz.”

“Shit.”

“Could you knock it off? I’m trying to make a decent page in the grimoire and you guys are not helping!”

“Sorry, Dylan.”

“Boys, warn me when there is no more thyme! What do I use for my amulet, now?”

“Just take the verbena, Fiona. You could use it…”

“Are you saying I have emotional problems?”

“Uh… Yeah.”

“Well, fuck you!”

“Guys, for a ritual against fatigue, do I use cinnamon or rose incense?”

“Neither, Arthur. Use violet, read the grimoire again.”

“When the ink is dry!”

“I’m not an idiot, thank you very much!”

“And read the memory ritual again too!”

“And if you find one that helps get that stick out your ass, do it immediately, I’ll even help!”

“Thank you a lot, Oscar, Allister, Dylan. If I find one that gives you a brain, I’ll tell you…”

Feliciano and Lovino shared a glance. And then tip-toed back out of the Litterature room, promising to themselves they would not come back here after classes are over.

“Ah, hi boys!”

Mrs. Jones was there, paint brush in her hand, in front of her canvas. She stood up to greet the twins and they noticed her jeans covered in paint stains. The art room was quite empty compared to other clubs. Thankfully, the few students there were probably geniuses for the numerous works exposed on the walls and shelves were all beautiful.

“Are you here to join the art club?”

“I am!” Feliciano immediately chirped. “Romano, though…”

“Leave me out of this, dumbass…”

As his brother filled up the inscription chart with his name, class and signature, Romano took a look at the works. There was pottery, charcoal sketching, canvases, wood and stone sculptures, photography, models made out of trash. Everything. He looked down and saw three students that looked way too young to be here. The first one was a little girl wearing purple and a beret from which fell two long white braids. The second one was a little redhead with a fake scar across his face, and the last one was a little girl wearing a flower in her brown hair. They were all ten at most.

“They are the town’s children,” Aiyanna explained when she noticed Lovino’s interest. “They come here to paint almost every Saturday. I wouldn’t bother them if I were you.”

Indeed, despite their young age, they seemed extremely focused on their respective canvases. Especially the white haired girl. Even if she was still just using a pencil, her drawing was already wonderful. And the two others were close behind. Lovino couldn’t say he had such talent.

“Fratello! Fratello! Let’s go!”

In the meantime, in the french room…

“Finally! I was wondering when you were going to join!”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

Tino smiled a little. He had had lunch with the “Nordics” all week but he didn’t know they were an actual club. At least, not until Berwald brought him here without asking like he always did… He really had to find some time to make things clear between them.

However, he really couldn’t see what kind of club they were. The French room didn’t have any real device, except for some empty closet nobody used. “Say, what kind of club is that?”

“Well we protect the school in the name of justice with incredible fu…”

“Forget it, he’s being stupid,” Lukas grumbled from his chair. He was reading, eyes as empty as usual, as his brother ate licorice sticks next to him.

“Actually, we don’t do much. It’s just a way of saying we’re a group. Sometimes we talk, or we play board games…”

“Oh, okay. So it’s kind of like a… friendship club?”

“Whoah, hey, that actually sound pretty good!” Mathias exclaimed. “A little lovey-dovey but it’s cool!”

Tino had a small shy smile.

“Well there you go! Oh, and incase you were wondering, yes, I am the king of this club!” said the boy with spikey hair, attracting looks of pity from the rest of the club. He went and grabbed Lukas’ shoulder with a large smile. “And this is my queen!”

Lukas calmly sat his book down, stood, looked at Mathias, kicked him in the legs, sending the Danish boy down, sat back down and went back to reading, all of this with a perfect self-control. Tino realized with a jump that he was already used to that kind of scene.

“So… If Mathias and Lukas are king and queen, what if Emil was the bishop, Berwald the rock and I would be the knight,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Berwald immediately sent him a terrifying look and Tino screamed, then apologized for saying something so… Whatever Berwald thought of it. But when he looked up, the Swedish boy was just surprised.

“Ya d’n’t need t’ ap’log’ze.” He reached out and possessively pulled the finish boy close. Tino couldn’t move. “I j’st thought ‘t was c’te.”

