#and also how to blend my own tea

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Day 225, and a subtle update tonight! I made some adjustments to the shading on the metal, and then added shading on the... uh... the whatever-that-is. The grey part. Look, I don't know what I was drawing, I just drew it! XD

[keyotos]

loved you every single day

summary ⎯ what is love for the xianzhou guys? that's basically it. very sappy and tender and sentimental.

includes ⎯ dan heng, blade, jing yuan

tana's words ⎯ hi...

dan heng

⎯ dan heng had a vague understanding of what love felt like. before the astral express, he never really knew what love really felt like due to memory loss. but he learned, eventually.

⎯ he found love when himiko always offered to make another coffee cup for him (this time, with the blend he enjoys). he found love whenever march/stelle would check on him during the late hours of the night, knowing he'd be buried in books. he found love whenever welt offered to shoulder the burdens of keeping watch during trailblazing missions.

⎯ but he has never felt love like this before. not with you anyway.

⎯ there was a sense of loyalty he had for you. of course, he was obviously also loyal to the crew, but it was different with you.

⎯ you made him want to follow you towards the end of the universe. you made him want to run with you into the light or whatever awaits the both of you later on. he was willing to do all of it.

⎯ why? a lame question to ask, he thinks. there are hundreds of reasons why, and he could list them easily. was your smile and the way it instantly warmed an entire room enough reason? or should he add onto the fact that you were practically made of stardust and cosmic radiance? that you have some kind of miraculous or even transcendental ability to string words so brilliantly that it manages to calm the harshest of voices down?

⎯ and love was scary for dan heng, at first. there were too many hindrances and difficulties in his life. for one, he could not let you get caught up in his past. he wouldn't: he would make sure of it. for two, he wasn't very used to love.

⎯ yeah, there was the express crew. but there was also you. dan heng thought that he would spend the rest of his life alone. he still has not settled into his room on the express because he reasoned that he'd stay until the archives until he was ready to leave. but you challenged all of that.

⎯ how is it that one person could make him want to stay by their side forever? how is it that you have such an enormous effect on him, yet you aren't even aware of it? every wall or barrier he's put up, you've always managed to erode it down. you allowed him to be vulnerable and you allowed him to be carefree. you allowed him to relax. to breathe.

⎯ loving you, was to breathe, for dan heng. you were the gasp of air that he needed while he was drowning beneath the waters. finally being able to decompress and unwind; he felt lighter around you. less stressed, less worried. less stoic. less somber.

⎯ he has never even thought of love like that before he had met you. but you changed him. and he is eternally grateful for that. eternally grateful for you. you are his home, his safe space, his sanctuary of security.

⎯ so he repays you often. he knows what kind of tea you drink and how to make it by heart. he makes a cup for you every morning. you have your own shelf in his archive. hell, you have your own damn space in there as well. there's an indent of you in every corner of every room.

⎯ or maybe, dan heng is so accustomed to you that he sees you in everything.

⎯ he lets you read from his shoulder. he has a shelf filled with all your favorite books from various worlds in his archives. he lets you sleep on his body rather than the flacid mattress on the ground, because he wants to keep you as comfortable as you've kept him. his fingers trace your body every night you stay with him, to ensure that you are safe and you are here, and he is home.

"are you sure you're comfortable like this?" you ask, situated on top of dan heng's body. you're partly afraid that you'll crush him with your entire body weight on him, and that his back would hurt after tonight, "wouldn't it just be smarter to crash in my room instead?"

his chest rises and falls underneath you, getting slower and slower as time goes by, "if you'd like. we can go."

you bite the inside of your lip in thought. it would be safer to do so, for both your and dan heng's safety. but, to be honest, you were very comfortable and tired. "is your back gonna be okay after this?"

"it'll be fine," he brushes off, "besides, you've been sleeping on me for the past few nights now. i can handle one more night."

"huh???"

blade (contains lore spoilers)

⎯ love was something blade has always lived without. as a child, with war and battles as a constant on his homeworld, there wasn't any room for affection or anything similar.

⎯ but then you came along, practically shaking his entire world. there you were, dragging him off to drink god awful mung bean soda. to force him to go outside on days where he was over-occupied with work. to let him enjoy something for once in a while. to let him rub his thumb over yours in the quiet hours of the night, forgetting about work and all other duties.

⎯ he had never thought that loving could be so easy until he met you. it seemed as though time would stop in his tracks whenever he saw you. blade thought it was a myth coming from romance novels (one he had heard from you, ironically enough), but it proved to be, in fact, real.

⎯ and everything was easy. up until everything wasn't. it was one thing, then the other. baiheng passed, jingliu was extremely distraught. it was wearying to see everything go so downhill, so fast. nobody was ever the same after that period.

⎯ yet even after all that, you still had the same look in your eye. you looked at blade the same way you looked at him all those years ago. so much has changed between the both of you, and you know that the both of you would never be able to return to the past.

⎯ though, even after all of that, some things remained the same. for example, the way you never failed to take his breath away. seeing you for the first time in years had him going through a plethora of feelings: distraught, appalled, and slightly less dejected.

⎯ but most importantly, there were still parts of the other's heart still beating for each other. even if you couldn't love him anymore, you still cared about him. you cared about him the same way you did all those years ago.

⎯ you went out of your way to find him. you went out of your way to offer him solace, even if it was for one last time. why? he didn't want to know, he didn't want to ask. he has a mission: he has to pursue it, always. nevertheless, he still found himself underneath the sun's rays, as it managed to follow him wherever, saying, "i'm here. even if you don't see me sometimes, i am still here."

⎯ and if you still cared... well, there was still hope, right?

he's leaning over a rail, looking over the xianzhou skies and the starskiffs racing by. he hasn't been back in ages. it feels... strange; it feels as if he's experiencing his first day all over again.

blade is so fascinated by the sight that he fails to hear your footsteps come closer, now reaching his side. he only hears you after you clear your throat. he's startled, for obvious reasons: but, when he sees you hold up a mung bean soda in surrender, he's surprised at how fast the panic dies down.

"aren't you going to arrest me?" he took a step back from you. you didn't move, but instead held out the drink.

"i could," you dragged out, checking your watch, "but... i'm not on duty," the corners of your lips turn up ever so slightly, like you were happy at the fact that you were having a drink with a criminal. you pull open the tab and take a sip, then offer it towards him.

he blankly stares at your hand. remembers the feeling of it in his. now, his mind is skewed. maybe even grotesque if he wanted to sound dreadful about it. but there are few happy memories he can recall, as well as the feelings during them, and it seems like you are recreating one of them currently. and oddly enough, there are no feelings of bitterness that follow him this time.

he takes and drinks the mung bean soda, and to his surprise, it’s not as bad as it was many years ago. maybe it was because your lips were on it, or maybe it’s because the once atrocious drink did get better. and when he looks up and is greeted by your curious face, he hopes that love is like that as well.

jing yuan

⎯ years ago, if you had asked jing yuan what love was, he'd say something benign: love is indescribable. a simple answer for a simple man in love. but oh, has time took its toll.

⎯ it isn't to say that love isn't indescribable. on some days, he finds it worrying that he may love you too much⎯that his willingness to give you the world was a bit concerning at times. others point it out, but jing yuan chooses to be blindsided. but he is always aware.

⎯ aware. jing yuan is nothing short of perceptive. he has been around for centuries. he has been there for wars, for battles, for decrees. and it sticks with him: forever. he does not simply forget, yet he is forced to stay in one place forever. immorality may be a blessing for others, but a curse for xianzhou natives.

⎯ he does not give himself a moment to fully relax. even if it seems that way a lot (the dozing general needs his power naps), he is always back to his duties.

⎯ however, it's different with you. with you, he has no burdens to shoulder. he has no secrets to keep from you. there is no wall of tension blocking between you. with you, everything is for grabs. his feelings, his emotions, his heart.

⎯ vulnerability. many look down at the vulnerable. and in jing yuan's line of work, the cost of vulnerability comes with a substantial price. his guard has to be up at all costs, because if not, there would be another catastrophe. his act as a lazy general is just a rouse, because there is so much that's weighing on him inside.

⎯ in a city that flies, jing yuan feels rooted by the weight of the luofu.

⎯ so imagine the amount of unconcern he feels when he's around you. the feeling of rocks suffocating him has subsided, and you are here to remove them. and one by one, he begins to feel lighter and lighter as you hull them off.

⎯ and you don't get tired. you're still here. you keep picking off the rocks, even the smallest ones. you relentlessly continue until everything is gone, and the only things left are just you and him.

⎯ by now, he understands what love is. it's when he knows how your fingers have ran through every crevice of his brain, every knot in his stomach, every knot in his soul. it's understanding. it's being able to shoulder the weight of the world with another. it's someone staying to help you get the rocks off of your body.

⎯ love is being met with soft touches instead of daggers. love is being met with mhms and reallys while retelling a story from this morning. love is being able to speak about the past, the truth of it all, and allowing the light to peek through instead of the darkness. that is what love is.

"and then, get this, i found him in the midst of a fight with blade," jing yuan throws his head on your shoulder exasperatedly, disregarding the fact that you were halfway through your novel.

"well, he was doing his job," you counter, looking back towards your lover.

"i know," he slides a hand across his face, "it's just tiring. and i don't want him to get hurt." like others, is the unspoken phrase here. it's on the tip of his tongue, you know it.

you place a bookmark in your book before shutting it. you finally turn your full attention towards jing yuan, "he's strong. you trained him."

"but," he sighs, "what if it's not enough?"

you decide the mood is a little too melancholic, so you decide to lighten the mood a little bit, "then i'll take over as general of the luofu," you grinned. jing yuan smiled as well: your smile was infectious, how could he not?

you ran a hand through his hair, "you are good enough. i hope you know that. you won't fail yanqing. he's tough and stubborn... he sadly gets that from you."

jing yuan chuckles, a real chuckle, and pulls you closer to him as you grab your book once again. he presses a chaste kiss to your temple as he reads along to the same words on a page as you.

yes, things will be okay, he thinks.

hi y'all! i have been sooo busy w sm stuff lately, like i've been preparing for college and i've been going to the gym and i've been doing sm. updates have been scarce except like the 3 alhaitham posts (i couldn't resist). but hopefully during these last few weeks of summer i can get my grind back on!!!

[snailsrneat]

Yandere Vil Schoenheit Headcanons

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking, Posioning

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

I think if anyone got literally any of the overblot boys as their yandere they'd be pretty fucked.

Mostly because the overblot boys hold a lot of power and have tons of magic.

Vil, specifically, however is one of the few who won't ever use his magic on you.

No instead he'll just use potions on you (:

When you two first met, it wasn't exactly love first sight, more like first word.

Cause when he saw you, he wasn't impressed.

'This is the prefect everyone's been so obsessed over? Really?'

He honestly thought that you'd be more impressive, more magnificent and elegant if you will.

His first impression of you however immediately changed when you had begun barking orders at fellow freshman in an attempt to defeat him.

Never once has he seen a freshman, one as weak you, calling the shots amongst the student body.

Something must be different with you. And he had to figure out what.

From then onward he recruits Rook to spy on you and learn what your day-to-day patterns are like.

In the process Rook also listens in and learns all your secrets. All of which he reports to Vil.

The Vil learns about you the more he falls in love with you.

He obsesses over every single detail of you, from little moles in unseen places to the formation of stress wrinkles crowding over your forehead.

Every minute detail that he can find, he wants pepper with kisses and tell you just how weak in the knees you make him.

A part if him feels silly for getting weak for someone as mediocre as you, but the other half of him wants to steal you away and lock you in his bedroom so you never have to be troubled by those horrible boys you call "Friends".

In fact...that's a fantastic idea! Why hasn't he thought of this before? That way he can watch you up close.

No longer will he need Rook to do all his stalking, not when you're already here and so close.

When he kidnaps you he does it under the guise of you try a new tea blend he was given. But, unfortunately for you, the tea just so happens to be spiked.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry dear, I didn't think one of my own fans would try to spike my tea! Here let me help you get to the infirmary~"

He's an actor so he's very good at being melodramatic.

