#With my sword and head held high

[demon----dean]

no you don’t understand, i need this song pumped into me like an iv

[rosemaryhoney27]

Sweet war

The Justice League was no stranger to summoning powerful entities, but as the glowing green portal ripped through the air in the Watchtower, there was an unspoken tension among them. They had expected a dark and ominous figure. Instead, a teenager with stark white hair, glowing green eyes, and regal black-and-green robes with a shimmering, ethereal crown atop his head floated before them.

Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, had arrived.

The moment he set foot—or rather, floated—on the Watchtower’s floor, he held out a gloved hand, his expression neutral but expectant.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said. “I assume you called me for something important. Where’s my offering?”

John Constantine, ever the opportunist, smirked and stepped forward. With an exaggerated flourish, he reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette before dramatically crushing it between his fingers. Then, placing a hand over his chest, he said, “How ‘bout my soul, mate?”

Danny turned to him, eyes narrowing slightly before his lips curled in distaste. “Ew. No one wants your broken, old soul, Constantine.”

The League collectively inhaled sharply. Superman coughed to cover a chuckle. Batman’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Zatanna stifled a snicker behind her gloved hand. Constantine, looking slightly offended, scoffed and took a drag of a new cigarette. “Well, can’t blame a bloke for tryin’.”

Wonder Woman, arms crossed, took a step forward. “Then tell us, Ghost King, what is it that you desire?”

Danny crossed his arms, looking at them all appraisingly. Then, with a small smirk, he said, “Honestly? I just want some good homemade sweets. Best you can find.”

Silence stretched between them as the request sank in. Then—

“I know just the thing,” Superman said immediately, a fond smile spreading across his face as he thought of Ma Kent’s famous homemade pies.

Batman hummed. “Alfred’s cookies.” His tone was decisive, as if it were an undeniable fact that they were superior.

Superman’s gaze sharpened. “You think your butler’s cookies can top my mom’s pies?”

Batman turned his head just enough to meet Superman’s challenge. “Yes.”

Danny, watching this unfold, raised a brow. “Wait—”

Flash grinned and clapped his hands together. “Oh-ho! This just got interesting.”

Wonder Woman smirked. “A contest of sweets, then?”

And just like that, the battle lines were drawn.

Superman wasted no time contacting his mother, explaining the situation with excitement in his voice. Meanwhile, Batman sent an encrypted message to Alfred, who replied with a simple: Understood. Commencing preparations.

Danny, who had just wanted some cookies or pie, now found himself at the center of an intergalactic baking war.

“Uh,” he started, watching as Superman and Batman prepared to bring their respective champions into the fray. “…This isn’t what I expected, but I’m not complaining.”

Constantine clapped him on the back. “Buckle up, kid. You just started the Bake-Off of the Century.”

And so, the great Bake War between Ma Kent and Alfred Pennyworth commenced, all for the favor of one very amused Ghost King.

Two days later, the Watchtower kitchen was in utter chaos.

Flash had somehow been appointed the official taste tester and was already on his fifth plate, buzzing with sugar-induced energy. Green Lantern had made a bet on Alfred and was wearing an apron that said Kiss the Cook, despite not actually doing any cooking.

Martian Manhunter was curiously sniffing a pecan pie, while Wonder Woman was critiquing Superman’s rolling technique. "Kal, you are treating that dough as if you were forging a sword. Relax. Let it breathe."

Batman, meanwhile, had an array of meticulously measured ingredients lined up in front of him. Alfred had given him explicit instructions, and Batman followed them with the precision of a man planning a high-stakes infiltration.

Danny was sprawled across a floating chair conjured from his own ectoplasmic energy, munching on a cookie from an early batch. “You guys do realize I could just declare both the winners, right?”

Superman shot him a look. “That’s not how this works.”

Batman nodded gravely. “There must be a victor.”

Danny snickered. "You guys are way too into this."

Constantine lit a cigarette and leaned against the counter, watching the madness unfold. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Alfred and Ma Kent, meanwhile, were exchanging polite but intense glances, silently acknowledging each other as true culinary warriors.

The Ghost King had spoken. The battle for baked good supremacy would rage on.

[scorpiosbite]

the time actress!reader mentioned obx in her interview

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── while the obx cast were together in drew’s hotel room madelyn in her ever obsession of game of thrones brought up that you had mentioned how much you love obx in an interview. causing them to watch the interview together.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 and 3 weeks after the first time they watched the show together. at this point of my timeline the cast have watched the entire first season of game of thrones.

drew was scrolling through his phone, you had followed him back on instagram a week ago and he was on the moon. though he hadn’t messaged you yet. unsure on what to say to you. drew prided himself on being a confident man yet, your ability to make him nervous through a screen was unprecedented.

while stalking your profile for the umpteenth time he found himself wondering about you yet again. your limited amount of posts made you even more intriguing to him. he wondered what kind of person you are. what things made you tick, whether you would stare up at him with those siren eyes, whether you moaned or whimpered during sex, whether your face scrunched up and your mouth hung open as your chest heaved like it did in your sex scene that hasn’t left his brain since the moment he watched it.

just as he fell into a spiral of thoughts about you madelyn spoke up from her seat across the room, drawing the attention of everyone else, and drew was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone in his room. “oh my fucking god! i forgot to tell you guys!” she was staring down at her phone. but drew was having trouble focusing on her, still consumed in his thoughts of you.

the others, however, had no problem driving their attention to her, so drew remained in his bubble staring at the most recent post on your profile, a vogue magazine cover from three months ago, of you, seated, legs spread on the iron throne with the sword dark sister held in your hands standing between your legs, the crown of aegon the conquerer tilted on your head, the lace thigh high socks with garters disappearing under the skirt of your tight mini dress and the bold red coating your lips enticing him further.

it wasn’t till he heard your name slip from madelyn’s lips, was his attention torn from the captivating sight on his screen. “wait, what you just say?” madelyn smirked “of course, only when i say y/n’s name, do you listen.” drew blushed lightly. but didn’t make the move to defend himself, after all they would be right, he had been distracted from the moment he saw you in all your glory stealing the screen.

“what i was saying that y/n mentioned obx in an interview, just pass me the remote, i’ll show you.” drew’s heart rate spiked, the thought of you having seen him in his element, doing his job, made him self conscious in a way that he wasn’t ready to admit. once madelyn had the video loaded on the screen, drew was once again struck by how effortlessly beautiful you are. dressed in simple black pants and an off-shoulder cream long sleeve top, brown boots disappearing under your pants and simple gold hoop earrings, your brunette hair loose and following in natural waves. drew looked at your empty neck and thought how good you would look if there was a necklace with his initial hanging there, branding you as his.

madelyn skipped through the video until the moment you were talking. the interviewer asked you and your cast-mate what shows you watch during your down time when filming, your voice rang through the silent room and drew was struck once again by how attractive your accent sounded, your british accent deep and sultry but more casual than the tone you use when playing visenya. “oh, well mimi and i love outer banks a lot, to the point where we quote it on set quite often. i think we’ve annoyed everyone.” you laughed and drew thought about how he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

your cast mate and best friend, mimi who plays arianne martell laughed and agreed and the interviewer who was surprised by your answer said that obx was one of her favourite shows too. your face immediately brightened as you watched her intently as she spoke about the show. what drew would give to have you look at him like that.

madelyn paused the video and drew knew that once everyone had left his room he was going to watch the entire video. “that’s so cool!” jd gasped. “i know right? that’s so crazy that she’s seen our show.” madison replied. but drew couldn’t bring himself to speak, he wondered what you thought of him after watching his performance. he wondered if you had the same all consuming thoughts he had about you, about him.

“i followed her when i first watched the show and she followed me back, but after seeing that clip a week ago i messaged her and we’ve been talking back and forth ever since, she’s so fucking cool, it’s insane. i think we’re friends now!” madelyn raved. “you’re friends with her?!.” drew was baffled, how was madelyn just bringing this up, she has known about his developing crush for weeks. “ah, now you want to chime in drew?” “yes, we’re friends and she’s gonna be in la when we get back so i told her she should come hang out with us, what you guys think?”

drew’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, he was gonna meet you. what the fuck.

thank you for all the love on the first part i’m so grateful. and for everyone who wants to be added to the tag list i’m figuring out how to do that so please be patient with me. also please send me asks about this au i would love to do like a drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts thing, but let me know what you thought of this part!

[radawaycunt]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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[zorosgirlfriend]

monster trio ~ !! they get caught in their private time aka masturbating to you

warnings: masturbation (duh), teasing, suggestive but no smut

masterlist and rules || opposite (they catch you masturbating to them)

Monkey D. Luffy

You were just innocently wandering the Sunny, looking for snacks… when you heard a soft, breathy moan.

“…y/n…”

You froze.

Peeking into the storage closet, you saw Luffy slouched against the wall, his face red, hands in his lap.

“LUFFY?!” you screamed.

He jolted like he’d been electrocuted.

“I-I WAS JUST—UH—TRAINING! YEAH! STRETCHING!”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Stretching with your voice cracking and my name coming out like that?!”

He quickly pulled his hat over his face.

“I missed you too much!! I couldn't help it!!”

You backed out, flustered. “L-LUFFY SERIOUSLY?!!”

He peeked out from under his hat, grinning.

“Did it sound cute, though?”

You weren't gonna lie, you were a bit flattered that he was thinking about YOU during that private moment.

You stood at the door, stunned

Your mouth open but no words coming out.

Luffy froze too.

You both just… stared at each other.

Then he tilted his head and gave a sheepish little grin.

“…I was almost close…” he muttered under his breath.

You swear you felt your soul ascend.

“W-What did you just say?!” you screamed while being completely red.

Luffy realized what he said.

He suddenly pointed at a completely empty wall. “LOOK! A BIRD!”

You get confused and look back.

“Luffy there’s no—"

The moment you turned around.

He bolted right past you, laughing like a madman.

You just stood there, combusting in place with your face all red.

Roronoa Zoro

You were just passing the training room when you heard a familiar voice groaning softly.

“…y/n…”

You blinked.

Opening the door a crack

Your eyes met Zoro’s flushed face

The moment he saw you? out of all people?

He quickly sat upright on the floor.

“WHAT are you doing.”

You said while being a bit flustered.

He stared at you, expression completely deadpan. “...Meditating.”

He said completely being unfazed. or is he?

“While saying my name like that?!”

You yelled out.

He turned away. “You wouldn't get it. It’s... sword focus.”

He said with a pink face.

“Oh really?”

You said with a teasing smirk.

“Yeah. Focused on the… uh... memory of you in that towel last week.”

Zoro teased back.

You covered your face. “ZORO—”

You yelled out while you felt like your face was burning.

“Bet you like it, though.”

He smirked.

You didn’t leave.

You just stood there.

One brow twitching.

Your face heating up more and more.

Zoro wiped his face with his towel, still trying to act cool.

“You know… I was almost close…”

He mumbled.

Your eye twitched. “Zoro.”

Still being completely red.

“You didn’t leave?”

He glanced up, startled.

“Obviously!”

You yelled out.

He blinked… then smirked. “Guess you were enjoying the view.”

You proceed to throw a towel at his face and scream.

Vinsmoke Sanji

You were coming to call him for lunch, but the kitchen door was slightly open…

And inside, Sanji was leaned on the counter, muttering,

“…y/n… so soft… so perfect…”

You blinked.

“SANJI?!”

He jumped so high he nearly hit the ceiling. “y/n?! I—I was just—”

“Fantasizing?!”

You yelled out.

“I—It’s a chef thing! I was describing a.. dish! A... very tender and flavorful... cake..?”

You raised an eyebrow, being skeptical.

“With your name in it.. hehe..”

He said with a pathetic smile on his face.

“Your name is sweeter than any dessert. I can’t help it.”

He held his heart and said with so much compassion.

You groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Almost letting him get away with it.

He winked. “Oh, I know.”

He turned his back for a moment.

Thinking you went out.

But you stayed standing right there in the kitchen doorway, staring.

He noticed too late.

“…I was almost close…” he whispered dreamily.

“SANJI.”

He jumped, eyes wide. “Y-You’re still here?!”

“I never even left!! Idiot!!”

He dropped to his knees like he’d been mortally wounded.

“Forgive me, mon amour!! My imagination got the better of me!”

“You’re impossible.”

You groaned, face buried in your hands.

He peeked up. “...So, do you want to help me finish the thought?”

“SANJI!!!”

[rkivefae]

(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

[dolicekiss]

A debt

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon niece!reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni please), dubcon, lucerys velaryon reader (basically reader is lucerys velaryon but female), toxic aemond, threats, unprotected sex (p in v), near death experiment, hair pulling, rough making out, attempted sexual asssult, breeding, virgin!reader, bickering, mentions of blood, tension, kinda angsty

SYNOPSIS: Aemond could never forget that you had taken his eye out, so when you both cross paths at Storm’s End, he demands for what was taken from him. Things went haywire when a sneak attack lead you to fall from your dragon and be swallowed by the large waves. Only that you didn't die, as Aemond finds you and saves you. With nowhere to take you, the prince takes you to a brothel hoping Sylvie would keep you safe there. Little did be know, a beautiful girl such as yourself was not a thing to be put in a brothel.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

Blue sapphire sparkled in the hollowness of Aemond’s eye when he peeled back his eye patch and revealed the wound you had left behind as a little girl. A regret at best but not anymore. You swallowed, heart thumping in your chest. You possessed no desire to fight him, nor did you wish to indulge with him.

You were only a messenger here.

“One would serve.” Aemond softly spoke, as you watched him reach for a dagger. “I would not blind you.”

The piercing sound of the dagger being tossed at you was more pellucid against your ears than the gushing rainstorm outside. Patterning aggressively on the cobblestones, striking thunder tearing through the sky. The seven were definitely upset, for what was about to take place. An ominous feeling looming over your head, putting your heart in a state of unease.

“Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

There was no way he could expect you to take out your own eye. You had acted upon impulse but you were right to do so. He was going to injure your brother and you, that stone in his hand a vivid image embedded in your mind from childhood.

You held your head high, fierce gaze focused on him. “No.”

Aemond seemed disappointed by your response. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

You could hear Lord Borris’ rebuke in the back but it mattered little to Aemond as he marched towards you abruptly, causing you to retreat back. “Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”

“Come fucking take it then.”

Swords were unsheathed and the sound of it echoed within the halls of Lord Borris' castle.

You were filled with panic, your long black braid moving behind your back when you took haste steps back. Before bloodshed could happen, Lord Borris stepped in and sent you back to your dragon. You were thankful for that as this could lead to something worse.

You went out, going to your dragon, Arrax who seemed in quite distress. You patted his back, once or twice and commanded for it to calm down in high valyrian but nothing seemingly worked. Rain had soaked into your clothes and the thunderstorm only grew heavier witch each second. As you mounted it, your gaze set on the empty space where Vhagar once sat.

You made it your goal to reach dragonstone safely and convey the Lord’s message to your mother.

As Arrax flew up in the grey sky, you looked around hoping to not find Aemond but when the massive shadow of Vhagar flew atop you in the clouds, your blood froze. Panic rising up and you knew very well that fighting Aemond in a dragon combat would end with you losing since he had claimed the largest dragon in all of Westeros.

You could feel your dragon’s uneasiness, same as yours and that was not a good sign.

Aemon had disappeared for now and you released a breath of relief, turning your dragon to head for dragonstone.

Only then Vhagar came in front of you, out of nowhere, with its wide mouth open sending your dragon in pure disarray. You tried to control it, in hopes that things will calm down if one dragon is calm enough but no.

Aemond’s laugh echoed in the open sky and it was enough to fill you with chills. You felt Vhagar right behind you, its loud roars having the same affect as Aemond’s malicious laughs. You saw a narrow pathway between two stones and went inside, knowing Vhagar would be incapable of fitting in there with its large size.