During the week, when he had gone to get a book, Feliciano had wondered why the philosophy room’s closet was full of sleeping bags. Now he knew.

“Feli! Lovi! Are you joining the siesta club?”

Antonio thought it was very funny to compare the brothers’ reactions. As Feliciano had just tilted his head with interest, Lovino had crossed his arms, grumbled and looked away.

“Ve, siesta? It’s a club where you can sleep?”

“Hum… yes, but not just that. See the guy over there, with brown hair?”

Yes, the guy fighting with the Turk they had seen at the gastronomy club a half-hour ago. Hard to miss him. Especially because he had just fallen asleep. In the middle of the fight. Fist up, ready to punch his rival. Rival that seemed on the verge of despair and just let the boy fall on one of the sleeping bag, waiting for him to wake up. Yes, they saw him.

“Well, that’s Heracles, the club captain, he can make people fall asleep and control their dreams. Well, make them come into his dreams and control that.”

“Oh, ok. What about the guys trying to kill him?”

“Oh, that’s Sadiq, his roommate. They fight whenever Heracles is awake.”

“Oh, okay…”

The boy didn’t seem very patient. And Feliciano didn’t really want to know why he was wearing a mask.

“So, as I was saying, we have collective dreams here, so we do pretty crazy stuff. Last time, we did sky-diving-canoe over Niagara Falls.”

“That sounds awesome!” Feliciano exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

“It is! There is just one tiny problema…” He turned to the greek boy Sadiq was trying to wake up by slapping him so they could start fighting again. “He’s got narcolepsy. So we have to remind him to get us to sleep before he does. Otherwise it’s pretty hard to get him to wake up…”

In the end, the Turk just let it go and left a small metal box on the greek boy’s body before powerwalking away, looking pretty pissed.

“So, do you want to join?”

“Ve!” Feliciano confirmed.

“Ludwig! Ciao! Ciao, ciao!”

The German boy talking with Kiku had barely enough time to turn around before an overexcited Italian fell into his arms. He was starting to get used to his over-affectionate shenanigans and didn’t complain when the little brunet snuggled up to him for his “good morning hug”. However…

“Oh? Ciao, Kiku!”

The Japanese boy almost had an attack when his adorable classmate threw himself at him and kissed him on both cheeks while holding him so tight he was pretty sure his lungs were going to spill out through his nose. “F-F-Fe-Feliciano-kun, p-p-p-p-please let me go.”

Feliciana stepped back and Kiku tried his best to calm down. Since he got into the school, he was trying his best not to panic when someone stood a little too close or was a little too affectionate, but the Italian boy’s surprise-hugs were just too much. It wasn’t that he did not enjoy his company, he was probably the classmate that had been the friendliest to him so far. They just didn’t think the same way. To Kiku, a hug or a kiss was an affection gesture between old friends or close family, shouldn’t be done in public and meant deep feelings. To Feliciano, it was like saying “hi”.

As soon as he had his fill of hugs, Feliciano starting telling them everything about his morning, especially detailing the way his brother had been accidentally put to sleep by Heracles when he had bet with Antonio that he could wake him up.

“So, Ludwig? How is it going? How many members does the journalism club have so far?

Ludwig hesitated for a few seconds. “Two.”

“Two? Two that joined you, right?”

“No, we’re just two.” Facing the Italian’s stunned face, he explained: “We were three last year, but they were on their last year. So yes, that leaves only me, and Kiku who just joined.”

The boy turned to his Japanese classmate who nodded. “V-Ve?! That’s horrible!”

“If we’re organized, we can do a decent job.”

“But you are all alone! Ve, it’s too sad… I’ll… I’ll join!”

Ludwig’s eyes grew huge. “You?”

“Yeah!”

“You are interested in journalism?”

Feliciano nodded vividly. “For example, Papà has tons of very cool magazines with tons of pretty models and he has some he doesn’t want me to read but that are probably amazing because he keeps them under his mattress so he won’t lose them…

“Not that kind of journalism…”

Feliciano tilted his head. “What kind, then?”