Instead of waking up in the infirmary, you wake up his bedroom, with your arms chained to the bed posts and dressed in expensive satin pajamas.

When Vil comes into the room and notices your struggling, he chides you for bruising you beautiful skin.

He doesn't release you from the chains, but he does his best to keep you comfortable.

"Only the best for you, darling. You shouldn't worry yourself with such needless things. What you should be thinking of is me, and only me. Understand?"

If you ever try to escape, don't.

I'm warning you, if Vil catches you trying to escape it'll be worse than just staying chained to his bed all day.

It's even more terrible if you've been getting "closer" with him recently, because now he knows that he shouldn't trust you fully. Ever.

If he catches you, he'll no longer allow you to be comfortable.

Instead of that nice comfortable bed, you sleep in a dog cage in the corner of his room.

And the days have started to blur together now, he started poisoning your food to make sure you don't do anything.

Most days your too tired to anything, let alone fight back or come up with escape plans.

If he has to start treating you like a baby he doesn't mind, he likes making you depend entirely on him.

"You know you did this to yourself, right? Trying to escape was a foolish endeavor and you must face the consequences of your actions..aw, you're crying darling. Don't cry, it'll give you wrinkles. Don't worry my love, this hurts me more than it hurts you. Now drink this."

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

[blue-jisungs]

JASMINE

author's note. this is so cliche i’m so sorry .. also tysm @slytherinshua for the banner<333

summary. just bf hao adoring his gf:(

word count. 720

before you minghao had this tendency to sit in silence, alone in his room and do his hobbies. completely shut off from the world, silence or soft jazz music filling his apartment; just him and his reading, painting, tea brewing or mediating. he enjoyed enjoying his hobbies alone. 

minghao loves, adores art. it’s no secret. he always has and probably will, even when he’s wrinkly and old. and he considers himself a lucky for that, and for you. because you are art itself. 

which is why, with time he realized that he could combine two things he loves together. 

as cocky as he can get, minghao felt a little shy and preferred to only sketch you at first. he bought a special sketchbook, grainy and yellowish sheets ready to be filled with various doodles of (mostly) you. 

while you slept, did your assignments, cooked or watered plants. minghao could just stare and you in all those mundane moments, finding endless inspiration. but nothing more than that: your figure was engraved in the depth of his sketchbook, for now. 

sometimes he’d hide behind closed doors, sinking in his own world. when your relationship was still fairly fresh, you were nervous to disturb him. but with time it changed, as he progressively left his door open and hinted on having you with him. 

just like today. 

rain drumming a steady rhythm on the window, pleasantly blending with the sounds of jazz in the room. warm light shone on minghao’s painfully white canvas. 

he was tapping his finger against the brush, hands resting on his thighs. the smell of vanilla candles and fresh laundry filled his senses as he spaced out, observing the raindrops rolling down the glass. 

there was will to paint but no inspiration. 

letting out a deep sigh, as if that was going to change something, he closed his eyes. 

then, he heard soft paddled sound of your footsteps. a smile subconsciously bloomed on his face and then the sound became clearer. 

he peeked an eye open and saw your figure standing in the doorframe. you grinned upon the cute sight and then stepped closer to put the small tray on a wooden stool next to him, careful not to spill his paint water. 

the delicious smell of jasmine tea hit his nostrils and then he observed you grab one of the cut up fruits. 

“how’s it going?” you asked tenderly and tapped his chin. minghao opened his mouth and let you feed him, the sweet taste of his favorite snack melting on his tongue. 

“quite fruitless” he snickered and you snorted at the pun. then you glanced at the blank canvas. 

his gaze lingered on you and minghao put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer ever so gently. “i could paint your beauty… that’s if… you know, let me”

as your lips fell agape and blush creeped on your cheeks, you were too speechless to respond. 

he smiled softly and rubbed his thumbs on your skin. 

“yeah, okay. if you want!” you grinned, noticing how his face lit up “do you want me to pose or something?”

“no, you can just… be, you know? keep me company” minghao hummed and you leaned closer, placing a kiss on his forehead. 

“understood. let me just grab my book then, mr painter” you announced and left, trying to tone down your excitement.

sitting on top of the world

just cue

missing a puzzle i swear it’s you 

while your boyfriend painted you, basking in the gentle yellow light as you read, the rain started to ease out. time passed by slowly but in a pleasant manner, you two occasionally exchanging glances. 

you were curious about the paining, especially when you noticed he mostly used two colors. 

the lecture in your hands began to get boring which caused your eyes to slowly drop. minghao noticed this and his heart squeezed upon the cute sight. 

by the time he was done, you dozed off in the armchair. 

he stood up and stretched, admiring his artwork.

then, he walked up to his muse and wrapped a warm blanket around your resting figure. 

you know i can paint the world

sitting there in black and gold

you’re the perfect chemical

i gotta test i gotta know

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

[milunalupin]

hi!! I would like to request older!reader and older!sirius black where reader ends up saving him from bellatrix’s curse.

ty for requesting !! enjoyyy <3 + ty to my lovie for helping :)

— another one bites the dust (but it's definitely not sirius)

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1.5k words

Lily Evans was your best friend. The two of you had been sorted into Gryffindor as muggleborn witches together and assigned the same dorm. The two of you did everything together, from studying in the library to braiding each others hair down by the Black Lake. Of course being that close meant you had to witness all of James Potter's attempts at winning your best friend over. One time you happened to alone on your way to class when James and the other 'Marauders' had stopped you, begging you for any tips on how to successfully ask Lily out.

"You've gotta let this go. She's way out of your league, you toerag." You had rolled your eyes at him, the boy gaping at your remark as you had always seemed pretty docile. Sirius Black — who you now notice was standing beside the bespectacled boy — barked out a laugh and applauded you, causing a warm feeling in your chest that you would never admit was because of him. Moreover, if James ever asked him to, Sirius wouldn't mind hanging out with you to get information on Lily (and not because he thought you were super cute).

Once James had successfully convinced Lily to date him, you and her had blended in well with the Marauders. When Lily and James would have their couple time, you would play chess with Peter and study with Remus in the common room. Sirius even let you join in on planning and performing their famous pranks (which did not jumpstart a crush on him or anything). The six of you had become your own little family, and when James had proposed to Lily after graduation it was no surprise who the groomsmen and maid of honor would be.

Meanwhile you had also fallen in love with Sirius Black during your time at Hogwarts, and the two of you had become attached at the hip. Sirius would walk with you to class, and you'd spend nights in the astronomy tower talking about the future.

You were each other's safe space, and Sirius loved you so deeply, which led to a lot of heartbreak the the night Lily and James were killed and your boyfriend was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life for being the one who did it. You spent the next twelve years working under the Department of Magical Law enforcement as an investigator, trying to convince the Ministry that Sirius would never in a million years do anything to hurt his friend, much less kill him and his wife. They ignored you, dismissing your claims as a fit of hysteria, weaponizing your grief against you. You had been nonstop trying to figure out what exactly happened that night, regularly exchanging letters with Remus until he sent his final one, asking you to refrain from sending any more, as he felt too betrayed by Sirius to hear any of your theories.

The moment Peter had been revealed as the true murderer, Remus had come by your flat to apologize in person, the two of you reconciling over tea and teary hugs. When Sirius finally came back things were slow to return to "normal", but the two of you were just as in love with each other as you were back at Hogwarts. Because of his current situation with the Ministry, you moved in with him at 12 Grimmauld Place, then agreeing immediately when Dumbledore had come to the two of you about reassembling the Order of the Phoenix.

"You're a cheater Sirius Black, I don't want to play anymore." You huffed, standing up and throwing the playing cards down on the coffee table. The two of you were playing cards on the couch in Grimmauld place, trying to have a relaxing night amidst the recent chaos. Sirius cooed and pulled you down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder. "Oh you'll survive, Mrs. Black."

The name alone caused you to melt into him, but the way he was looking at you in that moment made you feel like a teenager again, shy and in love with the boy before you. "Mrs. Black? We're not even engaged, love."

He grabbed your left hand, his thumb running over your ring finger, his voice becoming as soft as his touch. "It's coming, darling, don't you worry."

Your future mother-in-law screeched in horror from her place on the wall. "The most ancient and noble House of Black will not be accepting of a revolting mudblood! Must keep the blood pure, toujous pur!"

"I like to think I've been patient enough." you teased, gesturing to where his mother's portrait hung, the crazy bitch still muttering nonsense to herself.

Sirius sighed and lightly squeezed your hip. "I know m'love, you've been too good to me. Once things blow over a bit, I promise we'll get back to how things used to be, yeah?"

You hummed, brushing the hair out of his face and kissing his forehead. "No need to rush, we've got the rest of our lives, Sirius."

The fireplace suddenly lights up green as Severus comes through, his lip curling on one side as he saw the position you two were in and moved his gaze to somewhere else in the room.

"Severus," Sirius clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side. "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"The Dark Lord," his eyes met yours, then shifted to settle on Sirius. "seems to have put an idea in Mr. Potter's head that you were being tortured at the Ministry. He's on his way there to look for you, you are to alert the Order."

You and Sirius stood immediately, thanking Severus as he disappeared again and sending your patronus' to the other Order members. They arrive quickly and the six of you head to the Ministry and apparate down to the lower level chambers, wands at the ready.

Kingsley and Alastor moved towards one group of Death Eaters, with Remus and Tonks on the defense. "Harry, where's Harry?" you were frantic looking for your godson, Sirius right beside you. You find him in combat with Dolohov, rushing to his side just as he hit the dark wizard with a Full Body Bind curse.

"Nice one, Haz!" Sirius praised from a few feet away. Harry beamed at you and you smiled and squeezed his shoulder quickly before heading back over to Sirius.

The chamber was complete chaos, the dark walls lighting up with flashes of all colors, all kinds of hexes and jinxes were being thrown around. You had to admit, Harry and the other students were great at duelling and really kept up with the Order members. Out of the corner of your eye you see your beloved's deranged cousin, her wand locked onto Sirius. Her wand glowed green as she shouted out an unforgivable spell.

You turn around to see him just a few feet from the Veil. "Sirius!" you gasp, immediately casting 'Accio' to pull him out of Bellatrix's way, his hands gripping your waist to steady himself, eyes blown out in shock. You both are staring at each other, eyes watery and chests heaving.

"Too fucking good to me, darling."

Your moment was interrupted by a screeching Bellatrix, sending a 'Confringo' your way. You managed to dodge it but the spell caught the sleeve of Sirius' coat.

"Don't you fucking dare!" you growled, shooting multiple stunning spells at her which she annoyingly kept deflecting. She laughed maniacally as you circled each other, casting spells left and right. The dark witch then shot another spell at Sirius, effectively hitting him in the back then grinning madly at you, "Whoopsie!"

Your heartbeat picked up as you realized where she was standing. You quickly scanned the chamber and it seemed that most of the Death Eaters had fled or been taken down. You'd never killed anyone before, but she was one of Voldemort's strongest followers. Not only that, but she tried to attack your Sirius not just once, not twice, but three times. Your eyes widened as you saw her prepare another curse on him.

"Not my boyfriend, you bitch!"

You cast 'Depulso', throwing her back a few feet into the Veil, immediately sending her into the world of the dead. You stood there frozen, your wand still pointed where Bellatrix once stood. Sirius pulled you back into his arms, whispering "thank you"s and "i love you"s into your ear.

Harry had appeared next as the battle ended, joining in your group hug, the three of you holding each other tight. You kissed the top of your godson's head, no longer unable to hold back your tears.

Harry had come home with you and Sirius that night, having some dinner and then going upstairs to stay in one of the spare rooms. Sirius held you close in bed that night, thanking you once again for saving him. You smiled and squeezed his hand, thanking him for coming back to you all those years ago. You fell asleep that night unaware of the sparkling diamond that was hidden in Sirius' nightstand.

[thecruellestmonth]

Batfam™ posts are like

What are the BATFAM™'s favorite drinks?