Your commands to calm your dragon down were pathetic and useless.

It was scared, as were you.

You could hear Aemond’s deep voice, and it terrified you.

“Jemēla gēlyēni enkā, riña.” Those words, you knew what they meant and you knew Aemond would only calm when he has ripped out your eye from your socket, a vision you would be.

Fearsome was the thought.

Your vision had blurred due to the constant pouring of the rain and your own head was everywhere. But then, out of nowhere your dragon spots Vhagar and in desperate need to protect itself, flies at the beast and breathes fire into her face.

“Lykiri, Arrax! Lykiri!” Your command in high valyrian flies over your tense dragon’s head as you fly away from Vhagar.

You can hear Vhagar losing its calm too, as Aemond’s high valyrian commands roared along with his dragon. You turned around, looking down but there was no sight of Vhagar chasing after you now, so you flew higher.

You broke through the barrier of the dark, looming clouds and when light greeted you, relief washed over you. False assumptions that everything was calm now became the reason of your fall as Vhagar out of nowhere leaped from the side, biting Arrax‘s head into two.

“Vhagar, no!”

Your eyes widened in horror, gaze locking with Aemond as you lost balance and fell down.

That was all you remembered, as you passed out due to the panic and lose of hope. You knew from then on, you were better off dead but what broke your heart the most was the gruesomely demise of your beloved dragon.

Aemond knew he had to find you.

Vhagar had missed you by an inch and the chances of you being alive were somewhat there. He did not wish to start a war, not like this, not by killing off his niece when she was at her weakest.

He had the advantage by being in the possession of the biggest dragon and he knew it was not fair to you.

Aemond dived in, lowering his dragon to the sea, in hopes that he would find you. Endlessly searching in the water, letting out frustrated grunts when he didn't find you. He flew over the shore, all deserted and he noticed something. Bringing Vhagar closer to it, he jumped off her back and ran towards your passed out body.

Thankfully you had washed up on the shore.

Your long braid wrapped around your stomach, the side of your head bloodied and Aemond fell to his knees, reaching for your face.

You were as lifeless as a corpse.

He checked your pulse and relief washed over him. You were alive, although unconscious.

Aemond buried his arms beneath your soaked body, lifting you up and taking you over to Vhagar. He somehow got you on his dragon’s back and tied you to him, your back pressed against his chest and head leaned over his shoulder.

“Fuck, what do I with you now?” He whispered, a mix of worry and frustration donning his face.

He couldn't take you back to the red keep, as they would capture you and hold you hostage. He didn't want that, not when he had not captured you with honor. Aemond was not some monster without morals but he sure could not take you to the blacks, knowing it would put his life in danger.

There was absolutely nothing he could do than fly around Westeros with you on his dragon.

An idea infiltrated the prince's mind.

There was only one place where he could keep you, without bringing you harm and that was the brothel he often visited. Under Sylvie’s care and under her orders, she surely would protect you and keep you safe.

He sighed, flying to where Vhagar usually rested. He allowed her rest while taking a horse, putting his hoodie over your very bright and pleasant features to conceal you.

The realm had seen you, he did not wish for people to take notice of you. Aemond pressed you into his chest as he rode in King's landing, making way to Sylvie’s brothel.

That was the best place to keep you.

As his own hostage.

For no one else to hurt, no one else to lay claim on you.

Sylvie was surprised to see the prince with an unconscious woman in his arms. Aemond only had to glare at her and she allowed him in. Thankfully it was broad daylight and there were not much customers — giving the young prince enough room to smuggle you in the confinement of a room in a secluded area of the brothel upstairs.

“My prince, who is she?”

Aemond sighed, tiresome all this was but it was his fault and deep down he knew that.

“Just know that she is mine and I am entrusting her to you.” Aemond said, staring at your unconscious body laying on the soft bed. “If harm comes to even a strand of her hair, I will behead you and your girls.”

Sylvie was terrified and it was rare of her to be this terrified of Aemond. His tone was dark and she knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was definitely not to sell to her customers. All the woman could do was nod at the prince, obeying his each and every command.

“Trust me, my prince. Rest assured. I shall take care of her like she is my own.”

Aemond was pleased. “Tend to her wounds, clean her and change her clothes. Give her your most expensive dress.”

Sylvie nodded, eyes lowered to the floor as Aemond continued analyzing you. You had the most longest hair he had ever laid eye upon. A long braid which reached your calves and it was as dark as a raven. You surely were no velaryon, as much as you went around parading it like your mother.

But you surely were a Targaryen.

He departed from the brothel, writing a mental note that he would visit again tonight.

Hours passed by and when you finally regained consciousness, it was not in the arms of death nor the waves but on a soft mattress, surrounded by candles everywhere and the strong sweet scent of oils and perfumes.

Your gaze fell on your attire and it was something you would never in your seven lives wear.

A long sleeved dress, made of sheer material, enough to expose your small clothes. Your shoulders revealed and glistening from the oils that had been rubbed on you. Your hand reached to feel your thick braid but instead wavy strands awaited you. Cascading down your back, surrounding you like a fucking gown. You were in a completely different attire than before.

Soft music orchestrated by someone unknown made its tunes inside the room you were in.

It was small, with a bed and a table side. A chair was also in the corner and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes flitting here and there to analyze the room further.

The door soon opened and it revealed a woman, in her mid fourties and you blinked upon seeing her disheveled state. She was practically naked and slowly the realization began to sink in.

“Is this a brothel?”

The woman had the sweetest smile on her lips as she nodded, in her hand a jug you assumed filled with wine. In her other, a golden cup. A grimace made its way on your face, disgust evident but there was also unmatched anger. You were going to slaughter whoever that had brought you here.

Had they sold you?

Did Aemond do this? It would not make sense at all since you knew he would have abandoned you the moment you fell off your dragon. There was no way he would search for you but if it wasn't him then someone else had found you and put you here.

Your head felt like it could burst at any given moment and you realized how bad of a throbbing pain was in the side of your head. It ached and when you reached for it, you flinched.

“By what means am I here? I need to know who put me in such a horrible filthy place.”

You watched with a sharp eye as she poured the liquid into the cup, extending it out for you once finished. You blinked, shaking your head. “I demand answers, not wine.”

“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those but he will be here soon.”

You snatched the cup of wine from her hand and tossed it across the room, watching as the glass made contact with the wall and collapsed in the corner. The woman’s grin grew wider as she realized you were no low born for sure. The amount of money she could make off you was unmatched but she knew better than to defy Aemond’s orders.

“You have the temperaments of a high born lady.” Sylvie said, head tilted as she admired the beauty you were blessed with. “No wonder I was told to take care of you.”

There was not a mark on your face, like you'd been blessed by the seven themselves. You were a piece of art and how she'd gotten you ready only made you appear like Venus, the goddess of love and sex, fertility even.

Sylvie left the room, to attend to her guests but not before warning you. “Do not leave this room, girl. There are wolves out there and they won't hesitate to rip you to shreds. You are safe here.”

You felt chills at her words, well aware of the atrocities men committed here with women.

You chewed on your lip, knees brought to your chest as you hugged them tightly while your arms wrapped around them. You wanted to cry, you missed your brothers and your mother. Being her only daughter, you knew her whole being resided within you and you wished to send a letter at least about your whereabouts.

She surely would come to save you.

Confused, scared and cornered, you stayed glued to your position.

Then the room door opened and a man entered. Your head lifted up from your knee pads and you backed into the wall seeing how drunk this man was. His wobbly walk told you he had more than enough to drink and now he was staggering towards you.

“I knew that bitch was hiding something here.” He said, a sick grin on his face and your eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the man's hands that were extended to grab a hold of you. “Such a pretty girl like you should be downstairs, not here. But then it's good you're here. I get to have you all for myself.”

“Touch me and I will make you wish you were never born.” You spat, a venom in your tone as your posture shifted.

You were on guard and you had always trained under your step father, Daemon. You knew how to defend yourself, as well as take down a life if you had to. There was nothing in this world that you would not do to protect yourself and when the man's flimsy endeavor to grab you slipped, you rolled over the bed to reach for the cup of wine.

You swallowed.

You had trained but you never once had to fight someone to save your life, dignity and honor.

This was real, this was what you had trained for.

Adrenaline pumped through your blood, since the man was evidently twice your delicate size. You watched with a sharp gaze as he scoffed, reaching for you. Before his hands could come in contact with your exposed shoulders, you struck down the man's hand with the sharp edge of the wine glass.

He let out a scream, nearly succumbing to his knees. “You fucking bitch.”

You stared as blood soaked his clothes, the cut deep and brutal on his hand. This only encouraged his lust for you, an anger igniting in his eyes. He seemed pretty sober now as he got back up and slammed you against the wall with newfound force.

“Fucking whore. You don't have to act this hard to get. I swear I'll pay more than what the others do.” His words were like salt to the wound, as he held you over the wall. You had nothing on him now, as the man buried his face into your neck.

He sniffed, satisfied with the scent of the oils staining your skin. Before his lips could come in contact with your skin, the door slammed open and you saw Aemond.

The moment he laid his gaze on you, in such a horrible and disgusting situation, something inside him snapped. His jaw tightened and Aemond forgot that he was in a brothel and causing a scene could put you in danger.

You felt the force of the man disappear as Aemond pulled him off you, pinning him to the ground with his knee into his neck. You watched as your uncle delivered punch after punch, ruining the set of very basic features on his face.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on her? On her, of all people?” His voice was loud as for each word, a taut punch was sent to the man's face.

Sylvie entered the room, in a panicked state, witnessing the disheveled state of both Aemond and you in front of him. She recognized the man as one of her clients and when Aemond caught her in his eye, he stood up and grabbed the woman by her throat, pressing her into the wall.

He leaned in, darkness imposing a threat. “I gave you one fucking job, and you failed.”

“I-I swear I don't know how he found her. My Prince believe me, I-I would never misplace something you told me to take care of.”

You watched the whole scene unfold, with blurring tears in your eyes, a soft sniffle escaping you. The man's touch was disgusting and it still lingered over your shoulders, the stains of blood tainting the purity of your skin. You could not believe what was going on, all you knew that Aemond was aware of your whereabouts which could only mean one thing; he himself put you here. Was this how low the Greens were willing to go, to win the war? By tainting the Queen’s reputation and putting you in a brothel for commoners to use and throw?

“Get out of my fucking sight and hand this fucking filth to my guards. I will see what it is to be done of him.” Aemond elucidated each word for the woman and she nodded, grabbing the man and dragging him out. “And bring me some water and a clean cloth.” His head turned in your direction, gaze locking with your blurred one.

You were still frozen in that position, not being able to move an inch. Your body had stilled from how sudden and scary everything was.

Aemond took a step towards now that you two were alone and you flinched. “Please don't.”

He stilled, staring at you. You were close to breaking apart, he could see it. Tears falling down in small streams, glistening over the golden glow of the candle casting on your face.

“I would never force myself upon you.” He said, almost offended that you would expect something like that from him in the first place. He was cold, stoic, he knew but did you really see him in such a horrible light? It bothered him when it should not have, it shouldn't matter what you have got to say or think about him.

“Did you throw me in here as revenge for your eye, Uncle?” You spoke, throat feeling like it was being prickled by needles because of how much you were holding yourself back from breaking into a fit of sobs and tears.

He raised a brow and then proceeded to scoff. “You really do see me as some tyrant.”

“You chased me on your dragon and made me fall, I could have died!” You shouted, taking a step forward. Your sadness had transformed into anger, and now your tears were flowing freely. A ton of emotions overwhelming your little frame and Aemond saw it.

The tick in his jaw grew, fists still clenched and blood dripping from them. “But you didn't. I found you and I brought you here to keep you safe—”

“Safe? Safe?! You brought me here, to this god forsaken place to keep me safe? Just say it, Uncle.” You fumed, stepping up to the man you once feared. “You wanted to humiliate me. You want me to get used, be some common man's whore.”

Aemond’s patience was running thin and when he imagined you as a whore, it ran out right before you. His feet moved with such ability as he marched in your direction, slamming you against the corner, palms glued to the wall. He breathed down your face, his sharp chin brushing against yours.

Your breath hitched, being this close to your Uncle was completely new and you were rendered speechless.

“The greens will hold you hostage.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They will parade you around on a fucking horse for the whole of King's Landing to bear witness.”

You stared into his one eye, chest rising up and down as suddenly your body had forgotten how to lure in some air. “Could've taken me home.”

“They would take me hostage for the cause of your injured state.” He whispered, in a much softer tone. “There was nowhere for me to take you in your current state, only here.”

“A brothel, Uncle.” You said, tears once again threatening to spill and they did. Your soft sniffles echoing in the room, remembering what the man had done and how filthy his touch felt. You felt defiled and he hadn't even done something worse, something that could never be taken back. Your bloodied shoulders shook violently from how much you were crying, body going slump and Aemond quickly held you in his arms, not allowing you to succumb to the floor.

His strong arms held you — with overbearing strength, holding you whilst you cried.

In truth, you hated every bit of this war. Things were much better before the death of your grandsire, King Viserys. The crown made people greedy, the more they looked at it. It possessed the type of power which was too overwhelming for anyone and everyone. Like a curse, it slowly poisoned the mind of its bearer. The same was happening with the Greens as they had usurped your mother's throne.

“You should've left me to die.” You managed to say through your broken cries.

Aemond released a bated breath. “It was never my intention for something as grave as that to happen. It was merely an attempt to intimidate you.”

You understood him. Despite all this fucked up shit, you did. You had taken his eye out, left him disabled. His siblings had all their parts but Aemond felt empty, he felt incomplete and you had played a big part in it. Both of you had realized your mistakes a long time ago yet no one owned up to it, no one possessed the courage to reach out the other for closure.

You never apologized for the bullying encouraged by his brother, he never apologized for assaulting your brothers. You never apologized for taking his eye and he never apologized for attempting to intimidate you with his dragon — which made you suffer a great loss. Remotely close to his.

“Arrax,” you sobbed, in the arms of the man who was the cause of your state. “my poor dragon. He was so scared, I could feel it. He was afraid.”

Aemond wanted to apologize. He wanted to because he was aware of a rider’s bond with its dragon. Yet no words left his mouth, his palm running up and down your back rather awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea on what to do with you now. Your forehead was pressed into his chest as you sobbed.

But then you looked up at him, with a piercing gaze. “You are as childish and as pathetic the day I took your fucking eye out, Aemond.” This time you did not address him as your uncle and your words riled him up even more. You were at his mercy, you should not have played with fire like that and Aemond snapped.

“I'm pathetic?” He asked with darkness behind his tone. “You're the one pinned neath me. I could easily have you, take my revenge.”

“You're going to take my eye out, Uncle? Do it. Finish it, once and for all.” You seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at him. Aemond tightened his hold on your frail wrists causing you to wince and flinch. He restrained both hands with one of his and moved the other to grasp your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “No, I will take something more precious, something that is worth more than an eye to a maiden such as yourself.”

“You wouldn't.” You said, shaking your head after realizing what he was hinting at. You knew the significance of your maidenhood and Aemond was going to hurt you right where it hurt the most. “I am your niece, you would not.”

“Did your mother not marry her uncle, Gevives?” (Beauty)

You flinched at the way his voice dropped when he spoke high valyrian. The situation you were in didn't help either, with Aemond’s whole body weight on top of you but enough to not crush you. The room elevated with tension as you opened your mouth to protest but a knock on the door interrupted you both.

“Come in.”

The door parted, revealing Sylvie along with a cloth in her hand and a bucket of clean water.

“Leave it on the table.” Aemond commanded, not paying her any mind and the woman obliged before leaving the room.

Your uncle reached for the cloth, soaking it into the water. You struggled, squirming in his tenacious grip and all Aemond did was keep his eye on you while he soaked the fabric fully into the water. Once it was soaked enough, he pulled it out and leaned down, face only a few inches apart from yours. Your breath got stuck in your throat.