And Ludwig spent two hours explaining how the school’s journal worked as Feliciano listened more or less attentively until he passed out on a table…

As for Kiku, he left the history room, quite glad he found a serious activity he could tell his parents about next time he’d send them an e-mail. They would probably be proud to know their son was part of the journalism club. And he was happy with it too. It was the best arrangement.

The day was only just beginning but the young Japanese boy knew he probably wouldn’t join any other club. He had no particular talent for cooking, arts or music, had a feeble constitution that would not do any good in sports, and really didn’t see the point in joining the “nap club”. As for all the other clubs, they seemed more like discussion groups, which was of limited interest. Well, he could always give them a chance.

Actually, as he thought this, he walked by the geography room. The paper sheet taped on it said “student help club”. Well this seemed quite honorable. Hesitating slightly, he stopped. What could be the harm in trying? He pushed the door.

Alfred was standing on top of a table and seemed in the middle of a longue explanation about the club’s objectives as two or three students around him listened with more or less interested faces. “… And so, the goal is to show everyone how HEROIC our club is by doing our HERO duty all year round, which means helping students who… Oh, hi, Kiku-chan!”

Kiku sighed. He felt like some mischievous yokai was pushing him towards the most active student in the school all the time, just to f… mess with him. He gestured at Alfred to not pay him any mind and to keep talking.

“Oh, yeah, what was I saying? Right, helping students who have trouble with their lessons, or with other students. For example…” He pointed at Kiku and everybody looked in his direction. The young boy mentally slapped himself for not leaving as soon as he had walked in. “Making sure new students adapt smoothly, even when you have to help them personally! Every member of the club must act this way! That’s the duty of HEROS!”

And he started laughing for no apparent reason. Kiku decided he had seen enough and left the room. He would not join this club.

He walked around in the corridors for a while. Sometimes, he’d step into a room to listen someone brag about their club’s merit, but he would always leave unconvinced. Morning was almost over and he was sure there wasn’t anything more to see. Maybe he’d better go find a seat at the library and wait for the afternoon’s performances.

As he walked down the corridor, a detail suddenly caught his eye. A small book with a laminated cover, conspicuously sitting around a corner of wall. He approached, intrigued, and recognized the cover of the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi. His eyes widened and he quickly checked that nobody was watching. Thankfully for him, the corridor was currently empty.

He approached slowly, carefully, as if the combination of ink and paper might jump at him to bite his face off. Glancing around frequently, he bent forward and reached out for the manga… that flew a few feet away when he was about to touch it. Startled, Kiku fell forward and had to catch himself with his hands. He looked up to the spot the manga had slipped to, mocking him. He frowned. The yokai playing with his nerves was at it again?

He stood up and, again, walked carefully to the manga that fled as soon as he tried to take it. Growing more and more surprised, he tried going faster to catch it but the small book just slipped faster out of reach. Defied, the Japanese boy ran after the manga, down the staircase and into the playground, until he saw it disappear into the PCD room.

Kiku hesitated to follow it inside. He could remember all too well the joke Luna-sensei had put up for them at the beginning of the week. He wasn’t one of those who had really panicked but the experience still had its effect. If it was another joke trying to jumpstart some sort of power he didn’t know about, he’d rather walk away now and lock himself in his room. But, on the other side, such a plan just to bring him here was intriguing. And it would be cowardly not to take the challenge.

After a few more moments of deliberation, he stepped into the room, curiosity stronger than prudence.

The room was empty. No manga around. Nobody either, nothing. Kiku took a few more steps, looked left and right. No, nothing at all. Well, there might be someone hiding in the stockroom, but that didn’t seem as important all of a sudden. He chose to overlook the commotion he could here in the projection room and was about to walk away.

When his hands suddenly slapped themselves over his eyes. All by themselves. He tried to gain back control but it was impossible. As if some puppet-master had attached strings to his fingers and kept them firmly over his eyes to blind him. He heard the projection room’s door fly open and a dozen people run towards him. They bonded his legs, as his hands still wouldn’t budge, and took him away. He did not panic, waiting to know more about the situation in order to act consequently.