Dick: sparkling hibiscus nectar infused with pistachio honey (bubbly and sweet just like him 💙) served in a World's Best Big Brother mug that was chipped in a hilarious incident when all three of his beloved siblings got into a wacky swordfight and sunshine big bro Dick had to make peace between them because he's a loving mother hen

Jason: vodka mixed with Earl Grey tea—in Crime Alley, street rats only ever drink alcohol because they're uneducated and miserable, but Jason also drinks tea because he's now elevated above his lowly origins (how quaint! He's Not Like The Other Poors) and to symbolize how much he LOVES his rich family

Tim: COFFEE!! brewed from a special blend of extra caffeinated Arabica beans, mixed with hazelnut non-dairy creamer (lactose hurts him just like everything and everyone in his life 😔) and one sugar cube for every hug he's ever gotten from his parents in his entire life (none) and also his tears

Damian: lemonade colored pink with Tim's blood (now Tim is dying of blood loss and it's all evil Damian's fault! how dare Damian be so cruel to Tim in this terrible scenario that I made up in my own head)

Babs:

Cass: water

Steph: water (with a bendy straw lol she's such a character)

Duke: water

[complete-clownery]

Okay I wont get to work on this any longer tonight so imma just post this

So this morning I have realised some stuff about my Macaque home hc

So first of all you can see the human disguised Macaque with Bai He,

and so Bai He wasnt there or "planed into the house" three days ago, but I decided that, that just wont do, I want her with Macaque, so im going to have to go back and alter my original ideas so it would fit the concept of Bai He also living there with Macaque (I have quit a lot of ideas for that, but ill get to them when I have the time)

But its not the main reason I wanted to talk about this even with half finished ideas under constructuion in my head

The big thing you already saw the random old lady and the antic Store/shop, so its no suprise im going to talk about that a for a bit,,, not a lot tho cuz I dont really got the energy for this

Soo--- She does not have a name, but Ill work on that, shes not fully thougt out, but nothing really when it comes to my ideas and headcanons (its kinda like eating halfbaked dough)

so shes 73 years old divorced lady running a little antic shop in the outer cirkles of Megapolis. I was thinking maybe it was her who originally selled the whole building to Macaque and rented the free space under the dojo.

She has a daughter and a grandkid (didn't decide on gender yet)

Shes kinda inspired by @/ladygreenfrisbee's oc in the fanfiction sunbreak, a snarky but sweet old lady whos not taking any shit from the brooding, shadow the hedgehog wannabe.

When she was younger she worked in a Museum in Megapolis, working with antient historical artifacts and megical weapons, but she pretty much knew everything about anything in there, with history and old stories being one of her passions,

Thus after she retired she decided to open and antic store. Even tho its an antic store, she can be one of those people that you bring an old piece of furniture or object in and they can tell you if its legit or not. She is also willing to trade and buy stuff from you if its to her likings. She's fair and not a con artist, she has just enough money for herself and thats completely fine by her, shes a simple woman when it comes to living.

She has a ton of degrees, Dr. And Phd tytels and what nots, extreamly smart and knows a lot about history and mytology and different eras of the past, making it easier for her and Macaque to connect over old stuff.

Also I was thinking, even tho she couldnt tell that Macaque was the Six Eared Macaque himself, she knew that they were wearing glamours, She studied artifects and worked with demons who were experts on the field of magics and glamours, she knows her shit

And even tho She had a decent relationshipp with Macaque I dont think Macaque would willingly let her see his true form, maybe after he was very exhausted, and injured after a fight they couldnt hold it up and were like-- fuck it who cares (maybe it was after the final fight with LBD) and she obviously knew who they were imidietly seeing his Six ears (that even tho he let her see one time hé continued to glamour like he would usually, only letting go of their human disguise)

So after that she would start asking him a whole lot of questions about the past and what was it like, carefully avoiding the questions involving the great sage equal to heaven, cuz she knew what happend from jttw

But yeah Macaque found it funny how a child and an old lady are looking at him with similar shimmer to their eyes as they interrogate him on the past

She loves a good tea and has her own little blends that calm the nerves and ease muscle pain and stuff like that. After She and Macaque became more friendly with eachother she gifted them some tea that helps him fall asleep better and relax. Macaque checked them for poison twice and couldnt find anything, but still wasnt willing to drink from them until he had a very fucked up breakdown yippeee ✌️

After Macaque lived there for some years they somewhat warmed up to eachother, they would hold little tea paties and talk about stuff (annoying husbands and divorce) after Bai He started living with Macaque these tea parties increased in numbers, sometimes the ladys grandchild joining in when Grandma was watching over them, maybe they get along well with Bai He, maybe they had a rocky begining to their friendshipp, but they warmed up to eachother and now are pretty good friends (maybe, ill think about it more)

BUT!!! this was it for now its already 2:40 am and im waking up at 6:40 so even tho I have more to say ill be going now

Bye thank you for reading ✌️☺️

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Rape, assault, choking, slapping, suicidal thoughts, feelings of hopelessness.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, here is the next chapter.

I wanted to preface this by saying, please be cautious with the trigger warnings, it is going to be a heavy chapter. I also wanted to say, be kind in the comment sections and what you say, there may be survivors who read your words.

If you are at all triggered, please know that you are not alone, and that you are a survivor, and there are people you can talk to and get help with.

I think we all knew that this was coming, but even still, it feels wrong to say enjoy this time. Tread carefully, and be kind to yourself <3

Chapter 74: A Crown of Thorns 

Another day went by in your chambers, time moving at an odd pace. 

Sometimes it moved speedily, at others seemingly dragging on. You did not sleep that evening, sitting on the chaise as Helaena and Lucerys stood by the fireplace, continuing to whisper together until you had grown so used to their sound, that you did not find discomfort any longer. 

It grew to be a noise that was like a breeze outside the Keep, brushing against the windows or through the corridors, or the soft crackling of the fire.

A sound that blended into the background, like the waves that would crash against the cliff-face of Dragonstone, or the soft discernible buzzing of Flea Bottom.

There.

Inevitable.

Inescapable.

Despite being in the Keep for only a few of moons, you felt as though you had been there for a lifetime. It was a strangeness that you couldn’t shake off. And an uncomfortable reminder of how much time you had lost with your family. 

Another loss to never be gained again.

Your body had begun to feel weak, lack of sleep and proper meals scraping roughly against the sinews on your bones. You forced yourself to eat a meal, watched on by the maids that morning, concern evident in their eyes. 

You finished the bread on your plate, and the entirety of the sweet star fruit one of the girls had neatly cut up for you with your own knife and fork. You had even indulged in three slices of beef, and attempted to swallow a roasted tomato. But the tomato did not go down smoothly, its wet and slimy texture causing you to gag as soon as it hit the back of your throat. 

You had drank your tea under the eyes of the maids, who had whispered words of praise as you drank it, promising that it would make you feel better and that you should be yourself in no time. That Aemond would return soon, and perhaps they could escort you on a walk through the Gardens to lift your spirits.

They were kind. They were patient, and the walls that they had guarded themselves with when you first arrived had been lowered significantly. You even felt that they had come to care for you sincerely, and not just as a part of their duties. 

You missed Saria and Aella.

The meal had definitely helped your spirits, and your body felt slightly better being given some sustenance. Yet your mind was still raw, Helaena and Lucerys had been by your bed when you had woken, their whispers peeling back layers of dwindling resolve. 

Though as you had eaten, they had left from your sight, their whispering voices still ringing in your ears.

In truth, you were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

It felt like an uphill battle. 

You would take two steps forward, and five steps back. Your mind waxing and waning through strong and brittle. Memories of the past striking fear seemingly out of nowhere at times, and storms of uncertainty racing you towards the edge of a cliff you knew there was no coming back from. 

But surely this was progress. 

The road to recovery was a long one, and although your side had healed, it still came to irritate you.

Where there was once an open wound, now sat puckered and scarred skin, still sensitive to the touch if you pressed it. Some days it would twinge, and small sparks of discomfort would rise up your ribs if you sat at an odd angle, bumped it against something, or even if one of your gowns was too tight across the new skin.

At moments like those, when your elbow would push pressure against it, or the side of the chaise would dig into it meanly, or Aemond’s hands would grasp or tease, you could feel the phantom pains of when it had once been opened. You could feel the way in which the new skin was now pulled taut by scars and ached at random.

Sometimes it even itched, and you had to gently let yourself rub the pads of your fingers, no nails, across it to soothe the irritation. 

The scar, you supposed, was similar to your mind. 

Though it had healed, there was still the presence of what had happened. There was still the pain and uncomfortability, the voices and visions, and reminders of the past whenever those corners of the mind were pressed or disturbed. 

Like your scar, if the wound was touched, even though healed, it would still offer a reaction. It would ache, or itch, or send panic rearing through you. And this was something that you hoped would heal with time. 

You just needed time.

And time was what you had, though the looming threat of Aegon did little to the scars on your psyche which were poked, and prodded, or scratched by the sharp nails of paranoia and justified rage.

You doubted the lacerations to your mind had even begun to heal, and if they had, any little progress they had made, any scabbing over, or the prospect of change had been picked away by the circumstances surrounding you. Relentless fingers pulling at the platelets that had formed over the injury, blood and memories spilling forth, setting you back to where you started from. 

The same open wound.

That evening, when the maids had come to your chambers, you had ate with little fuss, though your stomach cramped at suddenly being so full. You had nibbled at the warm bread and feasted on cooked potatoes and legumes. Even indulging in a goblet of wine, which somehow settled your nerves. 

A quick fix to a longer issue.

When you had finished your meal, the maids, who had not left the chambers as you ate, hovering about, pretending to tend to their duties, when in reality they were casting quick and short glance over their shoulders at you, readied you for bed. 

The vanity sat in front of you as one of the maids had begun to brush out your hair, combing it gently as she looked at your face in the reflection. A soft humming came from her chest as she worked, untangling your knots.

It was a tune that plucked a string of familiarity within you. A musical lilt that felt ancestral to its core, and you found that it calmed you almost immediately. 

There was something about it, something that made your brain tick.

You shifted in the green cushioned seat and looked the girl in the eyes.

“What are you humming?” You had asked, voice soft. 

The girl cleared her throat and stopped, “A daughters song, Princess.” She responded meekly.

“Would you sing it for me?”

You wished to hear it.

To feel it.

For it to drown out any whispers in the back of your head, or the corner of the room. You wished to hear it for what it was, to see if it did hold familiarity or if it was, like many things in that present moment, just in your head.

The girls hands stopped in your hair as she looked at you, before a blush spread over her cheeks. She looked down and then over her shoulder at the other maid, who had discontinued fluffing the same pillow she had been arranging for quite some time. 

Clearing her throat again, she nodded, “Yes, Princess.” And began unsteadily, as if nervous for your reaction, uncertain if she would be punished or berated. 

“Come now my daughter, come sit beside me, rolling green hills, and a mountain of flames,” She began, and you let yourself lean into her hands as she kept them threading through your hair.

“We sit one last time, two parts of the same, a curse to be born, a woman’s last name. A woman of duty, a wicked hearts game, a wife’s job is set, the children are tamed.” As she continued, you realised that you had not heard the song at all, though the melody reminded you of a memory you could not discern.

“The girls life is done, the woman’s life breathes, rise with the sun, and rest with its leave. Clipped of your wings, never to fly, a woman’s one job, is to let her man die.” The maid looked down, not meeting your eyes as her hands stilled in your locks.

As you made no move to punish her, or reprimand her, or even correct her, she continued, voice a fair bit more confident, though still soft and gentle, “We all face the fate, no woman can hide. The sins of the flesh, till the woman has died.”

You blinked sheepishly at the girl as she distracted herself with brushing your hair, not daring to look up at you.

“Why is that so familiar? Is it a Westerosi song?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace. My mother used to sing it to me.”

“It is quite dark.” You mused softly, reflecting on the song.

‘Clipped of your wings, never to fly.’

“It is a song about becoming a woman, Princess. It is not an easy road, especially for common folk. It is a song sung to us to prepare us, should we ever be married.”