He swiped the cloth over the blood stains on your collarbones, gently and carefully. The action itself caused arousal to pool in your cunt, your thighs squeezing together and Aemond felt it. He let out a breath, sending it to tingle your skin and you gasped out at how close he was to you.

“The idea of someone else's blood on you vexes me.” Aemond confessed, moving the fabric down to the cups of your small shoulders. He swiped it across the skin, watching as your skin became free from the taints of filth.

You licked your lips, breath ragged. “You have gone insane, Uncle.”

“I have, maybe I truly have.” Aemond’s eye was focused on the sharp bone embedded in your skin, known as your collarbone. His desires were taking the best of him and he hated himself for it. You were his niece, the same little girl who took his fucking eye out and is now his enemy — the same girl who would betray him in a heartbeat for her mother.

Abandon him for her pretender of a mother.

Yet the man did not care enough to stop whatever he was doing.

“How will you take something more precious when it is painfully obvious who is the more experienced brother, according to the rumors of the Keep.” You hissed and Aemond inhaled, a serpent you'd become in such a short span. Aemond stopped cleaning your skin, since he was finished and tossed the fabric aside.

His fingers clamped around your chin. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. You are only tempting me, niece.”

It was obviously a warning but you could not back out, not when you had held hostility all your life towards him. “For all I know, I am not even of your nature. I have heard you like them older, my Prince.” A mischievous smirk ceased your features. It was all a facade to come off strong. “Like her. Is she the one you visit in brothels? You know her too well.”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shove my cock in it. Would you like that, hm? You're probably a pathetic little slut exactly like your mother.” Aemond threatened, suppressing the urge to strike his hand over your cheek. His grip on your chin tightened, his fingers craning your face up as his breath mingled with yours.

“How sad that the one who is putting all his effort in winning the war was never bound to get the throne nor become the object of his mother's affections.” You taunted and that hit Aemond where you wanted it to hit. “How does it feel, Uncle? To not receive an ounce of love from both your father and mother.”

“At least I am not a bastard.” He spat, and you knew that was coming. It was their one valid argument after all. “I might be a bastard but both my mother and father cherish me, love me, for who I was, for what I am. You are a sad, pathetic case.”

Aemond’s hand moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling you over to the bed to toss you on it like some ragdoll. You gasped when your frail body collided against the bed, feeling it bounce a little. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to face him but Aemond was already standing before you, his knee dipping into the bed.

“Let’s see if that mouth of yours can still produce coherent words when I am fucking your sweet cunt.” Breath uneven and lips shuddering, you stared at him as he pushed aside the curtains of the bed and maneuvered inside, crawling on top of you.

You tried to run, a feeble and failed attempt at escaping from the dragon you had awakened. Aemond locked you in place by one hand around your leg, pinning you down against the bed. His harsh actions made you miss the man in who's arms you had cried and how gently he held you, like you were a lover and not the one he despised the most.

“Even though you never apologized, I forgive you.” He whispered, reaching for his eye and removing the patch to reveal the familiar sapphire again. A reminder of the events that took place between you two.

You felt horrible, guilt overpowering and over consuming. “You threatened me with a stone. I was only protecting myself and my brother.”

“You humiliated me, at every chance you and that bastard brother of yours got. Were the indignities caused by my brother not enough that you two had to join in?” His tone was almost sad and you realized how awfully you had been to him, all for the sake of momentarily fun. The picture from his side was painted cruelly and your lips shivered.

Was apologizing going to be enough?

Is it going to be enough when your uncle was on top of you, about to commit the most vilest of crime.

“I'm sorry.” Came a wholehearted whisper from you, a sad expression adorning your face. “It is not enough to bring your eye back or take back everything and you do not have—”

“I told you, I forgive you.” He said, his hand cupping your shoulder, fingers tugging underneath the sleeve hanging around your arm. “But you must be punished. You must face the consequences of your own actions.”

“Uncle, we were children.” You attempted to justify but that was like sprinkle of fuel to the fire.

Aemond pulled your sleeve, causing it to rip and your eyes widened in horror. His other hand ripped the other sleeve as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You were not only terrified but weirdly aroused too. Your uncle's anger was obvious but the subtle change between his rough tugs and gentle kisses left you light headed as well as overwhelmed. You breathed in, and then released it, in hopes that he would calm down but Aemond was too far gone.

“Uncle, stop it.” He tried to push at his chest.

Aemond grabbed your wrists, locking them over his chest. “I will only stop once I put a silver haired bastard inside you.”

“Fucking me in a whorehouse, putting a bastard in me. You have truly planned this out, no?” You said, putting up a strong facade but deep down you were scared. You did not wish to give birth to a bastard, knowing you yourself were one. Born out of wedlock to your mother and her guard, sir Harwin strong.

You knew how badly were they treated and the thought of giving birth to one pained you.

“Would you be so cruel to put a babe in me and then abandon it?” You asked — staring up at him with glossy eyes. You writhed in his hold but to no avail as his one hand clamped over your wrist while the other moved to tug at your neckline, causing your breasts to spill out.

Aemond hissed. He'd realized you had grown now and you were not the same little girl who helped his brother make his life a living hell. Your nipples rosy and hardened and he sighed, fondling the plush fat. “The image of you walking around dragonstone with my silver haired bastard tugging at the skirt of your dress, demanding attention. A reminder of what his father did to you swells my cock.”

“Get off me. You're fucking mad if you think I would carry your children.” Your endeavors to fight him were a lost cause, trying to land punches at his chest but they were gone in vain. Aemond had control, he had power over you by being stronger, more muscular. “I will drink moon tea. You cannot force me to have your child."

“Then I must keep you here and breed you every single night until you are swollen with my babe.”

He got off you and flipped you on your stomach, hands covetously ripping apart the expensive chiffon dress, revealing your bare back. Your small shoulders trembling and chills dancing down the small of your back when the cold air brushed against your skin.

“Stop it.” It came out muffled as Aemond buried your face into the mattress.

Not only had he intended to fuck you, he was going to do it like you were some common whore. Either taking you on your back or on your stomach. You bit back a soft cry as his fingertips danced across your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tears glossed your vision and you let out a tentative whimper when his hand groped a handful of your plush ass.

“It is time to pay the consequences of your actions, Bastard.” Aemond’s words were hoarse making you flinch.

He had locked you in place with his own body and soon enough he also stripped himself off his attire. You could not see, but you could hear the metallic jingling of his sword and dagger against one another, his belt and briefs shuffling together. Aemond’s hand flew back to grip your nape, forcing your face deeper into the pillow.

Your body was not fully bare as his, some aspects still covered by the tethered pieces of fabric.

Aemond reached over and hoisted you up into his arms, pushing your body on your palms and knees. Despite your struggle and continuous objection, he still managed to put you in the most degrading position ever. You were like a fucking animal — ass pushed out for him and the tears finally fell. His fingers dug into the side of your hips, holding you in place.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

Your constant expressions of your loathsome did not bother Aemond in the slightest. Your mouth did not matter to him, it was your cunt that did. He didn't even mind to prepare you, all he did was align his hardened leaking tip at your soaked hole and pushed. Loud grunts and high pitched whimpers tore through you both as you felt him breach your maidenhead and defile you with determination. Bittersweet pain had blossomed in between your thighs, your cunt a bleeding mess but Aemond continued, pushing his cock furthermore until he was fully sheathed inside your walls.

“The cunt of a bastard is surely more pleasurable than a whore's. I shouldn't let you go to dragonstone, I should make you my personal little whore. For me to use and breed.”

Your cries of pain and broken sobs did not falter him as he relished them — enjoying the way your hiccups sounded. Frail and light, allowing him to have the pleasure of revenge he was denied off all his life. But not anymore, as he had you right where he wanted. This humiliation was much better than taking your eye out.

“A-Aemond,” you sobbed mindlessly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp which lead it to grow firmer. “hurts, please it hurts. Be gentle, please for the Gods.”

You knew that begging him to stop was futile but maybe if you begged enough for him to be gentle, he would be kind enough to not ravage you like some beast. Your broken little sobs worked in your favor as Aemond allowed you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of his manhood, as he had forgiven you after all.

He did not loathe you.

He only wished for consequences, for revenge.

This was it.

Aemond lowered his face next to your ears, taut chest pressed over your sweaty spine as he whispered in your ear. “If I don't take you now, I would continue to harbor ill intentions for you. This is for the best.”

It was all a lie, a way to manipulate you.

You nodded, finally succumbing and Aemond felt a strong overwhelming sense of victory wash over him.

He slowly pulled out of you before drilling back inside you, repeatedly and over the course of him pummeling his cock inside you, you became a writhing, blubbering mess. It was too much for your little body as Aemond continuously fucked his cock into you. Built like him it was. Long, slender and you'd assumed it was as beautiful as him too.

Your hands were let go from their tight hold and you found them buried into the soft sheets, fingers intertwined with the pale pillows and sheets. Each thrust sent your body forwards and you whined, feeling his cock head bruise your cervix, aiming upwards for that perfect spot of yours.

“Oh!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull at one particular thrust, feeling him hit an area unexplored.

Aemond’s brows creased together, realizing he had finally found the sweet spot he was hunting for. His movement grew relentless, in fast, deep drills he abused that sensitive area as he watched you ascend deeper into the stairs to heaven. Your knuckles had gone white from the strong hold and your knees shivered from Aemond’s force.

“If you'd given yourself up to me like this, I would not have had to hunt you to satisfy my thirst for revenge.” Aemond panted, his words accompanied by loud striking sounds of skin meeting skin. “You should have visited my chambers when you took my fucking eye out. Should have stripped naked, spread your legs for me to take your sweet cunt.”

“Please, stop,” came a broken murmur from you, wishing to forget about that god forsaken night. “d–didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt you. I was scared, was terrified of Vhagar.”

“But you did. You took out my eye, left me hideous.” Aemond had always felt monstrous, empty and incomplete. These feelings were all gifted by you and now he wanted you to feel the same.

Left incomplete, defiled and empty.

Aemond’s hand moved down to grab a fistful of your hair from the roots, pulling up until you two were one body. His chest over your spine, as he fucked himself into you, deep and vigorous strokes. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets down your face, as Aemond circled another arm around your breasts, holding you in place to fuck you like you were some doll made for his sickly pleasures.

You made the grave mistake of moving your head and found him already staring at you. Lips parted, letting out breathless little pants and the sapphire danced in his empty socket, a reminder of your actions. He saw you, close and noticed all the features littered across your face. The freckles over your nose, the dark strands clinging to your perspired forehead and the way your nose scrunched up whenever he thrusted inside you. Gods, you were a heavenly sight, one that only he was fortunate enough to witness.

Aemond fought back the urge to claim your lips in a kiss — that action too intimate, than using your cunt to satisfy his hunger.

But eventually caved in as he took your lips into an aggressive lock, a firm kiss it was. He bite and licked at your lips, shoving a wet tongue past the pair and slithering inside like a snake. You whined, hoping that he would slow down but Aemond devoured you like a starved mad man. Teeth clashing with teeth, tongue battling with tongue, he swallowed all the little sounds you produced. His gruesome kiss had left you lightheaded when he pulled back to look at you.

In a daze you appeared.

Aemond stared at your swollen lips while you gazed upon his lips, dumbfounded and taken aback by his sudden desire to kiss you like a beast.

“I-I don't find you hideous.” It was a whimper but it caused his thrusts to stall, coming to a halt. He stared at you, surprised by your words and his stomach burned in anticipation knowing well enough you would say something worse.

But what you said next left him astonished and with a newly ignited desire. “I think you're.. pretty, prettier than Aegon.”

You couldn't compare him to your brothers as the famous targaryen features were not shared amongst them but Aegon had the same features as Aemond yet you have always found him the most prettiest Targaryen man ever. He was slim, but not in a bad way — he had the right amount of muscles and perfect height. Aemond possessed the type of beauty which did not decrease by losing an eye.

“A lie.” He growled, shaking his head.

You looked at him with the most innocent doe eyes. “I mean it. Losing an eye did not make you hideous, Aemond. You are still as beautiful as ever.”

He didn't respond and his impassive face told you that he was not phased by your genuine words but Aemond felt fucking butterflies nip at his stomach. His cock hardened even more if that were possible and he dropped you on the bed, continuing his assault. His hips snapped deliberately inside you, with newfound vigor and strength. You gasped out, your gummy walls tightening around his length as he drilled his cock inside you.

The compliment, the validation he'd received from you and how genuine it was — it drove him mad. Even his own mother failed to comfort him but you, the fucking preparator out of all people managed to. It angered him but also soothed over the burn you'd left.

Aemond felt his peak near, dancing around him and soon he reached it — his hips stuttering and his hot seed spurting inside you in ropes. “Fuck, fuck. I should fill you up and leave you here. A fucking whore with a Targaryen bastard.” You felt him taint your insides, leaving a mark that would always linger like how you'd left a scar on his face. Feeling his seed fill you up, you also unravelled as Aemond fucked the hot fluid into your womb, making sure you end up with a babe of his own.

Your eyes saw white and your thighs twitched, knees giving out and body finally colliding into the sheets. Yet Aemond continued thrusting, the wet squelching sound of your peak mixed with his grossing you out. Your tears had dried so more were released, going the same route as the ones from before.

You couldn't even resist anymore, nor rebel.

Aemond pulled his softened cock out of you and watched as your destroyed, gaping hole threw up his spent. It was hot and he shuddered at the thought of you swollen with his child.

He should've hated the idea of your breasts leaking with milk for his babe, swollen and peaked but instead he found himself aching to witness it in real life, not some fucked up imagination. He couldn't take you, as badly as he wished to. You were not his to keep but he was letting you go with a piece of him inside your womb.

He laid with you, but you'd not expected him to lay an arm over your small waist. Your body spent and completely frail from his monstrosity but Aemond wished for more, he craved more yet he gave you time to rejuvenate and collect yourself.

“Did you mean it?”

You raised your gaze at him, bemused.

“A-About me, being pretty. Did you mean it or was that also to deceive me?” He asked, failing to make eye contact. He stared ahead at the ceiling and you nodded your head slowly, throat parched. “I did. I would not lie about that.”

His chest swell up with an unfathomable feeling, something beyond his own understanding as he pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. Aemond was in a dilemma, confused about what had to be done. He wanted to be more cruel, more horrible but it was not in him to show you more cruelty than you deserved.

[softspiderling]

and there you are on your knees | j.v

summary:

For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

OR; Prince Jacaerys Velaryon arrives at the Twins to secure passing for the troops marching for his cause. He is successful in more ways than one.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+, MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), p in v, as usual, Jace has been aged up to 20!

word count: 1,8k

author’s note: remember when i posted that pic of jace like three weeks ago? i looked at it last week and went "what if...?👀" and this was born. idk😭😭 also am i crazy or hasnt anyone written anything about this scene before?? that’s illegal🙅🏻‍♀️ anyways tagging my hotd bestie @eldrith ily thanks for letting me yap your ear off, happy reading y’all🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had heard rumours about the first son of Queen Rhaenyra; every lady that had met him sighed over his luscious dark brown locks or the handsomeness of his face that seemed to be carved out of the most expensive stone in the whole realm. Still, you were quite taken aback by how beautiful he really was when he crossed the bridge of the Twins, his dragon waiting for him in the greens just by the tower.

He truly knew how to make a first impression last.

“Lady Frey, Lord Frey,” Prince Jacaerys said, nodding to the sitting pair, hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flickered to you for a second.

“Lady…?”

“Frey, my Prince.”

Prince Jacaerys raised a surprise eyebrow but let it go uncommented, only eyeing you up and down very briefly before taking his sword off as he sat down.