He was sat on a chair and strapped down. His arms were bound behind his back and he could see where he was. Apparently, he was brought into the projection room. His chair was placed before the projection screen. The shades were down, so it was quite dark. A silhouette was standing before him. It’s wasn’t easy to see it clearly in the dark but he could make out a skirt and long hair, which led him to think it was probably a girl. Or Feliks with a wig, but Kiku wasn’t sure why Feliks would need to wear a wig. Whoever that was, her face was hidden behind a white, roughly cut paper mask attached to her head with a piece of string. The Japanese boy could also feel the less than silent presence of several other people behind him.

The young girl loomed over him. If she was trying to intimidate him, she wasn’t trying hard enough, he wouldn’t be scared with this.

“Kiku Honda, or “Kiku-chan”,” she recited with a strange accent, something that sounded eastern-European. Kiku tried not to cringe. The nickname sounded strangely more insulting in another mouth than Alfred’s. “First year student at Hetako Academy, aged fourteen…”

“Fifteen,” Kiku mechanically corrected.

“… Fifteen, Japanese and gifted with “origami life”.” She stopped, as if trying to raise the suspense. “You were seen on Saturday September 7th, at 1021, walking around the yaoi section of Mrs. Suzuki’s store. According to our informants, you have reacted in an unusual fashion to the presence of boys-love posters on the walls.”

She stopped and stepped back with a dramatic look to turn the projector on. The image that appeared on the screen was cut in half. The first half showed a perfectly unknown boy standing in front of a shonen-ai poster. Laos, according to the very crappy quality, the picture was probably taken a long time ago. The second half, however, was a lot more recent as it showed Kiku standing in front of the same poster. The other difference was the two boys’ expression. While the lambda boy was very distinctly cringing, Kiku had a very attentive face, although quite neutral.

The young girl took a laser pointer and try to show something on the screen with the small red point. She was probably trying to look scientific and confident.

“Contrary to a male individual of your age, you haven’t manifested any disgust. Instead, you have briefly shown a kind of fascination for this sort of art. Plus, we know from relatable sources that boys avoid the yaoi section and walk by quickly if necessary. You, however, haven’t manifested any hurry and went there freely.”

She turned the projector off before the neutral gaze of Kiku who was honestly wondering if she had nothing better to do than watch people’s reaction in the yaoi isle.

“Lastly, you have manifested a positive reaction to our test consisting of luring you here with this,” she said, showing him the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi which cover was just tied to an invisible wire. A few claps started behind him but he didn’t even look away. “Now, I’ll offer you two options,” she finished when everything was silent again. She walked to him ominously, managing to make him uneasy. “First option: freely join the shipping club. Second option: be forced to join. Please keep in mind before making your choice that I have the gift of dominance and so you cannot say no to me.”

Kiku thought for a moment, impassively scrutinizing the olive green eyes he could almost make out under the paper mask. But at the back of his mind, he was laughing. This was just a fangirl club offering him to join. Problem was, even if he wasn’t really against it, he could not let it be known that he was into this. It was against his honor. But, well, if he didn’t have a choice, he could just say he was forced to help out. “I accept.”

“You won’t take that back?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

The young girl stopped and giggled silently. She tore her mask off, revealing a joyful face. “No, you don’t!” She gestured to the other to turn the light on and untie him. Kiku realized almost every girl in the school was there, including Mei and Faustina, watching him mockingly. There were about a dozen and a half. “Welcome to the club, Kiku-chan!” said Elizaveta, the one that had presented the little investigation, after she introduced herself. “Also, sorry about the whole act, I always wanted to do that!”

“I won’t hold it against you, Elizaveta senpai,” Kiku let slip. As soon as he said that, the shipping club captain suddenly blushed and hid behind her hands, squealing. Kiku gave her an incredulous look. “Elizaveta senpai? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, Kiku-chan. I just…” She managed to pull herself together and breathed in deeply. “I always wanted to be called senpai by such a cute uke… Ahem, I mean a boy.”

Kiku decided to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. “May I add a clause to my admission?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“That nobody will call me Kiku-chan again, please…”

In the afternoon, three different performances were scheduled.