You hummed in agreement, “Thank you for sharing it with me. Is your mother-“

“Gone.” She uttered, voice hoarse with emotion, “A fever when I was a child, Your Grace.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. She sounded like a wise woman to sing it to you.”

“She was.” She smiled softly at you in the reflection. 

The smaller maid came to the both of your sides as the other took her hands from your hair, “Will you be needing anything else from us, Princess?” She asked.

“No, thank you both.” You smiled at them, though it twitched from strain, “You may rest for the evening.” 

As the girls turned to leave the chamber, a crawling sense of shame and realisation washed over you. 

“What are your names?” You called across the chambers, looking at how the two girls stopped to turn and face you, not looking down at their feet, but instead directly at you.

The eldest of girls who had mousy brown hair, and deep brown eyes, bowed her head as she spoke, “Amala, Your Grace.”

The youngest whose hair was a deep blonde, skin littered in freckles followed the other, bowing her head and looked down as she introduced herself, “Joanna, Princess.”

You smiled at the both of them, a genuine smile, and repeated their names on your tongue to the chambers. 

“Apologies for not asking sooner," You apologised sheepishly, "Thank you. You may leave.” 

The girls gave another short bow and smiled at you before leaving the chambers, the orange of their robes disappearing out the chamber doors. 

You sighed, back bending on the vanity chair as you relaxed without their presence. 

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, and your eyelids grew heavy with every breath you took. Looking across the room, Helaena and Lucerys stood by the fire watching you, mouths moving, and only snake-like hissing coming out as they whispered. 

Wearily you moved, and got into bed, promising yourself that you would only rest your eyes, if only for a moment, and then you could rise again and stay vigilant. Yet resolve flew out the window as soon as your leadened limbs laid on the plush down of the bed, and the soft doona was pulled over you. 

Laying your head on the pillow, you kept your eyes on the chamber doors and waited. But the wait was longer than your body could stand, and so your lids grew too heavy to hold open and slid shut, the depths of sleep dragging you under. 

Dreams of serpents surrounded you, their glistening yellow bellies and scales of emerald green shining against the stone floors. 

Jet black eyes stared at you as the largest of snakes rose its head. 

A forked tongue flicked out. The thin, pink muscle rattling in the air around you as it watched you with beady eyes, tasting the air.

Tasting you. 

It hissed, large fangs showing as it begun to curl around your feet, winding its way higher and higher up your body, its muscles constricting you. 

And yet there was nothing you could do, and nothing that you did do but watch as it wrapped around you higher and higher, pressing your arms to your side as it hissed in your ear. Your mind screamed at you to move, but your body refused, knowing that it could not escape its fate.

Knowing what was to come. 

Making peace with its own demise.

The serpent pulled back to look you in the eyes as it curled its body around you tighter. Its scaled gums pulled back, revealing rows of needled teeth as it grinned at you.

“He is coming.” It hissed, before striking forward towards your neck.

You woke with a start, a sharp biting pain on your flesh as you felt weight atop you. 

The chambers were dark, and all you could feel was your heavy limbs that were held down by a weight atop you. You jerked, breath coming out of you in a gasp as the feeling of teeth on your neck pushed you to the surface of consciousness.

Your heart galloped in your chest, beating against your ribs.

In the dim of the chambers, the teeth relinquished your neck, head rearing up to look down at you. 

There, above you, hands holding your arms down and thighs pinning your own beneath him, sat Aegon. His teeth shone in the night as he looked at you, canines glistening predatorily as he realised you had woken. 

Fear coursed through you as you began to thrash beneath him, desperate to get out of his grip as he held you down, his short wavy hair halo’d around his face. 

“Thought you’d never wake up.” He grinned excitedly.

“Get off me.” You growled, trying to shift your legs to knee him between his.

He tutted you with his tongue, cocking his head as his hands tightened around your arms, bruising the tender flesh, “That’s not very nice.”

“Fuck you. Let me go!” You yelled into the chambers, hips bucking up as cold dread settled over you. 

Please, Gods. Not this.

“Why do you fight this?” He mocked, “Why do you try to honour my brother when he fucks Alys? He has left you here,” A sick grin crawled wider across his face, “All alone.”

“Fuck you. Get off me! Kn-“ You began to call out to the knight for help, to see if he would respond, but Aegon’s hands lifted from your arms and pushed down on your throat roughly, pushing all air from your lungs and preventing the scream which had begun.

“You think the Knight would help you?” Aegon sneered, as you thrashed beneath him, pushing at him with all your strength, “Do you think he would listen to you? I could command him to come in here and make him watch, and he would do it. Should I call him for you?” He growled, fingers tightening around your throat, the room beginning to spin. 

Please Gods, have I not given enough?

Your hands flew up to grab his, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to pry them from your neck. The muscles in your back cramped painfully as you tried to push up and away, to throw him off of you, but the Kings hands did not relent, and the world around you began to fade into black, the chambers softly floating away.

You relaxed beneath him, mind going numb as his laughter faded, hands releasing slightly. Air rushed into your lungs as you coughed and spluttered beneath him. One of his hands slid down your body to yank your chemise up from your thighs. 

Grunting you tried to wriggle away from him, one hand lifting to try and claw at his face which he batted away with ease. His hand continued to pull up the chemise as you jerked in his hold, one hand still on your throat squeezing.

No. 

Gods, please, no.

Not him. 

Anyone but him.

“You know, I think I like it when you pretend that you don’t want me. The chase makes it far more enjoyable.” He purred, wine on his breath as it fanned over you. 

Your voice was trapped in your chest.

You wished to scream at him.

To tell him to get off you.

To cry for help.

But nothing came out. 

Aegon slapped your cheek playfully with one hand as he cooed at you.

“Should have taken you as my second wife, just as Aegon the First had. You and Helaena could have been sister-wives, and I could have watched you both swell with my seed.” He smiled, as you tried to push him back.

Aegon grabbed your throat roughly, pushing down, jolting your head and holding you, grin staring down at you in the dark of the chambers. The room dimmed as you struggled to breathe, legs kicking pitifully beneath you. 

And then you were floating. 

Not there in the room. 

Not beneath him.

Not feeling anything but the pain against your throat and an odd numbness that began to surround your body. You could hear the mumbled voice of Aegon, but it felt so far away. 

So far away. 

You felt like you were fading. Drifting, and drifting, like a ship sails the sea, bobbing atop the waves as it moved through crystal waters on its way to a destination, weightless and carried by the tide. 

But you didn’t know where your destination was, and instead you were being carried, drifting in gentle waves that told you not where you were going, moving you as you faded further and further into the darkness. 

Until you lifted away.

Gone. 

A weight moved across your body and the world came back around you, ears ringing as your body was jolted. A coldness spread down you as you slowly moved through the abyss and back to the room.

There was a voice, mumbling to you. 

But you didn’t want to leave the numbness and dark you had sunk into. You wanted to stay were you were. You wanted to keep your eyes shut and bask in it.

There was no pain there.

There was no fear there.

There was nothing.

Not even you.

You were so tired. 

Why wouldn’t they let you rest?

Someone was speaking to you.

Why wouldn’t they just let you sleep?

The pull on your throat steadily brought you to the present, and feeling shot back through your body. 

There are hands on you. 

Hands all over you. 

Hands touching you and pinching you. 

A hand slapping your face roughly, snapping you back into the room. 

Your eyes opened as Aegon sat atop of you, lips moving but you couldn’t hear a word he said, your ears ringing loudly in your skull. The world tilted and confusion rolled through you.

Your throat hurt.

Why did you throat hurt?

You groaned trying to shift him off of you. 

Why was he on top of you?

Aegon kept talking down at you, and as your body slowly came to be, and feeling moved back through your mind, you felt a rough pressure against one of your breasts as he squeezed it meanly in his hand.

You tried to squirm away from his grip, mumbling as he smiled at you. 

“Get… off me.” You uttered softly, still dizzy and unsure of what was happening.

Aegon knelt half on you, half off, his knee pressed down on your stomach, as one large hand pinched painfully at your nipple, and the other moved between your thighs. You jerked in his hold, trying to get out from beneath him as a large finger forced its way inside of you.

You cried out as he thrusted his hand into you painfully, not caring for your pain or confusion. Pain rippled up from between your thighs, his fingers scratching against you dryly. 

“Fuck you’re tight.” The King growled from above. 

The world tilted, and you felt as though you were to be sick as he continued to fuck his hand into you, the other rolled a stiff nipple between his fingers. Tears began to gather in your eyes as the world caught up around you and realisation sat in.

This was it.

You could scarcely move from your spot beneath him. Every jolt of his hand stirred your head and made you nauseous, and all you could do was whimper beneath him, desperate to not throw up. You thrashed on the bed, feeling his fingers slip out of you.

The hand on your breast moved back to your throat and squeezed. The chambers grew dark, and your vision blurred as you looked at Aegon. His figure slowly disappearing as you faded away again. 

You were so tired. 

If you closed your eyes maybe this wouldn’t be happening. 

If you closed your eyes, perhaps he would not be there anymore. 

Your eyelids grew heavy and slid shut, and you felt yourself fade away from the world again, drifting away on the waves that pulled you in with its tide. 

Please let me stay here.

Everything around you was black until it wasn’t, and you were blinking your eyes awake, a sharp pain blooming across your cheek.

“Stay with me, I want you to watch.” Aegon growled, as a tear slide down your cheek and onto the pillow below. 

“Aemond.” You whimpered, head fuzzy, fear mounting within you. 

Your heart was in your throat.

Fight back.

Fight back.

Where was Aemond? 

“Aemond isn’t here to stop me this time.” He purred, “I’m going to fuck an heir into you like he should have.”

“He’ll kill you.” You slurred, tongue heavy.

Aegon laughed earnestly, “He won’t. I’m his brother, and you’re nothing but his whore.”

A sob fell from your lips as he laughed in your face. Despair settled in the pit of your stomach.

The King adjusted himself atop you, slapping away your hands as you tried to push him off of you again, kicking your legs out underneath him weakly, sheets tangling at the end of the bed, raising your head to chase his hand as you tried to bite him. 

One knee slid between your thighs and then the other, parting you open for him as you tried to pull yourself up the bed and away. Aegon wrapped his hands around your throat again and squeezed, rutting his clothed cock against you roughly, enjoying the way you cried beneath him. 

Please, let it be over.

You felt yourself begin to drift away again before he let go of your throat, your head lulling to the side as your body jerked from lack of oxygen. Your uncle jerked his pants below his ass, pulling his cock free before leaning over you. He rubbed his tip along your entrance and you felt the urge to be sick. 

It was like the dungeons. 

The feel of the stone beneath you. The dampness of the room. The darkness of the cell. 

It all came rushing back as you sobbed beneath him.

“I’m going to fuck you, the way I should’ve in that cell.” He pushed forward, rubbing himself along you as you cried and clawed at his hands, “The way I should have when you first came back to Kings Landing.”

Aegon squeezed your throat, causing dots to form in your eyes as he forced you to stare at him, jerking your head. 

“I’m going to fuck an heir into your cunt, and watch you swell with my child.” 

Across the room, the whispers of Lucerys and Helaena had quietened, and all you could hear was the heavy breathing of your uncle who began to force his way inside of you. 

Please, Gods, spare me.

You cried out in agony, sharp burning pain rippling through you as he forced himself through your folds dryly, huffing a laugh of pleasure as he pushed to his limit, seating himself inside. 

You felt yourself tear as he jolted you up the bed with his thrust, crying out in pain, splitting you open on his cock as your eyes scrunched shut. Your hands raised to claw at him again, trying to reach his face or chest, but Aegon’s hand around your neck tightened further.

This was it.

You wished you would die.

You wished he would kill you as you sobbed beneath him. 

You were so weak, too weak to fight back as he pulled back slowly, moaning as he went, looking down to where his cock speared you. There was a wetness between your thighs that you knew was blood, and you whimpered again as he slowly pushed back inside of you. 