Lady Frey poured him wine and without much preamble, they begun their talks of trades. You kept yourself mostly to the back, fulfilling your role as a ward, ever present but never putting your nose in affairs you had no business in. You tried to listen, the Prince seemingly asking for passing for troops coming in from the North, which Lady and Lord Frey agreed to after some negotiations; but you tried to use the advantage of being ignored to take in the Prince. He was young still, but he carried himself with a certain aura of power and confidence, which was a given; he was the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms after all.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted and you quickly put your very inappropriate thoughts about the Crown Prince away, trying to pay atention once more.

“You want Harrenhal.”

Lord and Lady Frey glanced at each other in silent conversation, while the Prince finished his drink, standing to hold his cup out for Lady Frey to refill.

“For that, my mother will want more than your crossing,” Prince Jacaerys said easily, his chin held high.

“What does her Grace desire?”

Prince Jacaerys discarded his cup on the table, leaning both his hands on it, towering over Lord and Lady Frey. For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were scandalous and really downright filthy as the prince kept thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth, one hand fisted around your hair, the other holding onto his tunic, so he had an unobstructed view of you.

When Prince Jacaerys had asked you to show him the privy before he left, you had not expected him to back you into a secluded corner of the hallway, his lips upon yours and you felt like you were in a dream.

You were on your knees, your pretty dress flared out on the dirty floor, the hard stones digging into your shins, likely leaving bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“If I had known the Freys had such a pretty little thing for a ward, I would have come sooner,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, making you whine softly. He tightened his hold on your hair a little, snapping his hips up and tears sprang into your eyes as you nearly choked at the sheer size of him. Your hands grabbed at his waist to steady yourself, as he fucked his cock into your mouth, before he pulled out with a groan.

“Fuck, you nearly made me release,” Prince Jacaerys muttered, swiping his thumb over your lower lip. “But I am not quite done with you yet.”

He grabbed you by the arm, helping you stand, pressing his lips against yours, inarguably tasting himself on you, but Prince Jacaerys didn’t seem to mind. You pulled away from the kiss, your chest still heaving and your cheeks red. All of this was new to you, and you were embarrassed that you had to catch your breath.

Prince Jacaerys looked down on you with a smirk, brushing the sweaty hair off of your forehead.

“Turn around,” he said, turning you by the shoulder to press you up against the cold stone of the wall. “Have you ever laid with another man?”

“No,” you answered with a shake of your head, your cheeks turning a deeper red, nervous and excited at the same time, at the prospect of a man taking your maidenhood, the crown prince of the Iron Throne nonetheless.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you repeated, voice breathless. "Please, I want this."

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, making you shiver.

Slotting himself against your back, Prince Jacaerys lifted the skirt of your dress to reach between your legs, his fingers rubbing over your pearl, your hips bucking in surprise as you moaned out.

“Patience, my sweets,” Prince Jacaerys rumbled, trapping your skirt under his arm, which he snuck around your waist. His fingers circled into your folds, gathering your wetness before he dipped one finger into your cunt.

“Oh Gods help me,” you moaned, writhing in his arm and Prince Jacaerys only chuckled.

“No Gods here, only me.”

He pumped his finger in and out of your cunt, until your walls acclimated to the intrusion and he added another finger, making you roll your eyes to the back. Never before have you felt such pleasure down there, you weren’t sure if you could go back to not knowing how it felt.

“Just… One more,” Prince Jacaerys mumbled, adding a third finger and you felt incredibly full, like you were split open, but in a good way? The pads of his fingers kept brushing against the spongy part inside of you, which made you curl your toes in your shoes. You leaned your forehead against the cold stone, feeling a growing sensation in your lower stomach.

“I think… I think I might..” you groaned, your lips parted.

“What?” Prince Jacaerys said, his breath hot on your ear as he kept fucking you with his fingers. “Are you going to come, Lady Frey?”

“Y-yes, my Prince.”

“Call me by my given name and I’ll let you.”

He pressed onto your pearl with his thumb and you swore you saw black for second before you came, a moan of his name on your tongue.

“Incredible,” he whispered, pulling his hand away to tug on his cock that had been rutting against your backside, leaving a smear of his precum on your skin.

“This might be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

You weren’t quite sure what Prince Jacaerys was talking about when you felt the head of his cock breaching your cunt and you let out a small gasp.

It hurt at first, and you let out a small breath as he kept pushing his cock in - Gods, did it ever end?

“Gods you’re tight,” Prince Jacaerys groaned, his hands gripping your waist when he was fully sheathed inside of you. You only whimpered in reply - how would you previously think you were full when he had three fingers inside of you? This was no comparison.

You let out a laboured breath, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your temple and you shifted on your feet, letting out a surprised moan when it caused delicious friction of the Prince’s cock inside your cunt.

“Ah, you’re feeling it, don’t you,” Prince Jacaerys whispered lowly in your ear, bringing your hair to the side, so he could place wet kisses upon your back. “The pleasure coursing through you, like you have never felt before?”

Just as the words left his mouth, he started to thrust his cock into you with no abandon. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the hallway, coupled with his grunts and your moans, it was a miracle no one stumbled upon you, but even if they did, you didn’t know if you’d care enough to stop.

Your blunt nails scraped against the walls, as the Prince’s cock kept going in and out, you were starting to see walls. It wasn’t long before you could feel the warm sensation in your lower stomach forming again, this time so much more intense.

“P-please,” you whimpered, your whole body feeling like it was burning.

“Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon,” Prince Jacaerys whispered into your hair as his cock drove into you.

You were too fucked out to realize you didn’t understand him, and definitely too fucked out to ask what he had just said to you, clinging to the wall for any semblance of support as your body shook with every thrust.

“I’m almost there,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, his hand finding your pearl again as he slowed his thrusts, instead thrusting harder, finger pressing down on your pearl. “Will you finish for me, my sweets?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

The Prince only chuckled, not once pausing his movement but accelerating the circles he was drawing on your pearl, until you finally broke, a wave of pleasure washing over you so powerful it knocked you over.

“Gods, Jacaerys!” you moaned, your cunt pulsating in its wake, your eyes fluttering shut, leaning against the wall.

You were only standing because the Prince kept a steady grip on you, his cock still fucking into your wet, soppy cunt. His thrust stuttered before he gave one last, thrust, shooting his warm seed right into your hole, your cunt milking him for everything he was worth, the seed escaping from the sides, dripping down your legs as he pulled out.

With one hand, Prince Jacaerys tucked his cock back into his pants and letting your dress fall back down, his other hand holding you upright, your knees still weak.

“Can you stand?”

“I think?”

His hand was firm but gentle as he turned you around, a smirk on his lips as you looked up at him through your lashes, completely ruined. Again, he pushed the hair out of your face, almost lovingly, as if he didn’t just shoot his seed into your cunt, his seed that you could still feel trickling down your leg, beneath your dress.

“Maybe I will be back,” Prince Jacaerys said, wiping his thumb over you mouth. “Make sure you really are staying loyal to the rightful heir of the Iron Throne.”

You chuckled breathlessly, looking up at him. “House Frey would welcome you with open arms.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, slowly released your waist, before he leaned down to kiss you deeply. You sighed softly against his lips, but the kiss was over sooner than you had wished, your mouth chasing his.

“Be good, make sure your guardians keep their words or I will come for their heads.”

With those words, Prince Jacaerys left you in the dark hallway, still catching your breath. This was not how you had envisioned the Crown Prince’s visit to go.

But who were you to complain if he was so generous?

────────────

Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon = if you’re lucky i might make you mine

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: thoughts?👀

[xoxolaw]

+ DISCOVER YOUR SECRETS

in which seong-je happens to discover secrets about his school's student council president who happens to have a spotless personality.

Geum Seong-je x reader

secret 3 :- magic hand

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 final

The halls of Kanghak High always held whispers—gossip behind lockers, tension in glances, footsteps that came and went like secrets—but today, they were quiet.

Too quiet.

Y/N’s shoes clicked softly against the faded tiles of the old west wing—the part of the school time forgot. Windows were dust-filmed, lights flickered half-heartedly, and lockers stood dented like war relics from another era. Students avoided it. Rumors said it was haunted. Or worse—claimed by him.

She wasn’t superstitious.

Just… curious.

Today, her excuse was student council duties. Renovation assessments, apparently. But really, it was something else. Since that night in the cyber café, since the teasing smirk had cracked into something real—laughter, vulnerability—Seong-je had started to haunt her thoughts like a half-remembered melody.

Still, she hadn’t expected to hear humming.

Low. Tuneless. Human.

And then—laughter. Familiar. Warm in its defiance.

Her hand froze on the doorknob.

She should turn back. She didn’t.

The music room door creaked open with a sigh, and there he was—like a devil caught lounging in church.

Geum Seong-je.

Jacket slung carelessly over a chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, smoke curling from a cigarette as he leaned back across a dusty desk like it belonged to him.

He didn’t even flinch.

“President,” he drawled, one brow raised in lazy amusement. “Thought you didn’t do abandoned places. Too much dust for your spotless reputation? Or maybe you are just following me around.”

“Funny,” she said flatly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “I came here to inspect the room, not inhale secondhand smoke.”

He grinned, unfazed. “And yet here you are. In my hideout. Alone. Almost feels like fate.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away. “Fate must be bored, then.”

He took a long drag, then stubbed out the cigarette with exaggerated grace. “What, no thank-you for putting it out? Tsk. So ungrateful.”

“Try not breaking school rules for once. Might surprise even you.”

As she moved past him toward the upright piano in the corner, he watched her with the idle interest of a cat who’d spotted something fun to mess with. She pulled off the heavy cloth covering the piano, her fingers already tracing the edge of the worn wood, lingering.

“You know how to play that thing?” he asked, voice quieter now, genuine.

She hesitated.

“A little,” she said. “I used to.”

She pressed a key. Out of tune, but not dead.

She pressed another. A chord formed—fragile, uncertain.

“You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, standing now, slowly stepping closer. “Didn’t figure you for a piano girl. Always thought you'd be more of a silent-meditation, sword-wielding general type.”

“That… sounds like a weird compliment.”

“It is,” he said with a crooked smile. “Weirdly hot.”

She turned to glare at him, but her lips betrayed her—curving into a reluctant smirk. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re not denying it.”

She scooted over on the bench. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Sit. I’ll teach you something. Since you’re so easily impressed.”

He blinked. “Wow. Am I dreaming? Is this my redemption arc?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

Seong-je slid into the spot beside her, knees brushing. He didn’t bother hiding how close he sat—his shoulder practically against hers, breath warm against her cheek.

“Try not to set the piano on fire,” she muttered.

“Try not to fall in love,” he whispered.

She gave him a look so sharp it could've sliced through the keys. He laughed softly, unbothered.

“Okay,” she said, ignoring the way her heartbeat betrayed her, “start with this note. Then this one.”

He followed, clumsy at first. His fingers were rough, too forceful. He cursed when he hit a wrong key. Then laughed when he hit three more.

“You’re hopeless,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he replied, tapping the wrong note again on purpose.

She swatted his hand lightly. “Focus.”

“I am focused. On your hands. They’re... elegant.” He leaned in. “You hide a lot, don’t you?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I—what’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out slowly, almost reverently, and brushed a strand of hair away from her face—his fingers ghosting across her cheek. Right where, weeks ago, she'd cried in a dark alleyway.

“I’ve seen pieces of you that no one else gets to see,” he murmured. “You break rules when you’re angry. You swear like a gamer. And now you’re here, making music like it’s the only thing that ever made sense.”

She swallowed. “You romanticize too much.”

“You underestimate how interesting you are.”

Their eyes locked.

For a breathless second, nothing else existed—not the room, not the school, not the war of reputation and rebellion that normally defined them. Just the weight of shared silence. The kind that buzzed with every unsaid thing.

Then—Y/N stood abruptly.

“The drums,” she said, brisk. “Let’s see if they still work.”

Seong-je chuckled under his breath and followed.

She lifted the cover off the old drum set. Dust scattered like snow. She sneezed.

“Bless you, Your Majesty of Allergies.”

“Say that again and I’ll break your nose with a cymbal.”

“Hot.”

She handed him the sticks. “Go on then. Make noise. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

He grinned and banged out a wildly chaotic rhythm that somehow matched his personality. Loud, messy, no consistency—and yet, it made her laugh. Not just a polite smile. A real, startled laugh that spilled out before she could stop it.

His eyes lit up. “That’s a sound I want to hear more often.”

She shook her head, cheeks burning.

“Don’t read into it.”

“Too late.”

They tried every dusty instrument after that. She played a melancholy tune on a barely-functional violin, and Seong-je watched her like she was unraveling in front of him—soft and raw in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked quietly when she lowered the bow.

Her fingers tightened on the neck of the violin. “Life got too loud.”

He nodded, slower this time. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“You’re the loudest silence I’ve ever met.”

She looked at him, confused.

“You don’t shout,” he said. “You don’t throw punches. But somehow, you’re the only one who ever made me feel like I wasn’t untouchable.”

Something fragile passed between them. Like porcelain, like the pause before a kiss.

“I used to come here to disappear,” he added. “But today… when you walked in…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Why didn’t you leave?”

He gave her a smile—smaller this time. Almost real.

“Guess I didn’t want to.”

The world outside kept moving. But inside that dusty music room, time hung suspended. They sat side by side again, this time closer, almost touching.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice low. “You ever think about how strange this is?”

“What is?”

“You and me. Right here. Like this.”

Her eyes met his. “Maybe.”

He leaned in, just enough. “Wanna make it stranger?”

Her breath caught.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because the silence said enough.

---

They stayed until the light outside turned to liquid gold and shadows stretched long across the floor. When they finally stepped into the corridor again, it felt like stepping back into a world that had forgotten them for a while.

Seong-je lingered by the door after Y/N stepped out, the fading sun casting gold across the dusty floor. The room had gone quiet again, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence he used to crave. It felt… emptier now.

He looked at the piano bench they’d shared, at the spot where her knee had brushed his, where her fingers had guided his clumsy ones across the keys. Her laughter, her soft sighs of irritation, even the awkward stillness when he’d touched her cheek—every moment was branded somewhere behind his ribs now.

Damn it.

He pressed his tongue to his cheek and shook his head, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. This was supposed to be his hideout. His escape. No rules, no eyes watching, no expectations. Just noise, smoke, and space to breathe.

But she had walked in—and somehow, without meaning to, she’d changed the air.

He exhaled slowly, flicking ash into the tray he’d left behind. Her presence had been like pressing a piano key that hadn’t been touched in years—dusty, slightly off-tune, but still humming with something alive underneath.

And the way she looked at him before she walked away…

Like she’d almost heard the same note.

He finally stepped into the hallway, catching up to her with that lazy swagger that always got him what he wanted—or at least made people think he didn’t care.

But he did.

Too much, maybe.

She turned slightly when he pulled at a strand of her hair, that surprised blink of hers etching itself into his memory like a favorite line of music.

“Next time you decide to explore hidden rooms… take me with you.”

“Why?” she asked, cautious as ever.

The grin that tugged at his mouth was reflex, but what sat behind it wasn’t a joke.

“Because I want to discover more sides of you.”

And this time, she didn’t argue. She didn’t roll her eyes or call him annoying. She just looked at him—really looked.

That was dangerous.

He could feel it in the way his pulse picked up. In the way he couldn’t quite wipe the smirk off his face, even as they walked side by side toward the late afternoon light. She didn’t tell him to go away. She didn’t outpace him.

She stayed.

And for a guy like him, that was a bigger deal than he’d ever admit.

As they turned the corner and the music room faded behind them, Seong-je glanced sideways. Y/N was staring ahead, unreadable as always—but he caught it.

The tiniest smile.

And just like that, the static between them didn’t feel dangerous anymore.