The sport club’s football game was unbearably long. Actually, the game itself was rather short, but they needed three more players to have a decent game and Elizaveta not only yelled at the public for someone to get down there with them, but also decided to be picky about it. She refused Feliciano and Tino, as she had them since their arrival on her “uke we should keep away from masculine activities” list, Heracles, who didn’t hold it against her as he fell asleep on the lawn until his Turkish roommate kicked him awake, Alfred, who might break the equipment and didn’t know the difference between American football and every single other country in the world’s football (AKA soccer), as well as Francis, because last time she had let him play he had gone on strike mid-game.

The rest of the club managed to negotiate the participation of Fausto, Antonio’s brother, of Tim, who was Bella’s, and of Young Soo who had pointed out that “football originated in Korea, daze~” and the game could finally begin.

After they picked the teams.

Because that was another issue. As Gilbert wanted to be against Eliza, but also with Antonio, Tim wanted nothing to do with the Hispanic brothers, Elizaveta was trying to get everyone to obey her, Logan, the Australian kid, was arguing with Gilbert about who was the best and Young Soo was messing around with the ball, there was some madness material. In the end, everybody calmed down when Ludwig started yelling at them for fifteen minutes and picked the teams himself.

So, there was on one side Elizaveta, Logan, Tim and Young Soo, and on the other Gilbert, Ludwig, Antonio and Fausto. And nobody as guardian. But at least the public was happy to see some football after so many shenanigans so nobody complained about the teams sizes. The players put on their numbered vests, the chronometer was started and the game began.

The score was almost a tie. They had excellent players in the club and nobody could surpass the others when it came to competitiveness. Or distraction techniques. For example Gilbert who would yell “I’M SO AWESOOOOOME” whenever he had the ball, and Young Soo who would grab every adverse boobs he could get his hands on and danced “gagman style” at every goal his team made. In the end, the germano-hispanic team won by chance when Gilbert managed kick the ball away from the goals and in the adversary one at the last second.

The whole school clapped when the teams shook hands. However, the albino did feel his fingers crack when Elizaveta grasped them. The Hungarian girl was miles away from enjoying defeat.

The swimming club’s relay race was a lot shorter. Two teams of three students were fighting to see who would do six lengths first. And the best swimmers were obviously Elizaveta and Logan who didn’t just give everything they got during the football game, but also truly made the competition spectacular.

Everything was done under the cheers of Rachelle, the team captain, a pretty little brunet with pigtails and tan skin, who categorically refused to put a foot in the water despite her role. And nobody knew why, except for the club members who had promised to keep it that way. That didn’t keep her from making heads turn in the room. Nobody was even asking how she became the club’s captain without ever swimming.

Tino, sitting in the second row between Berwald and Peter, leaned towards the younger boy to comment on the swimmers’ performance. Worried about the lack of response, he turned to him and smiled fondly at how Peter didn’t watch the race as much as he watched pretty Rachelle…

Lovino didn’t want to go to the auditorium to see the music club’s performance. Why? Because he was sick of everything. Really…

He was put to sleep by the narcoleptic guy. Okay.

His twin managed to go on without him and probably go find that fucking potato bastard even though he had come along for the sole purpose of him not meeting him. Not okay.

Plus, because of this dumb forced nap, he had woken up alone in the philosophy room, in the afternoon, with a note from Antonio saying “We’re at the game. Come and see us when you wake up!”, and signed with a smiling tomato.

So he was starving, alone, and didn’t want to go watch a game, or the music club’s show at the auditorium because looking at the time, the game had probably been over for a while…

Frowning, he got up and decided to go to the kitchen, to see if he could sneak out something to eat before dinner. He just hoped the cooking club had fucked off, especially the blond guy. That dude made him sick. If Lovino ever managed to be alone in a room with him, he would probably escape through the floor.

Walking down the hallway, he noticed the music room’s lights were on while everyone was supposed to be at the concert. Curiously, he peeked through the half-open door. The room as empty, some idiot probably forgot to turn the lights off. But he didn’t leave.

He looked left and right in the corridor to make sure nobody was around, then came in, feeling safer. The music room was quite large, with many storing units for the instruments. A large centimeters-tall platform was set before a dozen rostrum chairs. In a corner, a laptop was on and connected to two speakers, as well as several microphones, ready to be used.