“Fuck, your little cunt is so tight for me. Are you sure you’re not a maiden? You’re bleeding on my cock like one.” He huffed, continuing to slowly push himself back inside of you, each and every inch of his cock sending agony racing up and down your spine as your legs were forced open beneath him.

“Aemond’s probably fucking a bastard into Alys right now as I fuck one into you.” He laughed, your heart clenching in your chest as you sobbed loudly into the chambers. 

“Don’t cry,” The King cooed, thrusting harder into you, “It is an honour to have my seed inside of you.” 

You coughed beneath him as he picked up his pace, pistoning his hips into yours, your body jolting beneath him. The pain never leaving you, and a sickness settling into your stomach. 

Please let me die. 

Please let me fade away.

Please Gods, take me away from here.

“Please.” You uttered. 

Please, Mercy?

Please, Gods, help me.

Please, Aemond, return to me.

Please.

Aegon moaned as he heard you whimper, and let go of your throat, a lungful of air racing through your mouth as you gasped. Aegon fucked himself into you, the sound of his grunts and his flesh slapping against yours filled the chambers with your sobs. 

And there was nothing you could do but endure.

As you always had.

It was only a matter of time.

This was inevitable, you told yourself. 

It was always to happen. 

You could never stop it. 

Aemond could never stop it. 

The Gods had made it so. 

It was to always happen.

Your head lulled to the side as he continued to drag his cock in and out of your walls painfully, your breasts jerking beneath him as he fucked you up the bed.

You silently cried as Aegon raped you mercilessly in Aemond’s and yours bed. 

Eyes looked anywhere but him, searching to be anywhere but beneath him. To feel anything but him tearing through your walls, or the way his cock bruised your cervix.

The fireplace was blurred, and beside it, two figures watching you.

Aegon’s pace began to increase, the bed creaking as you sobbed quietly and gagged, begging in your mind. You kept your eyes on your aunt and brother. 

Please, help me brother. 

Please, aunt. 

Please.

But they did not come to help. 

Nor did they whisper. 

Instead the pair watched on from the fireplace. 

Helaena’s face full of sorrow, and Lucerys’ of rage.

A numbness began to creep through your mind, the same numbness you had felt before. The numbness that had crawled through your veins at the night of the wedding, and instead of fighting it, you welcomed it with open arms. 

Take me.

Aegon became more vocal the closer he got to his release, his moans and groans cascading into the air as his thrusts became sloppier and more painful. You blinked into the dark, slumping in the bed as you prayed he would finish soon. 

That it would be over soon.

“Kepa.” You whimpered, calling out to your father that you knew could not hear you. 

That you knew could not help you. 

That you knew could not save you. 

Aegon groaned loudly, and suddenly it was over. 

He pushed himself as deep as he could go and you felt the heat of his seed begin to pool against your womb. Nausea rolled inside of you, and you retched loudly, feeling the food you had pitifully eaten begin to rise from your stomach. 

The weight of the King settled atop you as he laid his body down from exhaustion, cock still twitching inside of you.

Searing pain spread through your core as you blinked the tears away, still crying beneath him.

It was over. 

It was over.

It was over.

Aegon shifted, pulling his now soft cock from inside of you, a moan tumbling from his lips as a whimper escaped yours. 

You laid still, mind reeling, body frozen as he looked down at you. 

“Let us pray you birth a King’s bastard.” He snickered, your head still turned as you looked at the fireplace, Lucerys and Helaena watching on.

The tears continued to flow down your cheeks, and the familiar comfort of the murky tide rose to swallow you whole. It tugged you beneath its surface and dragged you under more rapidly than it had the first time, and you swam with it, diving down into the abyss.

And then it was quiet. 

And then it was still.

And then it was over. 

You do not know when Aegon had left, nor if he had left without a word. But your mind sought solace in the cold numbness that spread through you, and you let yourself drown in it, turning on your side to stare at the wall unblinking.

The sticky wetness of his seed and your blood on your thighs had begun to dry as your tears subsided. 

The pain still strummed inside of you, but it did not feel like you, it was as though you were experiencing someone else’s pain. It was unfamiliar. Alien.

Uncertain.

Soon, the room faded away, and the world around you fell silent, and all you could feel, was the feeling of not being. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat @hc-geralt-23 @daenerys-supremacy @rabbit-reveries @mari0302 @fallinglikeash @ivy-targaryen @nana-is-reading @kattirin @iameternallylonely

Bold is who I cannot tag!

[milf-murdock]

Manchester Mixup

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon’s non-British partner that doesn’t realize there’s a Man City football team and a Man U football team and buys the wrong tshirt ☠️ Warnings: language, just some domestic fluff A/N: It’s also very much giving Domestic!Simon Riley and I love it, your honor. short little drabble because this seemed fun and I was proper confused when I found out there were, in fact, two Manchester teams

Earl Grey or an herbal blend? You silently debate between the two tea options before a click of the kettle tells you the water is ready. “Earl grey it is, then,” you mutter, preparing your mug for the boiling water and letting it steep as you set a timer for the recommended time.

The pre-game show plays from the tv in the living room and you lean against the open wall between the living room and kitchen to catch a bit of the show while your tea brews.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Simon asks incredulously as you come into his view. He’s sat on the couch, his pint halfway to his lips when he notices the offending item.

You glanced down at your shirt in confusion, tugging out the hem to get a better look at the logo displayed across your chest.

“It’s a Manchester shirt I picked up in preparation for the big game. I figured I’d represent your team seeing as we’re here now, so I guess they’re sort of my team now too,” you shrug as your timer goes off for your tea. Heading back to the kitchen, you gingerly remove the tea bag and toss it in the bin before adding what Simon always considers to be an offensive amount of milk and sugar. Regardless of the cheeky comments directed your way, though all in good fun, you still felt like you were adapting more and more to what you would consider “British Culture” as the days passed since you came back to settle down with Simon.

“Who knows, babe, maybe it’ll it be good luck,” you chirp pleasantly, walking back in the room carefully with your full teacup in hand before placing it on the coffee table.

“The fuck it will be,” Simon gives your shirt a dirty look. “Wrong fucking team, love.”

Your brows furrow and you look down at your shirt again. “No…it’s Manchester, Simon.” You adamantly point to the MCFC logo. “And it came in this super pretty blue color,” you carry on absentmindedly, completely impervious to Simon’s faux look of outrage at your compliment.

“Sweetheart,” he says with a sigh, trying his best to fix you with his firmest stare, whilst also trying to withhold his own laugh at the situation. “There are two Manchester teams: Man City and Man U.”

“Two teams?” Your brows furrow even deeper. “How can one city have two teams? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Just the way it is—I didn’t make the teams up,” Now it’s Simon’s turn to give his shoulders a shrug.

“Hmph.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a playful sort of irritation seeping through. “So two teams, huh?”

“Yup,” Simon gives a solemn nod.

“And this is the wrong one?” You gesture vaguely to the shirt.

“‘Fraid so, darling.”

The dramatic sigh that escapes your lips is worthy of its own Oscar. And then, inspiration strikes and a smile starts to tug at the edge of your lips.

You saunter the last few remaining steps toward Simon, standing between his open legs.

“Guess you’ll have to take it off of me then,” you suggest as you flash him a suggestive smirk.

“Oh it’s beyond just taking it off, love,” he sighs in exasperation. “We’ll need to go burn the bloody thing in the alley way.”

Simon huffs out a laugh before two strong hands grab your hips and pull you forward onto his lap, familiar lips finding your own.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jade Leech - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: A museum that has been standing for 100 years is a wondrous thing. My heart leaps for joy at the prospect of encountering exciting works of art!

Summon Line: What a perfect suit to wear to such a long-standing museum. Fufu... What say you, does it look good on me?

Groooovy!!: The ocean is rife with danger. Who knows what may have befallen this happy little crab afterwards...

Home: Time to celebrate their 100th Anniversary.

Home Idle 1: I often see rather strange flora in paintings that depict the Queen of Hearts. I would love to see some of those with my own eyes someday.

Home Idle 2: Every painting of the Fairest Queen depicts her flawless beauty in such a flattering light. It's no wonder that Rook-san admires her greatly.

Home Idle 3: Down in the ocean depths, the Sea Witch's favorite lipstick is very popular. The container is even shaped like a seashell... I recall gifting it to my mother once, as well.

Home Idle - Login: If any of the paintings depicting ocean tales interest you, please don't hesitate to let me know. Perhaps I can help increase your appreciation of them.

Home Idle - Groovy: Riddle-san is even knowledgeable of the tales that come from the ocean. I should follow his example and widen my own knowledge of tales from the surface.

Home Tap 1: I've been improving my own sketching skills each day, of course, so that I would be able to more accurately describe the things I encounter in the mountains.

Home Tap 2: Sebek-kun declared that he would like to test his strength against the supernaturally strong young man that was said to be a child of a god. I know could never possibly consider challenging such a person, indeed.

Home Tap 3: I could hear Ruggie-san's stomach rumbling as he stood before a painting of some apples. They were drawn so beautifully that I can certainly understand how it would invigorate his appetite!

Home Tap 4: The paintings here on the surface are very colorful and I enjoy gazing at them very much. Colors tend to fade the closer they are to the ocean floor, you see.

Home Tap 5: You think that I resemble the moray eel that served the Sea Witch? In all honesty, I also felt a sort of kinship with them too. Especially with our mismatched eye colors.

Home Tap - Groovy: The museum shop has tea blends inspired by all these great people? Thank you for that wonderful news. I must go buy some.

Duo: [JADE]: Riddle-san, is this not an opportune moment? [RIDDLE]: We seem to be on the same page for once, Jade.

Birthday Login Message: Is that supposed to be a present for me? ...Ah, no need to shirk. I will wholeheartedly accept this from you. You see, there are those who would attempt to startle me with trick boxes and the like, so... I was simply wondering what it was that you were planning on giving me. Fufu, I am looking forward to opening it.

[letomills]

Download skins: SFS / Mega

A set of 22 geneticized & townified skins, including defaults for S1-S2-S3-S4 and the alien skin. Credit for the original skins goes to @whysim, Nat / @theboldandthebeautifulsims, @pooklet and Tea Leaf, thank you so much to them!

I did however make substantial tweaks and additions to all skins: • everyone TU-EU has the appropriate fat, normal and fit states (for the alien textures to show up as they should, please use Argon's alien and zombie fitness fix) • all elders have wrinkles, except on the alien skin (I used @simnopke's subtle wrinkles) • all toddlers have the cute toddler teeth and babies have no teeth, • teeth from Nat's, Pooklet's and Tea Leaf's skins were replaced either with ones from the Whysim skins or the ones used on @serabiet's Those Darn Skins, just because they're less bright and I like that better • all skins are compatible with sexyfeet (I just had to cover up a watermark on one of them iirc) • lowered the color temperature on Whysim BuffyHP Tan Skinblend TG (S2).

Complete previews of AU-EU faces and uncensored bodies (fat, normal and fit) are included in the download, which is why it's such a large archive (the skins themselves aren't particularly heavy, don't worry). Teens get the same textures as adults; children, toddler and babies have their own.

More details below.

Skins and links to the originals:

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 32TG - Whysim Tifa 57 Edit TG

Default S1: Whysim Misc Skin Blend 30TG - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 40TG

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 37TG - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 31TG

Default S2: Whysim BuffyHP Tan Skinblend TG (my edit: more pink, less orange) - Whysim Ashleydoll Blend Edit TG

Nat Bambi Expanded 7 - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 19TG

Whysim BuffyHP Dark TG - Default S3: Whysim Misc Skin Blend 29TG

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 7TG - Nat Bambi Expanded 10

Nat Bambi Expanded 12 - Pooklet My Poor Lover 06

Nat Bambi Expanded 14 - Pooklet Mouseyblue Dusk Skin 03

Default S4: Pooklet My Poor Lover 07 - Nat Bambi Expanded 18

Pooklet My Poor Lover 08 - Default alien: Tea Leaf Stargazer MPL Zoen Blend

These skins are townified, meaning that new townies and NPCs that spawn can get them. They are also geneticized, meaning that they have genetic values that inform which skintones will be given to babies born in game. Basically babies will always get skintones that fall in between or on the skintones that their biological parents have, as is the case for the four default skintones.