It felt electric.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

Hope you enjoyed this part as well <33

[eiralunaire]

The scent of flowers mingled with the warm breeze of the royal garden, a sweet and subtle perfume that permeated the air with its deceptive tranquility. Damian Wayne stood a few steps away from the princess, his posture straight as a stone wall, observing every corner with a calculating gaze. His senses were alert; even in such an idyllic space, danger was never entirely absent.

“Damian,” the princess’s voice interrupted his vigil, as soft as silk, but with the assurance of someone who did not accept “no” for an answer.

Damian did not answer immediately, but he turned his head slightly in her direction. He knew what would come next.

“Kneel,” she requested, holding a small white flower between her delicate fingers.

He suppressed a sigh. It was not an order. The princess rarely gave him orders, but her requests were impossible to refuse. Not out of obligation, but because she… was her.

Without a word, Damian dropped to one knee in the grass, bending his head just enough for her to reach his hair. He felt the princess's fingers brushing back a few stray locks, gently placing the flower among the dark strands.

It was a childish gesture, a childhood prank she refused to let go of. And yet, Damian didn't stop it. He couldn't.

The warm brush of lips on the top of his head took him by surprise, as always. Brief, light… but enough to make his heart skip an uneasy beat in his chest. He mustn't react. He mustn't allow himself to feel anything at such a simple touch.

He was no ordinary man, nor did he have the right to yearn for things beyond his duty. His life was devoted to the protection of the princess, his loyalty unwavering, his existence reduced to being her guardian.

And yet, as the princess walked away with a satisfied smile, Damian reached up to her hair, barely brushing the small flower that now rested among her locks.

Damian stood up with the same precision with which he would draw his sword: without hesitation, without hesitation. The princess had already returned to her flower gathering, moving through the bushes and vines with a natural grace, as if the world around her existed only for her to explore.

He must not be distracted. He must not let his guard down. But her hand remained at his side, her fingers barely brushing the handle of his sword… and the phantom sensation of that flower in her hair.

“Why do you always have such a serious expression, Damian?” the princess asked suddenly without turning, as if she had read his thoughts.

It took him a moment to answer.

“It is my duty to be alert for any threat, Your Highness.”

She sighed and turned to him with a flower in her hand. One more.

“Even here? In our own garden, surrounded by castle walls, with guards at every corner.” Even here you worry?

Damian held her gaze. It wasn't the first time they'd talked about this, but it wouldn't be the last, either.

"Especially here," he said, with the certainty of someone who'd lived through too many betrayals.

The princess watched him for a moment longer, as if trying to find a crack in his armor. Then, with the same gentleness with which she gathered her flowers, she came closer again. Damian already knew what was coming, but he still felt a pang of something he couldn't name when she reached out and touched his hair again.

"So, if you're always so tense, I'll have to remind you that there are beautiful things even in the midst of danger," she said with a soft smile.

Damian felt the light pressure of another flower placed next to the first. And then, as if it were a sacred ritual, the brush of her lips on the top of his head.

He didn't move. He didn't speak. But something in his chest twisted, something that had nothing to do with obligation or loyalty. Something that shouldn't be there.

And yet, when the princess walked away again, he let his fingers brush through her hair once more, making sure the flowers were still there.

Just for an instant. Just to make sure.

[11cupids-tarot11]

What will Life in general be like with your Future Spouse?

Gender Neutral for Everyone!

1 -> 3 ♡

Tips are very much appreciated!! Love you guys!!♡

My Kofi (I plan to set up the rest of my services in shop soon!)

Cupid's Services

Cupid's Master-List

Hi loves! Happy 2025 🥳 I know I’m two months late and I’ve been gone for way longer than I had expected, but I’m so happy to be back!! I hope everyone’s new year is going amazing!

Pile 1- The World, King of Wands, Eight of Cups and, Strength.

Hi pile 1!

So right off the bat I feel like your person is such a character! They don't like to be bored, very adventurous and free spirited. If you're a home body I'm not sure if you'd like this about them, but if you're someone that also loves a good adventure I see you two being partners in crime! Everyday is something new really, I think even days when you're both just chilling in the house they like to make it fun, there's always laughter in y'all's home.

So I see this being during a time in life together you're both financially stable, living together and the both of you just really love to live out your days to the fullest, enjoying life together, I hear you guys will always hear complaints from your friends and family how you're never around anymore because you're always on trips lol, living with this person is almost like a whole new world almost, you'll feel like nothing's impossible.

I feel like your person is very fiery, they like to charge through life with their head held high, very outspoken and would rather be a leader than a follower, they fight back, they're so loud too, they won't be ignored. You'll always see these things about them throughout life, you'll see how they love to take charge and stand ground, how they don't like to put up with anyone's bullshit.

I feel like for fun you two will do things kinda sketchy, like my cards show a person graffitiing on the wall, you two will do things for the adrenaline rush of not getting caught but even if you get caught that adds to the fun cause you'll just run away. This person could make you feel younger than you actually are, I just see lots of giggling and mischief, things you'd probably never even thought you'd do because you're like "nah I'm too reserved of a person" but this person will make you want to branch out of your comfort zone, they'll help you through every high and every low, they'll be your strength when you have none.

I feel like if you're someone that's like me and ALWAYS bored, you'll love this person because they're like how could you ever be bored of me? Even conversations with this person are crazy and wild because I don't really think they care for a filter, they seem to not really fear anything in life lol I love their energy, they'll totally rub off on you some of their fiery ways too, they like to see you strong and in your power.

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Seven of Cups, Temperance, Nine of Cups and, Three of Swords.

Hi pile 2!!

So your future spouse and you will like to plan, I see you guys discussing everything first before you actually do it. You guys just might like feeling secure and safe, planning for the long run, but also being like "okay, so, what's for dinner tomorrow? Do I need to go to the store tomorrow morning?" That kinda energy in almost everything. You guys also like planning your alone time, you might be busy people so I see you two sitting down discussing your little get away from everyone and life temporarily.

Funny enough with the Temperance card here I think this person also likes to go with the flow, maybe this person loves days when you're both free from work or your schedule for long periods of time and can finally focus on each other.

I think during days like those your person will just love making their days about you, they feel kind of clingy and quality time is their love language tbh, they don't really care what you guys do as long as they're with you, they could just sit in silence with you. This person loves focusing on healing the both of you daily, they're really into health and fitness I think but also mental health as well, they're the type to make you a random snack when they've noticed you've skipped breakfast or haven't eaten in awhile, I think they really love taking care of themselves but you as well!

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- The World, Eight of Swords, The High Priestess, and Six of Coins.

Hi pile 3!

So starting off with The World card I have a very big feeling this is a very free flowing and creative pile! Maybe you do something creative for work, an influence online or something along the lines of that, or your future spouse could be! There’s a vibe here that you and your spouse might like to travel a lot, I feel like your life is a little less planned out, for example you guys might do lots of things out of the blue, random dates, going out shopping together but getting distracted and deciding to go out on a little dinner date at a new restaurant you two stumbled upon while shopping, that kind of unplanned/spontaneous energy.

I feel like your spouse is someone very supportive with the Eight of Swords here, I think in the future together you and your spouse will like to keep things light hearted, I’m hearing in the world we live in these days you and your spouse will try to not like this world break the two of you apart, change your character or value. You guys feel like a very positive couple, the kind to go donate to Charity, volunteer ect etc. Your spouse also likes to take of you! They’ll also be the shoulder you can cry on, they’ll want to make life easier for you too in this world we live in!

Your spouse will honor you, they’ll think and respect your home like a Kingdom, they’ll honor you and the ground you walk on, everyday! From the moment you open your eyes in bed, they’re the type to wake you up with breakfast in bed, except they’ll let you sleep in while they’ve been up for awhile cooking for you. So sweet! A real partnership💕

With the Six of Coins here I think your spouse might be wealthy or is destined for wealth, your spouse wants you to live a life with them where they can pamper you! If you want to be a stay at home parent they’ll support that (if not that’s okay too, they’ll support you working as well!) they’re just like that! They’ll support anything you do! I think this person wants to be so wealthy that they can make money in their sleep and can relax on vacation with you!

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

[cherrys-muses]

sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff. ohhg, hiiiiiii :3 💝🦋✨

(if they’re open), Can I request Emperor Geta angst ?? Like, he said the wrong thing; he really, deeply hurt Reader; and then he finds her crying in the royal gardens + he feels bad :( 🥰 (royal garden ?? idk how the roman empire works)

maybe a lighter ending? :3 but i would eat up anything u give us, queen 🙂‍���️🙂‍↕️

ohhh, love!!!! they are absolutely opened! & you’re my first request eeee - WITH geta too??? i hope this delivers for you! ᢉ𐭩 warnings; no spoilers! geta is … geta (sarcastic and mean), slightly ooc, happy-ish ending!

“You are anything but what I truly need.”

The words had bounced around in your head - the voice of the man was smooth as velvet, yet, rough around the edges just as the cobblestone your sandaled feet walks across.

Your head is held high, though your lips threaten to quiver, pulling at the corners. Inhaling roughly, gripping the silk of your dress, you will the burning behind your eyes to go away.

Entering the garden that Geta had allowed you to build, the warmth has sweat beading up a tad more along the hollow of your neck. Placing yourself onto the bench that had some cracks and edges breaking off, your hands fold in your lap.

Eyes lingering on the stone, your fingers fiddle with the golden band. You are not sure if this is what you want - yet, you have to deal with it anyway so Geta doesn’t look as if he were a fool.

If someone killing you was the only way out, you believe you would just lie there and accept the fate of a sword rather than cruel words coming from someone you truly loved, yet didn’t feel an ounce back.

“You are crying.”

Startled, you flinch at the sound of his voice, eyes lifting from your lap as you stare at him. His face is clean - a luxury to stare at, really.

The pale skin that seemed to shine - that didn’t seem as if he was dead. There’s a bit of faded black eyeliner, but his eyes are still wide as they stare at you.

“I…wasn’t aware that I was,” You are quick to look away, realizing that you have openly stared at him for a long time. Bringing a hand up, you brush away the tear. “I apologize.”

He hums as he looks away, eyes traveling up the vines that curl around a tree. “I didn’t mean what I said,” You quickly look over at him. “I have been under a lot of pressure as of late - I took it out on you,”

Geta apologizing is unheard of - a strange feeling settles in your stomach as you continue to stare at him this time.

“It should have been my brother eating those words instead of you,” He looks at you as he nods. “I am sorry.”

A small smile pulls at your lips, and though your eyes are still burning with tears and Geta’s pretty face is slightly blurry from them, you let out an airy laugh.

His brows pinch in confusion. “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m sorry,” Your fingers press over your lips now, looking away from him quickly as your heart pounds and the tips of your ears grow hot. “I am not laughing at you, Geta, my love,”

Your eyes peek over at him once again before you clear your throat. “That is one of the first times I have ever heard you apologize. To anyone.”

He stands. “Yes, well,” He clears his throat. “First and last times for everything,”

You smile and nod, dropping your hand to your lap once more as you stare up with him.

He feels sick at the look of your face - not at all in a bad way. This whole thing - you - were new to him. He doesn’t feel as if he deserves you, or even the notion of any type of love - whether that be platonic or romantic.

Holding out a slightly trembling hand to you, he clears his throat once more, hoping that would sooth any voice cracks.

“Well? Are you coming?”

Slipping your hand into his, you stand from the bench and place your hand against his cheek. He jerks his head to the side slightly before slowly allowing himself to lean into the feeling of your smooth palm.

Nudging the tip of his nose with yours and pressing a kiss to his mouth, you stare at him.

“I love you.”

The words makes his heart skip a beat and breath catch in his throat slightly as his lips part. You smile, though it doesn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s okay not to say it now,” You whisper to him in reassurance as your eyes flicker down to his lips once again before quickly looking back into his brown eyes. “I just thought you should know.”

He only nods, pulling his forehead away from yours slightly. “Well then,” He cleaned his throat. “Let’s go finished getting ready.”

Smiling sadly, you follow behind him as you always will.

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames II || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: mention of war, death and my english A/n: I'm so happy that your are liking this story! There will be more chapters, but I still have to decide how many. If you want to keep up with the story and want to get added to the taglist just ask! Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

The war was a mess. The smell of blood and death was making Eris sick. He was fighting with both his sword and his power, determined to end every Hybern's soldier that ended in front of him.

His brothers were fighting as well around him, his father too, thank the cauldron. Eris didn't know what he would have done if his father refused to fight for Prythian. Probably his plan to become the new High Lord of the Autumn Court would have seen light sooner than expected.

It was foolish to hope that maybe his father would find his end here in battle, but still it was one more motivation to stay alive and fight until the end.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something inside his chest stirred. He wondered for a moment if a soldier had managed to slice him in the ribs, but when he looked down he saw that no blade had come close to his chest.

It felt like a string was attached to his ribs, and it urged him to run toward the forest at his right. Eris grunted as he started to make his way throught the battlefield, following the invisible string that was now yelling at him to move faster.

A sense of terror fell over him as he crept closer, as he started to be afraid to know what, or who, laid at the end of that string.

He knew it before he heard you.

"Elain, run!" your voice pierced throught the forest like a fallen star in a clouded sky. He had dreamed of that voice longer than he liked to admit.

His quick eyes scanned around him, searching for any trace of you. Suddenly the smell of burned flesh hit his nose and his legs moved on their own. He had never run this faster in his life. He knew where you were, and he knew you were fighting. Alone.

As soon as he arrived he saw burning flames blinding his eyes for a moment. Then, among them, he saw you, without any armor and with what he recognized as an Illyrian blade at your side, untouched. Around you there were six Hybern's soldiers, sneering at you.

"The King want her alive!" one of them said as you tried to aim at them with your fire. "knock her off!"

It had happened so fast that Eris was still running before he could stop it. A soldier run around you and sliced your leg with his blade. Your yell of pain cracked something inside Eris as he saw your flames going out all at once while you fell on the ground.

Faebane.

Eris saw red. Two soldiers had their hands on your arms, twisting them behind your back. As soon as he was close enough his fire errupted all around him, burning completely the four Hybern's soldiers that circled you while he took his blade in his hand and looked at the two who were still holding you.

"I suggest you to leave her." Eris' voice was as cold as death. He barely register that your head snapped up and watched him surprised.

One of the soldiers snickered and held your arm thighter behind you, making you hiss in pain. "Your father should have bowed to our king when he had the chance."

"Your king should have never came here." was Eris' response before he launched himself at them. Two soldiers were no match for someone with his battles experience. He could have ended them quickly, but he inteded to make them suffer for what they were trying to do.

He took away their swords with little effort, then he gripped their neck with both his hands and watched as they screamed while his fire burned them from the inside out.

When the burned bodies of the soldiers fell down lifeless he took a moment to enjoy what he had done, and then a grunt behind him made him turn on his heels. There you were, trying to use your sword to stand up on your good leg while the other fell useless at your side.

"Let me help." Eris said towering you and offering you his hand. He saw how your eyes stared at his hand for a moment, as if deciding if spit on it or take it. "Don't worry, I won't bite you while there is still a war I need to win out there."

His ironic voice made your eyes snap in his and...cauldron boils him. As you finally decided to take his hand and let him help you to stand up Eris felt like someone punched him in the gut. He was short of breath, his sight darkened all around him until the only thing he could see was you, and only the Mother knew how beautiful you were.

Your hair had been tied in a long braid behind your head, leaving your face in full display for him to admire. Your flushed cheeks, your brown, warm eyes behind which he knew hid a deadly, beautiful power.

Mate.

You were his mate, and he was yours.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Every inch of his body yelled at him those words. He could feel his soul twisting and jumping, finally relieved to have found their other one.

Eris hadn't realized how long he had stared at you because at some point you took your hand away from his abruptly, the same hand you had seemed to lingered in his for a bit too long, and scoffed. "Don't you have a war to win?"