Lovino thought in a hurry. Usually, the music room was always occupied by the students, or the music club. Unless there was a concert, like today. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t present itself very often.

He again made sure that nobody, NOBODY, was in the corridor at the moment, and carefully closed the door. Then, he silent sat at the computer and looked around for a bit. There were many songs in instrumental versions so that the musicians didn’t have to learn a new song every time someone felt like singing. There were all sorts of it, even from musicals or cartoons. Lovino waited for a second, hearing around for someone who walk in the corridor at that moment. Then he started a song he knew and ran to stand at the mics.

“Uno, due, tre…” he muttered. A south-american sounding melody flooded the room, slightly too loud for his taste but he didn’t want to go and find out how to lower the volume. He started to sing, feeling more confident as the lyrics ran smoothly from his mouth.

“Non sono proprio adatto io

Adiventar un nuovo dio

Non assomiglio neanche a un cherubin...”

A smile formed on his face. Lovino loved to sing. And he wasn’t bad at it. At least, he wanted to believe that. But he wasn’t stupid to the point where he couldn’t realize Feliciano, that adorable little angel everybody loved despite his happy ass face, was once again a lot better than him in that regard.

“Ora loro sono qui

In ginocchio, e per chi?

Non puo certo andar meglio di cosi...”

You just had to hear him sing a solo during miss Jones’ class. He had a light, effeminate voice that fit almost every song, soft and happy, or melancholic and sad. He was ashamed when he had to sing after him.

“Più di cosi più di cosi più di cosi...

OH MIO DIO!

E' duro fare il dio

Osannato dal corteo

E questa è la loro verità.”

He did not care anyway. Singing was for girls. Even if he liked it, he didn’t want people to hear it, it would be humiliating. No, if he had to sing, it was to himself.

“Una vera devozione

E non finisce qua

E' piuttosto imbarazzante

Questa mia notorietà

Non posso rifutare

Devo proprio accettare

Se mi dicono sei un dio

Io lo saro!”

He sung the rest of the song, trying not to think about his brother. He rarely let himself enjoy things and it was already embarrassing enough without a public, he wasn’t going to imagine himself in competition against the little marshmallow traitor he called his twin. When the music ended in a deafening roar of trumpets and drums, he went and set the laptop just the way he found it, bumping the microphones on the way. Nobody should know what he had d…

Elizaveta slightly waved at him from the room’s door. Behind her, Roderich was absent-mindedly cleaning his glasses. Lovino blushed violently, so mortified he couldn’t even try to think of an excuse. He just stood there, perfectly still, cheeks redder by the second. One might have wondered if he was still breathing. Worried, Elizaveta wanted to comfort him. “Don’t worry, you have a beautiful singing voice, you know that?”

Lovino immediately went from scarlet to burgundy and ran away, bumping into the two spies who had just come pick up a violin bow for the concert.

Elizaveta had a small smile and looked down at her phone. Roderich went to get his precious little bow and glanced at the screen his girlfriend was watching. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, reprovingly.

“I could need it, someday,” she quickly answered, putting the small device away.

The Austrian boy knew there was no talking her out of that kind of project. So he just took her hand and led her towards the auditorium.

[geekade]

Geekade Top Ten: Stock Your Spice Rack

You’ve graduated from ramen and mac n’cheese and Sriracha isn’t doing it for you anymore. But when you venture into the spice aisle, row after row of little glass bottles stare you down, each more gnomic than the last and each price tag suspiciously steep for an ounce of dried leaves or colorful powder, and you always slink out of there with nothing more than another set of those disposable McCormick’s salt and pepper shakers.

You deserve better. This list includes ten essential seasonings to keep your salt and pepper shakers company without breaking the bank. Most of them mix and match well, and appear (or can be substituted for more esoteric ingredients) in basic recipes. (You can substitute dried herbs for fresh, but dried herbs have a more concentrated flavor than fresh, so use less.) When you want to cook these seasonings will enrich your marinades and dry rubs; when you don’t they will punch up your frozen pizzas and jar sauces.