You can see the genetic value that I assigned to a skin at the end its file name. Example: "1_Whysim_MiscSkinBlend32TG_0.05.package" → this skin has a genetic value of 0.05. The skins that are S1-S4 default replacements have respective genetic values of 0.1, 0.3, 0.6 and 0.9. For more info on that and to learn how to change a custom skin's genetic value, see Rikkulidea's tutorial.

If you don't want all 22 skins but just a selection, feel free to pick and choose and it won't disrupt anything when it comes to genetics (if you want to mix them with other skins however, you may want to make sure that all the genetic values really are in a sequence from lightest to darkest). If on the other hand you think 22 skins isn't enough, check you @esotheria-sims's 97 geneticized skins 💖

Please let me know if you encounter any issues or have any questions.

✨Future plans for body shapes: these here skins are regular skins linked to the standard Maxis body shapes. I will be working on showerproof skins for custom body shapes that will be repo'd to these skins, starting with Momma Lisa/Melodie9 fat male (edit: it's here!). It may take a while but in the end all 22 skins will come in showerproof versions for as many body shapes as I have the mental fortitude to do (making showerproof skins is an excruciating mix of requiring focus and discipline while being extremely tedious).

~

The F hair used on the titlecard is @fakebloood's SClub Haruki in dynamite - the M hair below the cut is AlmightyHat's Shorn in dynamite - the eyes in all previews are from this set by @serabiet - the eyebrows are defaults by Cavernosims.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 30 - All Blends

Alright. We're jumping around quite a bit here. Also, I'm doing my own thing with the OP timeline. I tried to keep it as close to Canon as I could in the beginning, but we're gonna go a little off course now. Hope ya don't mind!

Warnings! Mihawk and Shanks have a pity party, and some smut happens. Out reader gets some company she really doesn't want.

Masterlist

Mihawk cradles brow in one hand, his head pounding in a hangover. After his Angel had ended the call, he and Shanks had cracked open the “good stuff” as the redhead called it. He must have passed out still sitting in his chair, and the young man had curled up on the loveseat tucked in the back corner of his study. He wipes his eyes, grimacing at the state of himself. The warlord had definitely let himself go in these two weeks.

How could he not when you had sent him away? Told him to leave with such a cold look that he had no idea how you felt about all of this other than utter betrayal? Mihawk couldn't get his mind off of his angel. Were you okay? Were you getting enough to eat?

He and Shanks had taken up a lot of duties around the cottage as the weeks passed. Doting on you and making sure that you and their baby wanted for nothing. Shanks liked to cuddle you close on the couch, making sure that you couldn't move while Dracule uttered around the house, cleaning up after a lazy week and taking care of the early morning chores.

“I bet she'll have red hair and big golden eyes just like her daddies,” Shanks murmurs into your ear, his single arm curled around your waist and holding you to his chest. You blush at his words, eyes closed as you imagine a little girl like your lover describes, laughing and playing in the shallow waters.

Mihawk leans against the wall that separates the kitchen and living room, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches his two dearest ones laid up on the couch together.

He pushes himself back, wobbling to his feet and groaning when his stomach sloshes dangerously. His head feels full, mouth dry, and cottony. Every step makes the pain in his head spike, and Mihawk shoves at Shanks’ shoulder when he makes it to the loveseat.

The redhead makes a sound closer to a wounded elephant than a human, cracking his dark eyes open to glare at Mihawk. The warlord shoves at him again. He sighs heavily before shifting to lay on his back. Satisfied, Dracule draps himself over the broader man, tucking his face in the crook of Shanks’ neck and sighing when he feels an arm sling across his back.

The two of them lay there for a while, dozing off at some point and waking back up to find a more comfortable position before dozing back off.

Dracule wakes to the feel of nails scratching his scalp. He hums low in his throat, pushing his face into his tan skin and pressing his lips along the sensitive skin. He leaves a smattering of kisses there, lips quirking up when Shanks tightens his arm around his waist. A soft groan leaves the younger man when Mihawk shifts up to run his lips along his scruffy jawline, and his eyes crack open when Dracule kisses him.

The kiss is slow and steady, a sweet push and pull that stays innocent. Mihawk pulls away and rests his head on his lover's chest, pillowed on the strong pecs there, eyes sliding shut until he breathes deep and gets a whiff of them both.

Mihawk jerks his head up, lips curling in a sneer. Neither of them have taken very good care of themselves and had continued their self-destruction after you had called, wallowing in self-pity and lamenting about their shitty choices.

“I never should have told her, Shanks,” Mihawk bemoans into the glass of hard liquor. The redhead stares down at his lover and shakes his head at the wreck slumped over his desk, “Perona has not stopped her incessant whining. I know I'm in the wrong.”

“I know, baby. She'll call again, though. I'm sure she will,” Shanks murmurs and then pours them both drinks. He leans his weight into Mihawk. “She just needs some time.”

After you called last night and more or less sober and hungover, Mihawk wasn't very inclined to continue his beder. Hawkeye wonders where the ghost girl had run off to. He vaguely remembers shouting at her a couple of days into his self-destruction. His head hurt too much to think about that right now.

Mihawk shoves himself up from Shanks, making the redhead huff and trying to pull him back down.

“Let me go, Shanks. We need to get up,” Dracule grumbles at the younger man. He has to wrestle his shirt out of the redhead's grip and quietly curses him when it causes Mihawk to tilt dangerously to the stone floor.

“Noooo. Stay here. It's cold, and you're warm,” Shanks whines and makes a grabby hand at his hawk.

“Red, we stink worse than a dive bar. I'm getting up to bathe,” Mihawk hisses right back and finally stands from the loveseat.

“_, would kill us if she saw us like this. Come on. We need to clean up.”

It takes a bit more coaxing for Shanks to get up, and he's all but useless in trying to direct to the bathroom. The redhead is still drunk as hell, and Mihawk has to sling the Emperor’s arm over his shoulders to get him going. Dracule grumbles all the way to the bathroom and drops Shanks on the nearest stool. He sways to the side, only to jerk back up when Mihawk smacks the side of his face just hard enough to sting.

“Wake up, Red. I am not washing you.”

Shanks pouts, hand holding his sore cheek as he gives Mihawk the best stink eye he can muster up right now. His hurt feelings dissipate the moment his woozy mind catches up to where they are, and his eyes zero in on Mihawk when the older man begins to undress.

He watches his hawk peel away his shirt, exposing his muscled back and tapered waist. Shanks feels his mouth run dry, and he wants more than anything to explore that smooth expansion of flesh with his teeth and tongue. To leave behind his own marks. He keeps watching, cock hardening in his pants when Dracule shucks off his pants, giving Shanks an excellent view of his backside and creamy thighs that he wants wrapped around his waist. He can't help the groan of want that leaves him when his treasure bends over to turn in the faucet.

Dracule glares at Shanks from over his shoulder, cheeks coloring when he notices those stormcloud eyes eating him up. He whips back around and gets into the hot spray of the shower, ignoring how his thighs tremble and his dick twitches in interest. He begins to wash, body relaxing at finally being clean, and a weight he didn't realize was there lifted from his shoulders.

It doesn't take long for Shanks to join him, and though he said he wasn't going to help the younger man, he did. Taking the loofah from the redhead and motioning for him to turn around so that Mihawk could scrub his back. He scrubs that shaggy red mane until Shanks looks more like a poodle than human. He huffs at the image, feeling forlorn when he thinks of you and how you would have snickered at the two men being silly.

Mihawk washes his own hair while Shanks stands under the hot spray of water, watching the way the water ran down that perfect body and feeling hungry. He waits until Mihawk and he swap places, watching the warlord rinse his hair before Shanks drops to his knees, hand coming up to curl around one muscular thigh.

Dracule jumps at the sudden touch, opening his eyes and glancing down to see Shanks kneeling before him. His cock floods with blood, and he almost feels light headed with how quickly it happens.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Shanks murmurs into the thigh he isn't holding. He kisses the inside, teeth nipping at the delicate flesh and making Mihawk jerk in his hold. He looks up, smirking when he notices the flush on his lover's face and the barely there nod he received.

Shanks releases the leg he holds, smoothing his hand over the older man's hip and digging his thumb into the dip of his waist. He relents and keeps going, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin of his tests before wrapping around the base of Dracule's dick.

He pumps the other man, eyes landing on the bead of precum that wells up, and he leans in and licks it away before the shower could claim it. Mihawk hisses at the kitten licks, one hand finding the wall while the other slips into Shanks’ hair to hold tight. He leans in, lips wrapping around the head of his cock and suckling lightly, tongue rubbing teasing circles on the bottom of his length.

Mihawk curses quietly, hips jumping forward to find more of that welcoming heat. Shanks eagerly takes more of him down, jaw dropping and throat relaxing until his nose bumped against Dracule's pelvis. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, humming low in his throat and loving the way that Mihawk clenched his eyes shut and ruts into his mouth without abandon.

Dracule loves it when you suck him off, but Shanks has always been the best at giving head. The man had zero gag reflex and had had no problem when Mihawk became rough, fingers tangled in those red locks and moving Shanks the way he wanted. He fucks that sinful mouth, teeth bared as his orgasam crests closer and closer to he edge.

It's a surprise to both of them when cum floods Shanks’ mouth, and the redhead’s eyes flutter as he swallows It all down, lips and tongue massaging the length In his mouth until it grows soft and Dracule it pushing him away, grumbling about how sensitive it is. Shanks presses his face to a pale thigh and looks up through his lashes at Mihawk.

The hand in his hair loosens and gently strokes the wet hair out of Shanks’ face, and he aims a tiny smile at the younger man. The two of them stay in the shower until their fingers prune and the water runs cool. They dry and dress in clean clothes, leaving the bathroom for the kitchens where Shanks tries to help Mihawk cook breakfast.

The two men hover around one another for the rest of the day, hardly leaving the other's side. Mihawk puts away the alcohol and wonders outside, breaking in the gloomy air of his island. Shanks stops beside him, arm hooking around his waist and pressing his cheek to the other man's.

“I hope she calls soon,” he murmurs quietly.

Mihawk nods, pressing back into the redhead's scratchy cheek, chest tight and full of worry for his angel so far away from them.

“Me too, Dear.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

One month ago

In the New World on Whole Cake Island, Wiseman ran through the palace halls, dodging servants and children alike to get to his captain. He is stopped outside of the courtroom by her guards, but they let him pass after confirming who he is. Inside, Big Mom and Katakuri are speaking, and Wiseman waits patiently for his Captain to acknowledge his presence.

“Well, if it isn't one of my oldest crew, what brings you back here? Hmmm?” Big Mom demands of him from a top her sentient cloud.

Wiseman bows low and then straightens back up, giving his Captain a lopsided smile.

“I overheard something that may be of importance to you. Red Haired Shanks has apparently found himself a woman. One that happens to be the lost princess to the Nammi Isles. I tracked his ship, and her island was back in Paradise, close to Little Garden, safe and tucked away beside the Calm Belt.”

Big Mom grins, plans already forming in her mind about which of her sons she could marry the little brat off to. This was the perfect leverage she needed to get to his brother, too.

“Well done, Wiseman. Take whoever you need and go retrieve our lost pet, would you?”

Wiseman grins, and dips his head, “The pleasure would be mine.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

Tomura was glad that his crew was full of marines who could be called competent most of the time. The other half of the time, the devil fruit user wondered why he kept them around. However, his crew must be able to tell that he wasn't in the mood for any kind of nonsense they could stir up. He'd left the backwater island as swiftly as he could after Smoker had informed him of the rumor about his sister. However, the Grand Line was unpredictable, and the weather had turned to shit not a week into their journey back to the safe house on his sister's island.

If the rumor had already made its rounds, there was little doubt that Big Mom knew about his sister. The thought of the Emperor getting her fat, grubby hands on you made Tomura's blood boil, red eating at the corners of his eyes and he's broken more than one railing on the ship in his rage.