His brain needed a second to function normally again. You were watching him cautiously, and he realized that the bond hadn't snapped for you. No, it had snapped for him because you were in danger, but the bond had no reason to snap for you.

A feel of protectiveness grew inside him as he watched your bloody leg while you ripped a piece of your cloak and wrapped it around your injury.

"Unfortunately, I can't let a lady in distress walk alone in the middle of a battlefield." he said taking back control of himself and using his casual, mocking voice.

You looked at him with the same defiancing eyes that had him almost kneel when you had watched his father like that during the High Lords meeting.

"I'm not a lad-" your voice stopped abrutply as your eyes widened, looking around you.

"What's wrong?" he murmure quietly, a hand ready on his sword trying to sense any threat.

You just slowly looked around one more time, one of your hand closed thightly over your chest, holding your cloak close as if you were suddenly cold. "The cauldron is here." you said slowly as Eris watched you carefully. "He is watching. He is..." your eyes widened again, snapping toward a direction deeper in the forest. "Nesta!"

And then you run.

***

You ran like your life depended on it. Your eyes were completely watered, you weren't sure if it was from the pain in the leg or the dreadly sensation that the Cauldron made you feel for your sister. You barely saw what was in fron of you, some branches hit your face, some roots made you almost fall.

When you reached your sister your blood froze. The King of Hybern was standing in front of Nesta, Cassian was laying behind her with his wings broken and legs shuttered. They were fighting, but you saw that Nesta was only buying time.

You would not stand there and watch her die. You took a step toward them, ready to yell at the King and bring his attention on you, but suddenly a big hand covered you mouth, pushing you back against someone's chest.

You tried to break free from his grip but he was stronger and pushed you to the ground until you were both kneeling behind a bush.

"It's me, calm down." as the male whispered in your ear you recognized Eris' voice. His other arm was firmly around your waist, keeping you against his chest as he was kneeling right behind you.

For a moment you were confused. Why had Eris followed you? The King of Hybern was right in front of you, the smartest choice would have been to run and go back to the battlefiel with his soldier, so why was he there?

You tried to break free again from his hand on your mouth, but he only pressed it tighter. "What do you think you are doing?" He whispered almost angryly. "You are without power. You can't defeat him."

You brought both your hands on his and pulled it away from your mouth to be able to speak. "He is going to kill my sister." you whispered firmly, turning your head slightly toward him. You had to rose your eyes to met his, and he was already looking at you with an intensity you had never seen. "Let. Me. Go."

"No." Eris sneered almost angrier that you had suggested it. "I won't let you get yourself killed."

"Why do you care?" You almost said out loud, angry at him and looking back at your sister. "My sister needs-"

The words died in your throat as your eyes had shifted on Nesta again and lying few feet behind the King you saw a body. A human, male body. Dead. Lifeless.

Your father.

A pained cry escaped your mouth as Eris quickly blocked it with his hand again. Your hands grabbed his wrist, but not to take away his hand, but to hold it tighter.

Your father's neck was angled at an unnatural angle; his glassy eyes open, staring in front of him. Your father was dead.

Eris hold you tighter against his body as you realized you were shivering with sobs. Had he recognized the body? Had he made the connection? You didn't care, because he held you nevertless.

As you gribbed his wrist as your life depened on it you started to feel something grow inside you. Rage. Anger. Hatred. All of them directed to the King of Hybern who was now standing in front of Nesta and Cassian, both on the ground holding to each other, ready to die.

And you couldn't accept that.

You bite Eris' hand. His surprised and distraction enough for you to stand up and running away from him, toward the king. You were ready with your sword in your hand to kill him, but someone appeared from the shadows behind the King and stabbed a black blade in his throat.

Elain.

"Don't you touch my sister." Elain hissed in the King's ear as he fell on his knees.

You met Nesta's eyes, and with a silent nod you both put your hands on the hilt of the blade and twisted it in the King's neck.

When you turned around to search for Eris, he was already gone.

***

Feyre called the meeting in your old house, and you had prepared everything in just two days. The chairs, the benches, the pillows and everything else that could allow people to sit or stand comfortably through a meeting that surely would last many hours.

To your surprise Beron was the first to arrive. He didn't acknowledge you or Feyre, but he came; that was the important thing. And with him he brought Eris.

You had not seen him since the battle, and somehow you had felt a little disappointed. You had expected...what? That he would seek you out after the battle? He surely had more important things to do, and the farest away you stayed from him the better.

He had saved your life, sure, but it didn't change the type of person he was. The type of person that had made the Night Court hate him for five centuries.

As soon as he entered you had tried to keep your breathing normal. Eris had a brutal slice down his cheek and neck, full of bruises all over his face that made you understand he had went back fighting when he had disappeared.

Worry run through your blood as you saw in what state he was, but you told yourself you were tired, that your father death had brought you to worry for everyone else. You had tired yourself until blankness those days to help the injured, to keep your mind busy, because everytime you stopped doing something the tears came back.

And now, seeing Eris like that made you wondered why he hadn't gone to see a healer. The slice looked back, and a primal sensation grew inside you, needing to help him to heal.

As Nesta showed them where they would sit you tried to push away all those thoughts, telling yourself that you were just confused by the war. But as father and son sat down on their chairs, Eris looked briefly toward you, as he had alwayd known where you were standing, and something flickered in his eyes, Something you couldn't decifer.

You found yourself lost for a moment in those deep amber eyes, but as Mor's figure entered your peripheral view you adverted your eyes, focusing on the next people that enetered the house, giving them a warm smile and gesturing them to their seats.

When the meeting started you stood at Feyra's right, while Nesta stood at her left. Elain had decided to stay away from unwanted attention, but as the only humans who had ever been Made, the three of you stood at the center, rappresenting the perfect middle between High Fae and humans.

People shared their stories, humand and Fae alike. They shared their lives, Feyre told hers, and you had to close your eyes to not cry in front of everyone for what she had been throught. Your little sister, alone in the Fae world had died, and you had risked to lose her forever had it not been for Rhysand and the other High Lords.

You clenched your hands tight in front of you. You would not tell your story. Not yet. Not to everyone. Every choice had been taken away from you since a long time, and even if it sounded extremely selfish, your first choice would be to keep your story for yourself.

The stories you heard were all about the same. Loss and deaths. Loss and deaths in all form and ways. All of the stories might start differently, but they all ended the same. With this war. With someone dead.

And for a moment your eyes fell on Eris again, who was listening carefully every story. You could have easily been part of that stories of death. Your sister might have had to tell the story of how you had died if it hadn't been for him. He had chosen to not let it happen. You couldn't understand why, but he still had. And even if he was a horrible person, you owed him.

His eyes never met yours during the entire night, and something inside you told you he was doing it on purpose. He was avoiding your gaze.

As the meeting come to an end you felt the physical need to talk to him, and it terrified you. You had met him just twice, and talked to him once. It didn't make sense that you wanted to talk to him, but you told yourself it was because he had saved your life. Yes, that was it.

As soon as the people left the house you put the hood of your cloak on your head and followed silently, never loosing sight of the redhead few rows in front of you. You needed to find him away from his father and his brothers, or it would have been extremely awkward.

But one you were alone with him what would you do? Thank him? Ask him why he saved you? Telling him you were extremely confused because the Inner Circle always pictured him as an arrogant, selfish asshole while he had no esitated to save you and stop you from getting killed from the King of Hybern?

Fuck it, you had lost him. You had a vague idea of where the Autumn Court's camp was, but you didn't dare to walk too close to it knowing damn well that their High Lord didn't like you at all.

"Tell me, is it hard for you to stay out of trouble or you find it funny?" a deep voice said behind you making you jump. You turned around and saw Eris hid in the shadows of two tents. "You made a fool of my father at the High Lords meeting, you should stay away from his soldiers."

You took a step closer to him and lowered the hood from your head as you rose your chin looking at him cautiously. "I was looking for you."

Eris didn't hide the surprise on his face. "Why?"

Yeah, why? Your eyes fell on the ugly scar on his face. "You saved my life." You said quietly. "Let me repay the debt by curing you."

He rose an eyebrow, looking at you suspiciously. "Didn't your watch dogs warn you about what a bad guy I am?"

You rolled your eyes and let a bright flame appeared on your hand as you walked closer to him. "I can handle myself, thanks for your concern." You saw him tensing as you stepped closer and you let a sigh. "If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't do it in the middle of a war camp."

Eris' eyes locked in your with an annoyed look. "And, pray tell, how can you cure what other healers couldn't?"

You ignored how his deep voice sent shivers down ypur spine, telling yourself it was for the cold air. "My fire has healing properties. I don't think there is something that my cauldron's gift can't cure." You gestured with a finger to turn his head to one side.

"Have you ever done it before?" he asked uncertain.

You took a deep sigh feeling your patience running out. "Are you always so difficult with people who want to help you?"

"Only if they are pretty." he grinned with a wink.

A sudden need to slap him grew inside you, with something else that you carefully ignored. "Last chance to turn your head or I'll let that ugly scar leave a mark on your face for the rest of your life."

His grin grew wider but, thank the cauldron, he turned his face to one side and shut his mouth. You brought the little flame that glow in your left hand close to his scar while with your other hand grabbed his chin gently. "It won't hurt, just tickle."

He tensed under your touch, and you wondered if in five hundred years someone, beside his mother, had ever showed him kindness. You mentally slapped yourself. Those were dangerous thoughts. From the stories you had heard Eris had never showed kindness himself, so why someone should be kind to him? You were only fufilling a debt, nothing more.

Standing so close he towered you with little effort, and you almost had to go on your tip toes to reach his cheek. For a moment you wondered how many people had stood so close to the heir of Autumn and didn't get hurt, but you pushed those thoughts away.

Your flames dances around his scar for few seconds before it started to heal in front of your eyes. As soon as it was healed completely you took a quick step back, putting distance between your bodies.

"Done." you said clearing your throat.

He touched his healed skin with his fingers silently before bringing his eyes on you. "Thank you." he gave you a nod.

You nodded back politely as your mind started to gather all the reasons why you should leave and forget about him as soon as possible. The list was extremely long. "Good night, Eris."

You put your hood back on and turned on your heels, ready to leave when his voice stopped you. "My tent is at the east side of our camp. I sleep there with my soldiers and they have a strict order to not hurt anyone." You looked over your shoulder, confused by his words. "If you ever need something, come there. You'll be safe."

You didn't hide the confusion on your face, but gave him a nod and thanked him quickly before walking away in the dark.

Eris was dangerous; his encinting amber eyes were dangerous; his silky voice was dangerous; his whole body was dangerous, and not because it was lethal on a battlefield, but because it made you forget every horrible action he had ever did. Only by looking at him you had almost dreamed things that would never be possible, and it terrified you.

For the next days you never placed foot again near the Autumn's camp, and Eris never sought you out.

tag: @adventure-awaits13

[radawaycunt]

Memento Vivere

Also on AO3

Part I // Part II // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 4.1k words

Summary: Rome is in disarray. Macrinus has been trying to seize power and therefore, he decides to use you as collateral. But Lucius won't let him win so easily.

Warnings: MINORS DNI this fic is 18+, canon events with canon divergence (so, potentially spoilers), graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood and death, abduction, angst (but there's a happy ending!), reader is a courtesan (SW), fluffy smut, unprotected p in v, 69, typical roman wedding customs, some historical inaccuracies potentially, aaaand i think that’s it! But lmk if anything else.

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"Love conquers all; therefore, let us submit to love."

–Virgil.

----------

The pounding came late at night, when the moon had disappeared in preparation for the dawn. The raucous sound startled you awake from a dream you immediately forgot, leaving you dazed and slightly panicked. Prima, your chambermaid, hastily draped a cloak over your shoulders and accompanied you to the front of the house to investigate.

The iron gates seemed to shake from the sheer power of the knocking, as if a battering ram was being used. The courtyard was shadowed except for a few small torches and in that moment, you couldn’t help but believe anything could be lurking in the darkness. Gallus, who guarded the entrance, motioned with one hand for you and Prima to stay where you were.

Fear curdled icily in your stomach and you clutched Prima’s arm as Gallus undid the giant latch that held the gates closed. He partially opened one of them, but as soon as he did, a trio of brawny men barreled inside.

One of them, quick as a flash, drew his sword and drove it into Gallus’ chest. He let out a gurgling sound and collapsed, immediately dead. Prima screamed, but you were frozen in shock, a sob clogging in your throat. The other two men started to menacingly make their way towards you, quickly closing the distance.

You shoved Prima back towards the hallway, stepping in front of her protectively.

“Run,” you urged her. “Save yourself!”

She hesitated for a moment, but then her self-preservation instincts took over and she darted into the darkness of the house. Luckily, none of them pursued her, but they weren’t there for her, after all. 

The two men reached you, each clutching one of your arms and dragging you to the entrance. Your heart was pounding like a war drum in your chest, everything coming into sharper focus as adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask who they were or where they were taking you, too afraid they might become more aggressive.

Outside the gate, there were a few more men holding torches, all of them surrounding a man on a pale horse. The rider removed the hood of his cloak and it was none other than Macrinus, Lucius’ master.

“A little bird has told me that one of my gladiators holds you in high regard,” he said by way of greeting, his smile a thin veneer of friendliness. “My champion, as you might recall…”

You dipped your chin in assent, knowing it was futile to lie. His men were restless as if waiting for an excuse to intervene, and you wouldn’t give it to them if you could help it.

“Well, as it happens, I am now in need of some help keeping him in check,” he said, his words less like an invitation and more of a command. “If you would be so kind as to come with us.”

You swallowed hard, nodding once more. “I-if I may ask… Where are we going?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that.” He waved off the question dismissively. “You’ll be perfectly safe in my care.”

You hesitated for a moment before inclining your head, trying to seem polite despite the tremor in your voice. “Of course, I–thank you.”

He held out his heavily ringed hand for you to take and swiftly pulled you onto his horse in front of him. You cast one last fretful glance back at your house as if to commit it to memory. What if you never returned?

No, you couldn’t think like that. You’d do whatever it took to see things through and come out alive on the other side. You could play the game… Whatever it was. But if Lucius was on the line, what exactly was expected of you? 

“Hold on tightly, now,” Macrinus said close to your ear, making your skin crawl. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

He spurred his horse into a wild gallop, the darkened streets of Rome blurring together as they flew past you. The sun was just beginning to rise in the horizon, slowly bleeding crimson and gold.

It could be no coincidence that just the day before, General Acacius had been executed by the Praetorian guard after Lucius had chosen to grant him mercy. You couldn’t be sure what either of them was planning, but Lucius had to be enough of a threat to warrant some collateral. Perhaps Macrinus even thought you might have some idea of what his next move would be.

Anxiousness knotted in your chest as you stared straight ahead. Perhaps if you played your part well enough, you might not just save yourself, but you might also help Lucius, too. All that was left to do was wait.

—-----------------

Outside, the Roman populace was rioting. The fires throughout the city had doubled after the fate of Queen Lucilla was announced. It was no surprise, given their adoration for her and the former General Acasius. That was working in her and Lucius’ favor, but it was also working in Macrinus’s, if things went according to his plans. Things were in a rather precarious position in Rome. Emperor Geta was already dead, and nobody was too keen on the idea of Caracalla having sole power. 

Lucius and his mother met a few days prior to form a plan to defeat Macrinus, and they relied on the element of surprise. Lucius hadn’t summoned you in some time, wanting to keep you away from danger, but he had still tried to send you a couple of messages with Ravi. Much to his dismay, though, he had received no response. He feared that you might be angry at him, but it wasn’t until Viggo boasted about your capture, taunting him, that he found out the truth.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lucius drove his sword into the face of the man who had tried so hard to break him on the training grounds. He could endure his attempts to humiliate him, the sharp bite of the whip tearing open his back, and the leering grins at his suffering. But he could not bear the thought of him laying a single hand on you. 