Foodies will tell you that herbs come from the leaf or stem of an aromatic plant, and spices come from their roots, bark, fruit, and seeds. This list includes both. Foodies will also tell you that you should buy spices whole and grind them just before using them. They’re not wrong, but unless your idea of a relaxing after a long day of work includes laboring over a spice mill, go ahead and buy pre-ground. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.

Without further ado, here are the top ten seasonings to start your spice rack:

#10. Celery salt – Celery salt is just what it says on the tin, a mixture of ground celery seed and salt. You know that bright, sharp, green snap of aroma fresh celery gives off when you bite or cut into it? Celery salt is that snap, dried and concentrated into the secret weapon for all your dry rubs, marinades, and broths. Used sparingly – you never want your food to taste of celery salt – it neutralizes gaminess in chicken, pork, and occasionally beef, perhaps most famously in the classic Chicago hot dog. If a recipe calls for fresh celery and you don’t have any on hand, a tiny bit of celery salt can cover for you. And if you like Bloody Marys – I understand such people exist – celery salt smooths out the acid and umami collisions between (*shudder*) tomato juice and Worcestershire sauce.

#9. Garlic powder – After a long day, one of the biggest obstacles between me and a home-cooked meal is the prospect of peeling and mincing garlic. (Yes, the blade-smash trick is excellent, but it doesn’t make mincing any less of a PITA.) I may love garlic, but I love being a lazy bastard more. Enter garlic powder: all the flavor of garlic and none of the fuss. This shelf-stable shortcut can help along marinades, sauces, and breading mixes, especially on those nights when you Really Just Can’t, and/or you belatedly realize that was the one thing you forgot to grab at the grocery store. I have swapped it into marinades that called for actual fresh garlic cloves and mixed it (along with Italian seasoning) into breadcrumbs for everything from chicken/eggplant parmigianas to breaded zucchini to stuffed mushrooms. It’s not quite as good as the real thing, but it’s still pretty damn good.

#8. Cumin – Cumin seeds come from a flowering plant related to parsley. They provide the pungent signature notes of chili and shakshouka and add an unmistakable and unmissable richness to spice blends. On those winter days when you are too cold and miserable to bother with anything, potato wedges or cauliflower pieces tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and cumin and roasted in the oven will warm the cockles of your grim and frozen heart.

#7. Coriander – Coriander seeds (technically a dried fruit, but who wants to buy “dried coriander fruit?”) are an enduring mystery to me, because I do not understand how it is possible for my arch nemesis, cilantro (aka coriander), to produce something so delicious and essential. Coriander is both earthy and fresh, with an almost lemony aroma that brings out the best in fish and chicken. It pairs well with cumin, with which it often appears in salsas, curries, and dry rubs. Alongside orange peels, coriander also traditionally flavors Belgian Witbiers, so you home brewers have an extra reason to keep some on hand.

#6. Chili – Every spice rack should have at least one kind of chili pepper, even if you don’t like spicy food. Chilis, bell peppers’ spicier cousins, are sweet, bright, occasionally smoky and always delicious. They enliven everything from goulash to roast chicken to toasted nuts. Mixed with salt, they make a savory rim for tequila- or mezcal-based cocktails. If you only have one chili powder, cayenne has a bright heat that’s welcome almost anywhere. The jack-of-all-trades chili, cayenne powder can heat up a stew, a plate of eggs, a batch of cornbread, or even a mug of hot chocolate. But if heat really isn’t your thing, grab a bottle of smoked paprika instead. Its smoky, mellow notes add a nice touch of chili flavor with almost no heat. I wouldn’t add it to cocktails or hot cocoa, but it’s still great in marinades, dry rubs, and stews. In a pinch, you can mix either cayenne or paprika (I do both, but I’m a capsaicin fiend) with cumin, coriander, garlic powder, and a little oregano or Italian seasoning for a quick chili powder.