The same private from earlier hadn't left his side, always ready and eager to help his Vice Admiral with anything Delemur may need. Nitchell was also incredibly curious about what had sent his superior into such a tizzy.

He shoved his brown hair back under his cap and went to the Vice Admiral's side, standing at attention until Tomura rolled his eyes and told him to stand at rest.

“What do you want?”

Nitchell licked his lips. He wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to be tossed overboard.

“Orders were to head to Dressrosa and help mitigate the damages that the Straw Hats left behind, Sir. But we're going back to Paradise.”

Tomura glared at the horizon. They were finally making good headway and would make it to the navy sanctioned area of the Calm Belt in the next day or so. He cuts his eyes at the private, turning to give Nitchell his full attention.

“You want to know why?”

The private nods, and Tomura sighs heavily, leveling the younger man with a narrowed eyed look.

“Not a lot of people know I've got a sister out there, and I think she might be in trouble.”

~~~~Line Break~~~~

Present Day.

Perona had left three days ago, and you felt even more lonely than you had before she'd shown up. It had been nice to catch up with the other girl, however, and assured her that you would call her if you needed anything.

You sat on the couch, curled up on your side with Mihawk's coat draped over you like a blanket, wearing one of the redhead's shirts like usual. As the weeks passed and your belly grew, you found that none of your clothes fit you anymore. It's been a slap in the face that had made you break down for the third time that day.

Sukuna and Hank lay with you. The fluffball curled across your swollen belly, and your shaggy dog lay over your legs. The record player belted out a slow tune that made you think about Mihawk and had mist gathering in your eyes. Fuck. You missed your boys so freaking much.

Hank wishes that his human would start feeling better. She'd been down and sad for so long that the scent of her angst was stuck in his nose. He knew that Sukuna fared no better than him.

His ears twitched when the crashing of the ocean waves broke, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of loud human voices jeering and yelling. Hank raises his head, curious if it were the same humans that the redhead led, but he didn't hear anything familiar about any of the loud sounds. He looks Sukuna's way and sees that the cat's ears are flat against his skull and knows that whoever is on their island aren't nice people.

You jerk up when a low growl erupts in the room. You have never heard Hank make that sound before, and before you know it, Sukuna is joining him.

Outside, Neal bleats loudly, his sensitive nose picking up the scent of humans who don't belong here. He circles back and forth in his pen and bleats again, louder this time to get Hank and Sukuna's attention.

Snow sprouts out around you, fear curdling in your stomach as the animals continue to show such aggressive behavior. Hank and Sukuna jump off the couch, the cat's tail lashing, and he hisses at you when you go to follow them, making you jerk back in hurt.

“What the hell is going on?” You demand, and that's when you hear the sound of yelling, men and women stomping up your path from the beach. Your eyes go wide, and you are quick to run to your bedroom, finding your snail phone and booking it out the back entrance, Hank and Sukuna on your heels.

You have no idea who is on your island, but you have a horrible feeling about it, and you do not want to be found.

From here you can see the silhouette of a group of about fifteen people, you can't make out any faces, but one of them has a shirt that sports a familiar jolly roger, and you know who is on your island at that moment.

Somehow, Big Mom had found you.

You circle around them, heart in your throat as Hank and Sukuna keep close to you. You run the length of the thick forest and curse your island for being so damn small. The only place you could hide would be the caves up in the mountains, but even then, there were hardly any big enough for you to fit inside any of them.

You aren't sure how much time has passed by the time you make it up the short mountain, but you are exhausted, and your feet are killing you. You would have used your devil fruit, but after a long talk with Mihawk and Shanks, the three of you agreed that using the fruit would put you and the baby in far too much risk. Who knew what could happen if you turned to snow while still pregnant.

Thankfully, Hank had led you to a cave that the three of you could fit inside. Your heart ached for your chickens and Neal, and you could only hope that the pirates had left them alone.

With trembling hands, you dial Mihawk's transponder snail, but it rings and rings without an answer. You curse as tears fill your eyes, terror eating away at you when the sound of yelling could be heard getting closer.

You could hear them calling out your name, assuring you that you were safe and everything would be alright. Lies. All of it.

You dial Perona next, and thankfully, the ghost girl picks up after a couple of rings.

Ca-lick

“Hello? _, is that you?”

You sniff loudly and clear your throat, “Perona. I- I need help. I think Big Mom's crew is here.”

You hear Perona curse loudly and yell for one of her stuffies to hold the wheel of the ship she'd taken from Gloom Island.

“Are you safe? Have you called Mihawk?”

“He didn't answer. Please, get a hold of him. I'll keep trying on my end.”

Perona quickly promises the same and then hangs up after demanding that you be careful. You promise to try and then end the call, quickly ringing for Mihawk again. You try Shanks next and could have cried when the transponder connects.

Ca-lick

“This is Beckmann.”

“Ben!” You cry and clutch the snail to your chest, sobs coming in hard at hearing his voice. If Ben had answered, then Shanks had to be near, “I need help! The Big Mom pirates are here.”

You hear him curse even more colorfully than Perona, and then he assures you that he would get Shanks back on the ship as soon as possible. You thank him and then hand up, fingers shaking as you try Mihawk's number again and again.

The sound of hissing and Hank snarling grab your attention, and you jerk your head up to see a gaggle of lights coming up the mountain. You press yourself into the cave, dragging Hank and Sukuna close to keep them hidden, but it is all for nothing. Your heart jack hammers when the lights crest the rocky pathway, and you are greeted by the sight of two men looming over you. One is older with well kept Grey hair pulled into a half bun. He wears a three piece suit and has a vile grin on his face.

The other is short and stout, arms jointed in two separate areas and dressed similarly to the older man. He looks just as gleeful to see you as the other one.

“Looks like Red Hair was right, Wiseman,” the short one says and leans in close, sneering down at you.

“Big Mom will be pleased.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

[dotieeee]

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 5

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession. possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 5 Warnings:

Snow and his vile unclean 18+ thoughts, the blackest of mails lol, manipulation

Replay Level 4

Ready? Level 5 Start:

In Coriolanus’s mind, he can recall, word for word, the meeting he had requested Strabo Plinth to initiate with Acacius Innis.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called for this meeting, Acacius,” Strabo Plinth had said as soon as the servants had cleared out.

Acacius Innis and he were seated on finely upholstered chairs inside the Plinth patriarch’s office, with Strabo’s intricately carved oak desk between them, served the highest quality tea his money could buy. Coriolanus simply stood beside him, obediently there to chime in only when needed. He needed to let Plinth senior handle Innis senior – this is, after all, what Strabo did best.

In a few ways, the patriarchs were similar: they both don’t drink alcohol, they both come from the Districts, and they share an almost uncanny flair for business. But that is where their common ground ended, as far as Coriolanus was concerned. He had the Plinth patriarch essentially wrapped around his finger. The Innis patriarch, however, had always been wary of him; he could tell. He could feel Acacius’s perceptive eyes on him the entire time he’d been at your home, even if he wasn’t necessarily looking – eyes that seemed to see right through people. You shared that with him too, apparently, given how similarly you behaved with him during your Academy years. On top of that, Acacius wasn’t one to flaunt his riches as extravagantly as Strabo, as evidenced by his taste for a simpler wardrobe and refusal to hire a cook and stay-at-home help. District, his roots may be, yet he seamlessly blends well with Capitol’s high society.

And there he was, casually sipping a cup of tea as he considered Strabo’s question. He put it down with the grace one would expect from an Innis. He may spew the occasional acerbic remark, but his social etiquette is flawless.

“I had an inkling what it was about during our lovely dinner,” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

Strabo said as he stirred his tea. “Ever the sharp one, aren’t you?” His light chuckle echoed in the room. “Very well, then. I’ll get right to the point.

“I’d like to propose a union between our houses: Snows - and the Plinths in conjunction – and the Innises by way of marriage.”

Coriolanus had his eyes glued to him the entire time: if Acacius Innis felt anything at all about this proposal, he remained unfazed, his face a friendly, blank mask.

“My heir, Coriolanus,” he gestured to him beside his seat, “And your niece will make the perfect match. I understand they both now have a... camaraderie of sorts; we’d only be giving them a push forward in the right direction.”

The Innis senior’s eyes were hard, but he bobbed his head slowly as if he were weighing the offer.

Strabo continued speaking, but it was at this point that Coriolanus could guess Acacius’s response, although he still had some hope in his heart that he was wrong about it.

“I can’t think of any other couple more attractive. Nellie’s just turned twenty, right? Coriolanus, here, turned twenty several months ago. Both young and bright and excelling in their own fields. Imagine the wedding of the century, two of the most powerful clans of Panem in union...your Nellie will make a fine wife for my Coriolanus, just as he will make a dutiful husband for her. Think of the grandchildren, Acacius. They’d be adorable and frighteningly smart for their age...”

Coriolanus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Acacius Innis will never be swayed by the thought of having grandchildren. Then again, he didn’t know what he would be swayed by; the man was an impenetrable wall.

“Hmm. Does Coriolanus consent to this?” Acacius turned to him. If Coriolanus Snow was surprised by his question, he never showed it.

“I do, sir,” he replied with conviction. “I hold your niece in the highest regard.”

Acacius hummed before picking up his cup of tea and drinking.

“He’s being humble, Acacius,” Strabo confirms. “You’ve seen them together, they’re practically a couple. So, what do you say?”

“No.”

Coriolanus felt his eye twitch.

Innis Senior could’ve just punched him in the face, and he could’ve gotten less of a reaction.

Even Strabo was at a loss for words. “'No?’ Acacius...think of what this union could mean for our heirs. Their combined might will one day rule all of Panem. You see, Coriolanus is setting his eyes on politics. Not just any political seat: he aims for the presidency. I have no doubt he will ascend to the greatest of political heights.”

Could he not have begun his pitch with that, instead?

Acacius smiles wryly. “I’m sure Coriolanus will achieve anything he puts his mind to, Strabo. He has the makings of a powerful man,” he sighs. “But this isn’t about his ambition. This is about Nellie’s life. I cannot, in good conscience, choose for her on her behalf.”

Strabo tilts his head with a questioning look. “Surely, Nellie will understand your choice, given you have her best interests at heart?”

“Precisely why I could never do that to her. She trusts me and my judgement, and I can’t betray her trust like that.”

“What if I told you I could make you a shareholder at my company’s military weapons division? We have, after all, profited greatly for the past decade. Our financial forecasts project even greater growth for the next few years, thanks to reinforced peacekeeping policies. I can guarantee you a hefty slice of the pie."

Acacius clasps his hands together and leans forward on the desk with a polite smile.

“My sincerest apologies, Strabo. I cannot agree with this proposal of yours, and I don’t think there is anything you could offer me that will make me accept. It would be unfair to my niece to seal her fate without her consent. You understand hard work, more than anyone else. I raised Nellie as my own after her parents died, and I’ve worked hard for her to have choices in life where most don’t. I’d like to imagine that extends even to matters concerning matrimony. Whoever she chooses to marry, if she chooses to marry at all, shouldn’t be decided among three men in a room, over a meeting she wasn’t not even allowed in.”

Coriolanus felt a vein in his temple throb. Of course, he was livid. What made him even more furious was the fact that Strabo had the gall to look moved by Innis senior’s speech.

He wanted nothing but to strangle the both of them then and there.

But, as usual, Coriolanus Snow was a man of utter composure. He said nothing, kept his face a blank mask, as he listened to Strabo basically taking Acacius’s side.

“Very well, Acacius, my old friend. Your niece is lucky to have you as a father figure. We do what we can to protect our children, and for that, you have my utmost respect.”

A thought crossed Coriolanus’s mind at Strabo’s words.

Acacius had just inadvertently revealed his weakness. You.

Not such an impenetrable wall, after all.

As if pouring salt over an open wound, Strabo patted Coriolanus on the back and added, “Coriolanus will just have to earn Nellie’s hand the hard way, I’m afraid. Oh, and do come to my birthday party this Friday night at the Palisades? The invitations were mailed out last week, and if you’re not busy, you can bring Nellie with you.”

“Friday, you say?” Acacius asked as he got up from his chair. “I might have to take a raincheck, my friend. I’m spearheading a new defence division at the Citadel, and I expect Friday will be hectic for me. My well wishes to you today, and your birthday gift I shall send via delivery.”