And still, even after killing him, his rage was not quelled. It would carry him through the rest of the day, like a purifying, righteous flame. 

His fellow gladiators disposed of the rest of their captors, and now they waited to enact Lucius’ plan. He stalked out on the sand, approaching the sacrificial altar where his mother and the senators who had conspired with her were tied. Senator Gracchus was among them, his hunched form and frightened expression like a dagger piercing your heart. Queen Lucilla, for her part, kept her chin raised high, a serenely dignified expression on her face. She would not go down afraid in the face of her enemies.

Lucius looked to the Emperor’s box and momentarily halted in his steps as he spotted you. Beside you, Macrinus smiled, wide and cruel. He had deliberately kept you hidden until that moment, when he knew it would be an irresistible distraction to Lucius. You tried to shake your head imperceptibly, but you knew it’d be impossible for him to see at such a great distance. 

A scream threatened to crawl up your throat, but you stayed perfectly still, your expression neutral. You could betray nothing in that moment, or it might cost you both everything. Fortuna, I beg you, bless him with your favor once more…

Lucius’ rage was incandescent, blazing through him like sunlight itself. Everything else seemed to disappear and he became like the edge of a well-honed blade – the vision of the god Apollo. He raised his sword and pointed it directly at Macrinus – both a promise and a threat. Only one of them would still live by the end of the day.

The master of ceremonies announced what the games would consist of – Lucius would be the sole fighter to defend his mother and the senators from the Praetorian guard. They rode into the arena at the sound of trumpets, the thunderous noise of horses' hooves pounding on the sand reverberating through you. Your vision went dark for a moment and you thought you might faint, but then you felt an arm slip around your shoulders.

“I want you to watch closely now,” Macrinus said, voice low and close to your ear. “This is what happens to those who go against my will.”

You watched as the soldiers circled closer and closer. An archer among them loosed an arrow that pierced through Senator Gracchus’ throat, blood spurting from his mouth like a gruesome fountain. You whimpered, feeling like air had been punched out of your lungs. Tears rapidly welled in your eyes as your patron fell to his knees, dead within seconds. Macrinus’ grip on your shoulders tightened, gripping your chin with his free hand when you tried to glance away. 

At his throne, Emperor Caracalla clapped excitedly over the first death of the spectacle. His pet monkey climbed onto his shoulders, chittering anxiously at all the commotion. With one last menacing look, Macrinus let go of your shoulders and stepped behind the throne to get a better look. Beneath your cloak, your fingers brushed over the small knife you’d stolen from the kitchen at Macrinus’ estate. You sent another prayer to Nemesis, goddess of revenge, so that your hand wouldn’t falter if you were forced to use it.

In the arena, Lucius jumped onto the platform where his mother stood and let out a fierce roar, raising his sword in the air. His battle cry was echoed by the dozens of gladiators that suddenly flooded the arena, immediately engaging the soldiers in a fierce melee. 

Mayhem ensued as the crowd grew wild and rapidly uncontrollable. The people surged forward like a tempestuous tide, fighting back against the Praetorian guards who were meant to keep things under control. Macrinus saw his opportunity in the chaos and slipped a needle-like knife into Caracalla’s ear, killing him. His monkey leaped away, terrified, and lost itself in the commotion.

You stumbled backward, aghast, as Macrinus took the bow of the guard nearest him and fired down into the arena. Unthinking, you unsheathed the knife for protection and fled while he was still turned away. You heard his furious scream and his pounding footsteps in pursuit of you, but soon you were met with the angry Roman mob. 

You glanced over your shoulder, weighing your options, and decided your chances were better if you lost yourself in the crowd. You fought your way through, not letting anything or anyone stop you. Your heart was racing and your breaths were coming out in harsh pants, but no one really paid attention to you. You were jostled and thrown about, but that seemed to be the worst of it.

Macrinus gave up pursuit rather quickly, instead stealing a horse and fleeing towards Ostia, where he would meet his fate. As for Lucius, you had faith in his strength, in the fury that drove him forward. The best thing you could do was find somewhere to hide, at least until things settled down some. He could not have any more distractions now, in the most crucial moment.

And so, you ran.

—-------------------------------------

Countless hours later, after defeating Macrinus in a duel where the fate of Rome was at stake, Lucius revealed his true identity, his grandfather’s ring back on his finger. But he did not stay long to revel in his victory, instead riding back into the city at breakneck speed. He searched the busy streets for you with the desperation of a man who had already lost everything, but was not willing to go through it again. The rage was dissipating into panic, but he wouldn’t let himself succumb to it. 

You were praying in a small temple of Fortuna when you heard his hoarse voice calling out your name, the sound growing closer. You threw off your hood and dashed into the street, seeing him in the near distance atop his horse, frantically looking about. Relief at seeing him alive, though bruised and bloodied, flooded through you. You could almost fall to your knees in gratitude, a great weight lifting off your shoulders.

“Lucius!” You called out, waving your arms above your head so he may spot you. “Lucius, over here!”

Finally, he saw you, his expression nearly crumbling with relief. People moved out of the way to let him through, curiously taking in the scene. By the time he reached you, you noticed your face was wet with tears, but you were unable to stop smiling. He let out a breathy laugh, overjoyed, and pulled you onto his horse. He caught you halfway and kissed you deeply, not stopping even as you murmured thank you, thank you, thank you against his lips like a prayer. 

Then he seemed to remember where you were, with dozens surrounding you, and he knew he had to get you out of there. He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, barely able to believe his immense fortune. He mentally thanked anyone who might be listening for bringing you back to his side, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I told you you’d be the first one I’d run to,” he said, helping you settle in front of him. “We must go, the streets are not safe yet.”

You nodded, pressing closer to him. You didn’t even need to ask where he was taking you, for you would go with him anywhere. To the ends of the earth and beyond, until you were just two shades in Hades, indistinguishable from one another.

He spurred his horse, navigating it up the road and away from the more condensed areas of the city. Soon the cloying smell of smoke and the constant shouting disappeared behind you like a distant nightmare. The clean mountain air revitalized you, finally making you feel a little more at ease. We really did it. We made it through.

When you reached the outskirts of the forest near a cliffside, he finally stopped. The view was breathtaking, the sunset seeming to stretch on infinitely, painting the entire sky in swaths of orange and pink. It was quiet except for a soft breeze, with no one around for miles to intrude in your little pocket of paradise. He dismounted first, but you jumped into his arms before he could help you down, practically tackling him to the ground. 

He laughed and you kissed him, letting him roll you onto your back on the bed of grass. Hands roamed over each other’s bodies with a certain urgency, ascertaining your solidity. You arched against him and he clutched you to him as if his life depended on it, moving to kiss your face and neck.

“I should have known,” he said, his anger self-directed. “I should have done more to keep you safe, I-”

“No use dwelling on what could have been when I am here now, safe in your arms.” You caressed his hair gently, trying to soothe him.

“But what if you weren’t?” he said, stopping to look at you. “I would never forgive myself for it. I would have followed you immediately.”

“Lucius, please…” you tried to protest, but he turned his face to kiss your palm, laying it against his cheek. “The threat is gone. You have defeated Macrinus. There is nothing to fear.”

For a moment, there was torment written on his features, like a long-buried memory had come to haunt him. His eyes scanned your face, searching for comfort in your loveliness — the delicate curve of your cupid’s bow, the slope of your nose, the fan of your lashes against your cheekbones when you blinked. Your gentle gaze, especially, and those soft lips that curved in a smile whenever he was around. He could never grow tired of looking at you.

For the first time in a long, long time, he could see a future ahead of him, waiting with open arms. Without you, it was just not there, and that was why he was still so distressed. He couldn’t fathom being separated from you and he had been foolish not to realize it sooner. He had been stubborn about his feelings, thinking it was better to keep you at arm’s length just to save you. And all for what?

“What is it?” You prompted, gently smoothing out his frown with your fingers, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

You immediately sat up, making him pull back with you. You opened and closed your mouth, shocked beyond words. For a moment, you even thought you had imagined him asking that. His eyebrows raised slightly, nervous but expectant. 

“Marry you,” You repeated breathlessly, blinking at him. “You want to make an honest woman out of me, is that it?”

“Not just that.” He chuckled. “But an Emperor’s wife, too.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He showed you his ring, which featured the profile of Marcus Aurelius, his grandfather. Every last piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place then, but it would take some more time for it to fully sink in. You stared at the ring, completely awestruck, and bent your head to kiss it as if by reflex.

“Lucius, I… Is this what you really want?” You asked, not letting go of his hand. “I am just not sure that I’m, you know…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word worthy, but he caught your meaning anyway. His fingers squeezed yours reassuringly, making you look into his eyes. 

“I have never been more certain of anything,” he said. “I would argue you are deserving of better than me. I am not a man without faults, or history, as you well know.”

You shook your head as if he was foolish to worry about such things. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any faults or regrets of your own. You’d already had enough sleepless nights being tormented by them, as you knew he had been. No person had nothing they wouldn’t like to be forgiven for.

“Well, you are plenty enough for me,” you said softly. “Faults and all.”

“As are you,” he said, returning the gesture of worship and respect by kissing your hand. “I want nothing more. I need nothing more. Just you.”

 “Then it is no question, really.” You smiled, on the brink of tears again. “I will happily marry you, Lucius Verus Aurelius.”

Finally, the dark cloud lifted from his expression, and his smile was even more beautiful than the sunset coming to an end behind him. Now it was him who tackled you back onto the ground and you thought he might devour you, his lips intent on not leaving one inch of your skin unkissed.

—-------------------------------------

The ceremony was kept small and intimate, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was an auspicious June day, warm and pleasant, with no clouds in the sky. The air was perfumed with the smell of fresh cut flowers, as there were dozens of arrangements set up all around. Fountains babbled in the gardens, accompanying the echo of your excited voices.

As was custom, Lucius chased you around the halls of the palace in a mock kidnapping. You could not stop laughing, exhilarated, a thrill dancing down your spine any time you looked over your shoulder to see him giving chase. When he finally caught you, he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to a lectus that overlooked the gardens. 

Your veil and wreath came off first as he laid you down on the plush cushions, hair fanning out over them. You helped each other out of your clothes, eager to have nothing between you. When Lucius’ toga was off, you admired his body, running your hands over the hard planes of his stomach and up to his chest. 

He cupped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his greedily. The slide of his warm skin against yours was heavenly, only making you want more and more of him, forever. It was still surreal that what had so recently become a dream of yours was now a reality. You would always thank Fortuna for that.

But that made you remember something you’d been wanting to bring up, except there had not been any opportunity before. You hoped it wouldn’t ruin the moment, but it could wait no longer. 

“Lucius?” You said between kisses.

“Yes, my love?”

You pulled back to look him in the eye, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“Um,” you began nervously, swallowing hard. “I know what our duties are but… Would it be so terrible to enjoy our marriage by ourselves just a little while longer?”

He caught your meaning immediately, nodding reassuringly as he placed his palm on the small of your back.

“I am in no rush if you are not,” he said without hesitation, not minding the idea one bit. 

He’d been having similar thoughts about it for the past couple of days, anyway, and he was glad you’d been the one to bring it up. You smiled at him gratefully, sighing with relief. His eyes dropped to your lips once more, their lure nearly irresistible. 

“My wife is a greedy little thing, wanting to keep me all to herself.”

You chuckled salaciously as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, watching as you teasingly bit his thumb, licking the pad of it. He let out a breathy groan and you pushed him onto his back, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his chest. His hips jerked as your lips passed his navel, and with the flat of your tongue, you teased the velvety underside of his hard cock.

You heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by him sighing your name. You continued to tease and lick him, making him whimper, his eyes pleading for more when you looked into them. You took him into your mouth and his head tipped back in pleasure, exposing the column of his throat. 

“Come here,” he rasped deliriously. “I need to taste you, too.”

You complied with no protest, only extricating yourself to reposition. You swung a leg over his head to straddle his face, leaning your body forward so you could take his cock in your mouth once more. His tongue lapped at your inner thigh, which was glistening with your arousal. You shuddered, moaning around him. 

You pushed your hips back as he traced the tip of his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. The tips of your fingers brushed his sac as you sucked on the sensitive tip of his cock, and he felt as if he might go wild at that moment. 

His fingers, in turn, dipped into your cunt, preparing you for him. It became like a game, trying to get the other to come first. He won first, but he wasn’t far behind, and he marveled at the fact that you swallowed every drop. From then on, things were a lot more frenzied.

Hours passed without either of you noticing. There were only a few breaks in between, but otherwise, you and Lucius explored every possible position on and around the couch. It was perhaps the longest wedding night in history, with nothing to hold you back any longer. Except for maybe physical exhaustion, which set in when the sun was beginning to rise on a new dawn.

The two of you lay naked, holding each other close, while you watched the sky lighten. The morning was ripe with possibility, Rome feeling like an entirely different realm. Fear had reigned for so long that peace was still a new luxury, but not one you took for granted.

At that moment, before the day really started and you both had to face your new responsibilities, all you wanted was to commit the first moments of your marriage to memory. The matching rings on your interlocked fingers, the adoring look in Lucius’ heavy-lidded eyes, and the mutual promise to take care of each other for the rest of your days. 

“Get some rest, my love,” you murmured, caressing his face. “You’ll need your strength.”

“I shall only sleep if I’ll see you in my dreams,” he murmured, trying to sound playful, but his eyes were already closed.

You chuckled, kissing his forehead. “And when you wake up, you’ll see it wasn’t a dream after all.”

--------

Finis.

[kdyq]

Let me teach you baby

Context: Ambessa teaches you how to fight.

Ambessa x Fem!reader

The training courtyard was alive with the hum of insects and the faint rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. Ambessa stood in the center her arms crossed and her gaze locked on you. Unlike the sword fighting lessons you’d expected today was about raw combat the kind Ambessa herself had perfected over a lifetime.

“Hand to hand combat is personal” Ambessa said her deep voice steady. “It’s about power precision and control. Forget elegance. Forget weapons. Your body is your weapon.”

You took a deep breath flexing your fingers. “So… we’re just going to hit each other?”

Ambessa’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Not each other. You’ll hit me and I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like an unfair fight.”

“It is,” she said simply. “But you’ll learn.”

The first thing Ambessa had you do was practice your stance.

“You’re too stiff.” she observed, circling you like a predator stalking prey. Her golden eyes flicked to your feet. “Spread your stance. Center your weight. If you can’t balance you can’t fight.”

You adjusted planting your feet as she instructed. “Like this?”

“Better” she said stepping closer. Without warning she shoved your shoulder hard making you stumble. “But not good enough.”

“Hey!” you protested regaining your footing.

She shrugged. “A real opponent won’t wait for you to get comfortable. Again.”

You sighed but tried again this time bracing yourself. When Ambessa pushed you again you held your ground.

“There” she said a hint of approval in her tone. “Now you’re ready to throw a punch.”

“Keep your fists up” Ambessa instructed demonstrating the proper form. Her movements were fluid and so smooth. Her fists raised just high enough to guard her face while leaving room to strike. “Like this. Protect your head and stay loose. You’re not a statue you’re a predator.”

You mimicked her stance your fists feeling awkward and heavy. “I don’t feel like a predator” you admitted.

Ambessa smirked. “Not yet. But you will.”

She motioned for you to throw a punch. You hesitated then swung your fist toward her. Ambessa caught your wrist midswing her grip firm but not painful.

“Too slow” she said. “You’re telegraphing your moves. Watch my eyes. Anticipate my next move before you make yours.”

“That’s easy for you to say” you muttered pulling your hand back. “You’ve been doing this forever.”

Ambessa chuckled. “True. But I didn’t start out perfect. I had to learn just like you.”