#5. Crushed red pepper – You might be thinking that I already told you to get a chili pepper, but crushed red pepper flakes’ texture set them apart from their ground counterpart. If I told you, for example, to sprinkle cayenne or paprika on your pizza instead of crushed red pepper flakes, you would be well within your rights to get me blacklisted from every reputable pizza parlor on the Eastern seaboard. The fact that they’re more whole than ground chilis but small enough to require no extra work from you means you can sprinkle them directly on a dish (like pasta or frozen pizzas, which often need the help) or infuse them in another solution, like a salad dressing or a dipping sauce. If you’re not persuaded enough to buy a bottle, just stow those little pepper packets from the pizza place. One day you’ll need a little heat, and your palate will thank you.

#4. Bay leaves – The dried leaves of the laurel tree, bay leaves add a savory, grassy, faintly woody aroma to broths, soups, and stews. This is one herb to buy and use whole. A leaf or two will do for a whole pot of chili or chicken soup or braised pork shoulder or tomato sauce, and almost anything improved by braising or long simmering will benefit from the addition of a bay leaf. It is best to pick them out when you’re done cooking, though; they don’t soften, and much like tea leaves, they’re not something you actually want to eat.

#3. Italian seasoning – Despite the name, Italian seasoning has applications way beyond Italian cooking. A collection of savory herbs that go well with broths, meats, sauces, and stews – it usually includes oregano, thyme, basil, rosemary, and marjoram – Italian seasoning pre-mixes spices that frequently get used together anyway. You can often get away with using it any time a recipe calls for just one of the herbs it includes. Mixed with coriander, celery salt, and black pepper, it makes a decent chicken rub. With olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and Dijon mustard it rounds out a sweet and savory steak marinade. A few shakes can help along a jar of red sauce that leaves something to be desired or turn plain olive oil into a dipping sauce for bread or breadsticks. Italian seasoning is the spice rack equivalent of a pocket multitool: It gives you versatility in exchange for precision and specialization. In a perfect world you would buy your oregano, thyme, basil, and marjoram fresh and dry them from the rafters of your picturesque kitchen, snipping off bits as needed. In the real world you crack open a bottle of Italian seasoning and call it a day.

#2. Kosher salt – This is miles apart from the iodized salt sitting in your salt shaker. Iodized salt contains iodine, which can lend the salt – and any food you season with it – a vaguely metallic flavor. The metallic edge is negligible unless salt will play a defining role in a flavor profile, as it does in brines or when sprinkled directly on a good cut of meat or fish. Kosher salt comes in bigger grains and packs more salt punch by volume* than iodized salt, and the lack of iodine means a clean, unadulterated flavor. Less complex but also less expensive, it’s also a cheap but viable alternative to sea salt, which can get real pricey real fast. Once you try Kosher salt on a steak instead of iodized, you will wonder where it has been your whole life and you will never go back. *The two major brands, Diamond and Morton, produce different-shaped salt crystals. Morton’s are flatter, so a teaspoon of Morton Kosher salt is saltier, by volume, than a teaspoon of Diamond. Most recipes base their measurements on Diamond’s crystal size; if you’re using Morton, start with half the specified volume and adjust to taste.

#1. Cinnamon – Cinnamon is the sweet, fragrant, inner bark of a tree from the same family as the bay laurel. Although best known for spicing baked goods like apple and pumpkin pies, cinnamon is the flavor you never knew you always needed in a surprising variety of beverages and savory dishes. You can sprinkle it over grounds before brewing or directly into your cup for more flavorful coffee, or add it to hot cocoa alongside cayenne. It is essential for mulling cider or wine and pairs well with whiskey and brandy cocktails, either directly or simmered into a simple syrup. And a tiny dash added to beef or pork, as a dry rub or in a stew, produces a result as irresistible as it is inexplicable.

The secret to stocking your spice rack affordably is to avoid that supermarket aisle as much as possible (except for the Kosher salt, which has less pricing variance). The absolute cheapest way to maintain your spice rack is to purchase from a bulk supplier. This is easier than it sounds – even Target carries bags of bulk herbs and spices, mostly for $1-2 a pop. The second cheapest way to stock your spice rack is to start at Trader Joe’s and World Market, both of which price their seasonings very reasonably and package them in durable, reusable glass bottles. Buy the glass bottles once and you can refill them from bulk purchases pretty much forever.

Now go forth, and never eat bland food again.