Her words gave you a spark of determination. You shifted your weight focused on her stance and tried again. This time your punch was faster and though Ambessa blocked it her expression shifted ever so slightly.

“Better” she said nodding. “But you can still hit harder.”

The session continued with Ambessa teaching you how to dodge block and counter. Each time she corrected you her tone was firm but never harsh. She pushed you to your limits but there was a quiet encouragement in her gaze that kept you going.

By the time the sun began to set, you were drenched in sweat your muscles aching. Ambessa handed you a towel her expression softened by a rare smile.

“You did well today” she said her deep voice warm. “You’ve got more strength than you realize.”

You wiped your face managing a tired grin. “You’re just saying that because I didn’t pass out.”

Ambessa laughed in a low rich sound that made your exhaustion feel worth it. “No I’m saying it because it’s true. But don’t get cocky. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

“Does that mean we’re doing this again tomorrow?” you asked half dreading the answer.

She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours as she took the towel back. “Every day until you can hold your own”she said her tone serious. “I don’t train people halfway.”

You looked up at her feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thanks, Ambessa. For taking the time to do this.”

Her gaze softened and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not just about training. It’s about making sure you’re ready for anything. And I’ll always make time for you.”

As the two of you left the training grounds together, the ache in your body was tempered by the growing bond between you and Ambessa. She wasn’t just teaching you how to fight she was teaching you how to find strength in yourself.

And for that you couldn’t thank her enough.

“THE END”

AN/ That mini series is taking me a while but here’s something I always wanted to write about.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @witchywannabe3263 @ironenemycollective

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Tw: tension

Part 5

Words of Command - Part 6

The common kitchen in Stark Tower is wide and open, all clean marble counters, gleaming stainless steel, and a ceiling so high your laughter echoes off it. Early sunlight streams through the wide windows, golden and rich, the sky outside feathered in soft clouds.

You’ve taken over the space—apron tied around your waist, a smudge of flour across your cheek, and your favorite mixing bowl in your arms. You hum along to the music playing from the speaker, something catchy, bouncing through the room.

Sam is perched on the counter, tossing a grape up and catching it with his mouth.

Clint lounges backward in one of the bar stools, a mug of coffee in one hand, watching the chaos with a grin.

Natasha sits cross-legged on the kitchen island, absently slicing apples while watching you with something like amusement.

Steve is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and relaxed, soaking in the nostalgia of a time when kitchens like this held wartime hope and pie crusts.

You’re giggling, trying to pour vanilla without spilling it when Thor bursts in.

Thor, in all his thunderous, golden-haired glory, strides in holding a large bag of sugar like it’s a weapon. “Lady of sweetness! I have brought the… dust! That which makes the confections rise, yes?”

You blink. “…Sugar?”

He beams. “Yes!”

He dumps it onto the counter. The bag explodes slightly.

You yelp and laugh as a cloud of white puffs into the air. Thor looks momentarily concerned, then breaks into hearty laughter. “We are off to a rousing start, little one!”

You’re trying to teach Thor how to fold batter, but he stirs like he’s summoning a storm, splattering mix across your apron.

You squeal and swat his arm.

The radio switches songs. A classic—one from the 40s. The kind of tune that would’ve played from a diner jukebox, scratchy and alive with memory.

You begin to sway a little to the rhythm. Absentminded, soft. Humming.

Thor catches your rhythm and spins you suddenly—clumsy but careful, his hand a broad support under yours.

Your laugh bubbles out again—light and natural.

The door to your room creaks.

Bucky—no, Soldat—emerges, barefoot but still clothed in the same clothes from the day before, now wrinkled. He’s half-shadow, half man, pausing in the hall with narrowed eyes as he listens.

Music. Laughter.

He doesn’t understand the pull in his chest.

His head tilts slightly.

Brooklyn laces the furrow in his brow.

He knows this song. Not the lyrics. Not the memory. Just... the feel.

He follows the sound.

The moment he steps into the kitchen, the air shifts.

Everyone goes quiet, instinctively aware. Thor, still holding the mixing spoon like a sword, looks over with surprise.

Natasha’s eyes flick up—calculating, but calm.

Steve stands a little straighter.

You spot him, instantly, eyes bright with something soft. “Soldat.”

His gaze locks onto you.

Focus returns. The fog tightens. Everyone else blurs. You are the anchor.

He walks slowly into the room—silent but deliberate, every step echoing. He doesn’t acknowledge the others. Doesn’t glance at them.

Just you.

“Doll?,” he says simply.

You smile, small and kind. “You’re up.”

He nods once.

“…You were dancing.” His voice isn’t curious. It’s just a statement.

You nod.

“I was teaching Thor how to bake.”

Bucky glances at Thor, who raises his batter-covered hands and grins. “The Lady is a fine teacher, my new friend!”

Bucky’s jaw clenches subtly.

You catch it.

“Do you want to help?”

There’s a pause.

He doesn’t say yes.

But he steps closer.

That’s enough.

You pass him the bowl.

Bucky holds it like it might break.

You guide his hands. “Here. Slow. Gentle.”

His body responds better to orders than suggestions. He mirrors your movements. His metal arm remains stiff and unused, hovering.

Your small hand rests lightly on his human forearm.

“There you go, Soldat.”

He exhales through his nose. Not quite a sigh.

Behind you, Clint whispers to Sam, “This is like watching a bear learn ballet.” Nat kicks his shin.

When the batch goes into the oven, you wipe your floury hands on your apron and offer him a dish towel. He blinks at it, then uses it like you did.

Tiny progress.

Bucky stands behind you as you lean forward to check the oven. Watching.

“Smells sweet,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

You glance up.

Your voice is quiet, laced with warmth. “It’s supposed to.”

He nods slowly.

The kitchen remains warm and full of lingering scents—baked sugar, cinnamon, the crisp edge of toasted flour. One tray of muffins rests cooling on a wire rack while another still rises golden behind the glass of the oven.

Sam and Clint are arguing about whether or not Thor’s batter-slinging counts as “assault with a kitchen utensil”. Nat looks unimpressed, perched like a cat on the counter’s edge.

Steve is still leaning in the archway, arms folded, but his gaze isn’t casual. It’s on Bucky.

Watching.

Waiting.

You’re wiping a streak of frosting off the edge of a bowl when the next song comes onto the speaker.

It’s old. Real old.

Soft piano. Light snare. A woman's velvet voice, the kind that sounds like it could soothe a storm.

“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see…”

Thor turns toward you like a golden retriever with a crown. “Another one of your mortal songs! Come, we shall dance again!” He extends both flour-dusted hands toward you.

You glance over your shoulder.

Bucky’s standing exactly where you left him. Still, shoulders square, head slightly tilted like he’s listening to something inside the song.

That neutral mask is back—brows furrowed, lips set tight, unreadable.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Thor…”

Your voice draws Bucky's eyes.

Not his head. Not his body. Just his eyes—a shift beneath the surface, sharp and precise.

You’re used to it by now he doesn’t react well to loud surprises or sudden movements.

He focuses.

The song continues, gently building.

“Someone to watch over me…”

You turn back to Thor with a soft smile. “Maybe later.”

Thor raises an eyebrow. “You fear I will spin you into the fridge again?”

A tiny laugh escapes you. “Maybe.”

Behind you, Bucky blinks—slowly. His jaw loosens slightly, just a fraction.

“I know this,” he murmurs.

Everyone freezes.

It’s quiet. Not stunned silence, but that charged stillness when everyone’s afraid to move in case something precious shatters.

You turn fully toward him.

“Soldat?”

He doesn’t look at you yet. His eyes are somewhere else, pulled into the melody like it’s hooked him through the ribs.

“…This song. It was… on a… record player.” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “Room had… yellow curtains. Big windows. A fan spinning slow. I… I was sittin’. Legs out. Had a—” He frowns. Brow tightens. “—a bruise. On my knee. From a fall. Someone was hummin’…”

He trails off.

The moment hangs, trembling.

You step toward him. Slowly. Quietly.

Socks sliding gently on the tile. When you reach him, you look up—he towers over you, but you don’t shrink back.

Your voice is soft. Careful. “Do you remember who was humming?”

He shakes his head once. It’s almost a flinch. “No. Just… hands. They put a bandaid on it. Said I shouldn’t run inside.”

His hand twitches.

You don’t reach out—not yet. But you nod gently, guiding him with the rhythm of your presence.

“Sounds like a good memory.”

He swallows. Adam’s apple bobbing once.

“Don’t know if it’s real.”

Your voice doesn't falter. “Even if it isn’t, it’s yours.”

Finally—his eyes find you.

“Doll.”

That’s all he says.

But he says it like a lifeline.

Behind you, Steve shifts, voice warm but subdued. “That song used to play on jukeboxes back in Brooklyn. Think you and I heard it a hundred times in diners after late nights.”

Bucky doesn’t react to him.

But he does keep looking at you.

You offer him a smile. It’s small, sincere. “Want me to turn it off?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Leave it.”

His voice sounds different now. Still heavy, but… less robotic. More man.

You nod.

And then—slowly—you reach out.

You don’t touch him. Not quite. You let your fingers hover over his flesh hand, palm-up, like an invitation.

He looks at it. Then at you.

Then—his fingers curl into yours.

Gently.

Carefully.

Like the song in his chest might disappear if he moves too fast.

The elevator doors hiss open.

You didn’t think much of it at first. People came and went in the tower all the time. It was a place of chaos, innovation, and the occasional alien.

But then you saw them.

Black combat uniforms. Matching gear. Earpieces. Boots moving in perfect sync.

Six men. Identical emblems on their shoulders.

STRIKE.

And suddenly… the room wasn’t warm anymore.

“Stay where you are.” One of the agents held up a hand. His voice was clipped, official. “This is a retrieval order. Designated asset—Winter Soldier—is to be taken into secure custody immediately.”

Your blood went cold.

Steve stepped forward. “The hell you are.”

The man didn’t flinch. “Orders come from the top, Cap”

You were already moving. Your legs shaky, your voice thin but rising. “He’s not an asset. He’s a person.”

You turn and plant yourself between them and Bucky—who had risen the moment they entered, body tense, eyes narrowed, not like a man afraid, but like a predator calculating.

You felt his presence behind you, that heavy silence you were learning to read. His hand hadn’t even twitched, but you could tell it was close.

“JARVIS,” you said, without looking away from the men, “alert Mr. Stark. Now.”

“Right away, Miss.”

The lead agent’s tone sharpened. “Move aside, ma’am. You’re a civilian.”

“I don’t care what I am,” you snapped. Your voice shook, but you didn’t step back. “You’re not taking him.”

From behind you, his voice was low. Calm. That unsettling stillness of a trained weapon waiting for a green light.

“Doll…”

You didn’t turn. You couldn’t—you were afraid if you looked at him, they’d see the softness in your face and take it as weakness.

“...You want me to drop ‘em?”

The Brooklyn rasp was undeniable now. Bucky Barnes’ voice, shaped by decades and sharpened by pain.

You could order him. You knew he would listen. That terrifying reality sank like a stone in your stomach.

“No, Soldat” you said, forcing steady breath through your chest. “Not unless they touch you.”

The air crackled.

The STRIKE men tensed. Guns stayed holstered, but the fingers on their triggers said they were one flinch away from escalation.

Clint had drawn an arrow without you even seeing him move. Natasha was already beside the window, calculating exits. Sam muttered, “Bad idea, fellas.”

Steve stepped forward again, jaw tight. “You know who that is. You know he’s not a threat here.”

“He’s unstable,” the agent said flatly. “You want to risk a incident ?”

“He’s healing,” you hissed, finally losing the softness. “And you’re trying to tear that away before he has a chance.”

Another agent stepped forward.

Big mistake.

Bucky was there in an instant, the metal arm outstretched to block you from them, eyes darkened to gunmetal grey. His whole frame radiated threat.

The agent froze mid-step.

Bucky didn’t blink. “Touch her,” he said, low and deadly, “and I break you.”

No shout. No warning shot. Just fact.

The way he positioned himself—just ahead of you, feet braced, body angled to protect without trapping—was instinctive. Calculated.

Not as some Soldier.

Not fully.

You pressed your hand to Bucky’s flesh forearm gently. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop his guard either.

You turned to the agents again, standing taller despite your size. “He’s not leaving this tower without a fight. And if he does… I go with him.”

The lead agent looked at you like you were insane. “You’re just some civilian, step asid—”

“He’s mine to protect.”

The words surprised even you. Not because they weren’t true—but because you hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

Behind you, you felt Bucky breathe in. A long, slow inhale that felt like a boundary shifting.

The agents exchanged glances, clearly unsettled. Seconds later, JARVIS chimed back in.

“Miss, Mr. Stark is en route. ETA thirty seconds. I suggest these gentlemen reevaluate their survival instincts.”

The tension in the kitchen could be snapped with a breath.

The STRIKE agents were still half-positioned in front of you and Bucky. Their expressions were sharp, poised, but increasingly uncertain. Clint hadn’t lowered his bow.

That he pulled from god only knows where.

Natasha was eyeing their flank, calculating at least five different ways to kill them all. Steve stood at your shoulder, barely resisting the urge to punch someone through a wall.

Then—

DING.

The elevator opened like curtain call.

Tony Stark stepped out, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, sarcasm already loaded like live ammunition.

“Well, well, look at this charming little hostage situation. We having a bake sale, or did I miss the part where government stooges now raid my private tower without asking?”

His tone was light, but the edge beneath it was diamond-sharp.

You felt Bucky shift behind you again, metal fingers twitching in small, reflexive movements. He was still tense, unreadable to most—but you could see the microexpressions. The slight drop of his shoulders. The faintest breath exhaled. He knew you weren’t alone anymore.

The lead STRIKE agent straightened. “Mr. Stark. Our orders—”

“Oh no, I love this part,” Tony interrupted smoothly, strolling toward you with casual arrogance. “You barge in like a low-budget SWAT team, threaten my very adorable receptionist—hi, Sunshine,” he nodded to you mid-sentence, like this wasn’t life and death, “and expect me to just roll out the red carpet for an armed extraction in my own damn house?”

You gave him a look somewhere between mortified and deeply grateful.

“Sir, this is a classified retrieval.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony slurped his coffee obnoxiously. “Here’s another classified fact, you’re all about five seconds from being escorted out by a literal army of sentient vacuum cleaners with plasma beams. JARVIS?”

“Ready to deploy, sir. With enthusiasm.”

The STRIKE agent hesitated.

Tony dropped the act for a moment. His voice dropped an octave. Flat. Cold.

“You don’t get to take what isn’t yours. And he—” Tony’s eyes flicked to Bucky, “—doesn’t belong to you.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. His stance was still guarded, but he leaned subtly toward you.

“Doll…” he said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “…who the hell is he ?”

“Tony, is” you murmured softly, almost amused through the adrenaline. “My boss ... also a friend”

Bucky made a noncommittal grunt and rolled his shoulder. He didn’t look convinced.

He didn’t know Tony. Didn’t care about Tony. But you said he was a friend—and that was enough for now.

He stood like a wall at your back, that unmistakable air of restrained violence. His body language screamed don’t test me, but the only person he actually looked at was you.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” Tony said, switching gears. “He stays. She stays. You all leave. If your higher-ups have a problem with that, tell them to call me—though I might be unavailable, what with the lawsuits I’m about to file for trespassing, unauthorized operation, intimidation, and—you guessed it—traumatizing my receptionist.”

“You’re not authorized to shelter an unstable asset—”

“He’s not an asset,” you snapped, voice rising for the first time since the confrontation began. “He’s a human being.”

You startled yourself with how fierce you sounded. Tony turned toward you, raising a brow like he was genuinely impressed.

“Oh, that’s new,” he muttered. “Look at you, getting all Warrior Princess.”

The agents finally, slowly, backed down.

They filed into the elevator with stiff, silent precision. No one said goodbye.