Strabo acknowledged Acacius’s smile of apology with a nod. “Of course, duties to the Capitol come first.”

The elder males shook hands firmly before they all exited the room, led by Innis senior.

To call this a disappointing turn of events was an understatement.

That sweet smile you had on your pretty little face as you bid him good night was his only solace for the rest of the evening. He wished he could see more of that smile; he wished he could have it bottled or kept it in a jar, perhaps, so he could look at it anytime he wanted. Just the thought of having something of you with him all the time made him feel a little better. Obviously, having you to himself all the time would beat having just something of you, but he hasn’t quite gotten to that yet. A certain relative of yours just made sure of that.

He thought he had a plan to get you. He knew he had no chance at winning Acacius Innis over if he alone had asked for your hand himself, but he had high hopes that with Strabo Plinth leading the conversation, he’d be more open to the idea of an alliance between your families by way of marriage. So much for that well-thought-out plan.

No matter: he had one other weapon he had at his disposal. One more leverage on you – and that obstinate prick you call an uncle – that could prove so devastating, it could have you begging him to take your soul for him to keep the dirt from surfacing.

All he had to figure out was his timing.

***

You and your uncle never talk about what transpired at the Citadel the day he asked you to bring those files. You’re still on the fence as to whether he had set you up to uncover what could plausibly be a conspiracy surrounding Sejanus’s death, but the facts you’ve gathered surrounding the incident prove too hard to overlook.

Had your uncle already known about it for a time, and had he been sitting on the information until then? Why did he choose to reveal it this way if he had indeed set you up? Why did he keep it to himself then?

And then there’s that...thing...that thought about your friend that you know you’re not supposed to entertain because of how outlandish it sounds, but a thought you can’t seem to get rid of, nonetheless.

That nagging suspicion that just won’t go away, no matter how hard you try to rationalise.

You keep going back and forth between what you can remember in Sejanus’s letters and the information Dr Kay had revealed; how Sejanus had been entangling with rebel forces; how the peacekeepers in District 12 had been ordered to gather catch jabberjays for scientific research; how he could’ve confessed to someone he trusted enough to be comfortable around with; and he could’ve been recorded by any of the peacekeepers who had access to the jabberjay remotes; how only one of the jabberjays conveniently turned up dead only a day after the birds arrived at the Capitol…

…How the only person Sejanus mentioned he trusted the most the entire time he was in District 12 was Coriolanus Snow.

Everything you know about every event that happened in District 12 circles back to him somehow, and you hate yourself for not being able to come up with a different conclusion.

Everybody says you’re smart, but look where it’s gotten you, now: with more questions and nowhere to get answers from.

Thursday. Three days have flown by since that day.

Every day for three days since you’ve woken up drenched in sweat, having dreamt of jabberjays flocking all over you, screaming your name and Sejanus’s, and Coriolanus singing to the birds a song you don’t quite understand. Today, however, your brain decided to kick it up a notch because it felt you had too little going on.

It began with Coriolanus humming a melody that doesn’t make sense when you hum it in real life, and the birds flying all around you and screaming your name and Sejanus’s in bloody murder. Sejanus made an entrance, facing you from only a few feet away. You could see from where you were that he was trying to open his mouth as if he wanted to say something from beyond the grave, but no words came out. Instead, out came from his parted lips a beak, then the head of a bird with purplish-blue plumage, followed by the entire body of the accursed bird. The bird took one look at you, then darted straight in your direction, before you woke up without much ceremony.

Fuck those birds and fuck these dreams. Just another bad thing that catapults you to another day in another one of those moods.

You have to be out, somehow. Function in society, no matter how much you hate it. No matter how much said society sickens you; even if said society would no sooner have you hanged as traitorous trash faster than you could show an ounce of condemnable humanity.

You made a promise to Sejanus to move on, and so for today, you’ll try.

There is work to be done at the University, what with summer classes underway. The class guides would’ve been taken care of by now courtesy of your uncle’s interns, but you have another task as his official apprentice – a task you can never bring yourself to abandon.

Your living room phone rings a little before noon, just as you’re trying to graze on cornflakes to try and get your day going. You temporarily leave your bowl to answer the familiar voice on the other line.

“Nellie. I haven’t seen you in days.” Coriolanus sounds a tad put out.

“Coryo.” A twinge of guilt finds its way to your voice. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been – ”

“Hiding yourself away again? Nellie, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Coryo, I’m fine.”

You can hear him heave an exasperated sigh. “Nellie, we’ve talked about this. You can freely speak your mind with me. Tell me anything.”

Anything, as in, did-you-kill-Sejanus-anything?

“I know,” you respond flatly.

Maybe you can ask him instead of moping, you think to yourself. He might know something. He might know of anyone else your friend had grown close with in District 12 apart from him. That way, maybe you could finally put away these awful thoughts and decide a course of action. Maybe you can then tell Ma and Strabo Plinth, and leave it up to them to make the next move. Maybe you can find that peacekeeper yourself and kill him with your bare hands.

Wishful thinking.

Ask him. Do something, just so you can shut that stupid voice up in your head blaming Coryo for every little unhappiness you encounter.

“We can go out today before I go to the Citadel,” he offers.

Thank goodness he beat you to it. “Really? You have time?”

“For you? Of course, I do. What do you think of getting ice cream?”

What do you think of telling the truth? “Sure, that sounds nice.”

He gives you an address and a time: The Headless Confectioner’s at two. The same candy shop and creamery your uncle gets all his sweets from. You accept.

There’s plenty of time to get some work done before then.

University life dwindles during the summer break. The only ones that are there are the professors and the few summer students looking into getting advanced credits or making up for failed subjects, allowing the school to breathe for a while and enjoy the little quiet it gets every academic year.

The lab is thankfully empty when you arrive, with your uncle currently conducting a class. You’re comforted, if only a little, at the sound your keyboard makes as you type steadily, entering countless lines of commands that will eventually make up the program.

If only there was some way you could run some tests on it besides the usual debugging.

By one thirty, you’re out of the lab, foregoing your usual car ride in favour of walking to The Headless Confectioner’s. It’s a bit of a long walk, but you figure you need the time to clear your head.

Plan your next more wisely, your uncle had said.

Perhaps you have been approaching this dilemma the wrong way. Maybe, just like all manners of mathematical problem-solving, the problem has to be examined with utmost objectivity. Your friendship with Coryo aside, the facts remain, and you’re simply trying to piece them together to come up with a logic-based conclusion.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t be so upset about asking your friend about it.

The walk gives you plenty of time to get your facts straight and construct your questions. Impartiality or not, you don’t want to needlessly hurt your friend like you did at the Plinth’s Corso home. Sejanus was his best friend, and he most likely was there on the day of his execution.

You are well too aware how witnessing death firsthand can drastically change a person.

You get to The Headless Confectioner’s and find Coryo waiting for you outside the shop. His eyes light up and his lips curl upward the moment he sees you approach. You return his smile and you both waste no time lining up the ice cream booth, where people are already milling around for the best ice cream in the city. He offers to walk you back to the University, to the park near the Computer Sciences College you both frequent.

“You’re awfully quieter than usual,” he observes. You’re both sitting on the same bench where he first offered you his friendship.

The friendship that’s entirely responsible for keeping you from spiralling down further.

“Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say.

He tilts his head at you, casually placing his arm on top of your part of the backrest. “Tell me. You asked if I had time, and I always would, for you.”

You give him a dry smile and breathe deeply. Ask him now, or forget ever asking him again.

“I went to the Citadel. Uncle asked me to bring something for him. I got lost, and...” you swallow that lump in your throat as you note how aptly he’s listening. “And I stumbled upon the jabberjays.”

“Hm. Interesting little things,” he mutters.

You fidget on the hem of your coat absently. “I was told that it was the peacekeepers who had caught them and they were sent here to the Capitol two days before Sejanus’s execution. A day later, one of them died.”

Your friend offers no insight, so you go on. “Coryo, someone recorded Sejanus confessing to something. Someone from the Capitol caught that recording, which led to his death.”

You turn to face your friend to find that his expression has gone rigid, his eyes are hard and cold when he meets your gaze head-on.

This must be just as painful for him to discover.

“I’m sorry that I’m bringing it up now, Coryo,” you say, your lips trembling, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

Objectivity, you remind yourself.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to relive this, but you have to hear me out,” you continue. “Someone from your ranks did that to him.

“Coryo, please,” you implore him. “Try to remember. I’ve run the math in my head over and over but it’s the only explanation I can come up with. It must be someone from your ranks, anyone at all, who might’ve gotten close to him in his last days...anyone whom he trusted enough to confess what he was doing...”

Was it you? Please, tell me it wasn’t. Please, tell me.

Coriolanus’s lips are thinned, his face unreadable and his shoulders now drawn back, yet his eyes never leave yours. Maybe he takes pity in the way you look with your eyes red and tearful, for his features eventually soften, his eyes contrite and his lips parted as he takes a handkerchief out of his breast pocket. He lifts your chin with his thumb and forefinger and wipes your tears with the cloth.

“Nellie, dear, I’m sorry. I really am.” His voice breaks with emotion as he squeezes your chin lightly. He leans into your space further, saying, “I wish I could take your pain and carry it for you. I hate to see you suffering like this.” He lets go and pulls away with a final dab of his handkerchief on your cheek, leaning once more against the bench.

“But I also wish with all my heart I had the answers you seek. Sejanus withdrew within himself in his final days. What battles he faced inwardly were his to bear, and it seems that he kept it that way until he passed.”

‘Liar’ is the only word that floats in your head.

“He was friendly with the other peacekeepers, Nellie. But as far as your deduction has led you, you’re correct: it could’ve been any of them,” he says, dipping his head a small nod. His eyes flick to yours with a strange glint, as if an idea had just crossed his mind. “Maybe there was someone he mentioned in those letters he sent you.”

Your blood runs cold at his words. You could feel it drain from your face, your heart plummeting as your pulse races, watching a corner of his lips twitch upward.

He knows about the letters. He knows.

But you reason within yourself: this doesn’t prove he had him killed. This doesn’t prove anything.

Right?

That look on him. An unmistakable look of victory. Even as you’re both sitting down, he towers over you, staring down at you with those now-hollow eyes. You suddenly don’t feel safe anymore, but you fight the urge to cower.

“Of course, I know, Nellie,” he says as if he read your mind just then. “He never mentioned anything to me about your correspondence, but after his death, I couldn’t help but look through his things for answers as to what he did to himself and why he did it.”

You mean you ransacked his stuff.

“I found a letter he failed to send tucked under his pillow. Addressed to you, Nellie.”

You almost flinch as he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering to play with it.

“Except, it was written in this odd manner, and none of it made sense. I realised, given how smart you are, it must’ve been an idea of yours to write in code. I knew the both of you enough to tell you weren’t really writing about ‘daffodils’ and ‘dandelions dancing in the sunset.’”

A part of you wants to correct him that it was Sejanus’s plan, but you can’t admit it without incriminating yourself. He lets out a chuckle, but it’s humourless, just like the smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He traces a line on your cheek, making him only one swift move away from strangling you.

“I asked myself, ‘What could my two friends be hiding, writing in code?’” You feel immense relief when he pulls his hand away.

“I knew I had to keep it hidden, because, if Sejanus actually wrote to you about his intentions to rebel and you kept it to yourself...if anyone else got a hold of it besides me and they cracked the code, you’d be labelled as complicit with his actions.

What kind of best friend would I be if I hadn’t? If I let it get into someone else’s hands? I’d be dishonouring Sejanus’s memory if I threw you to the wolves.”

Coriolanus’s smile is cold, bordering on sadistic. Behind those cerulean eyes dance a flicker of madness you know you’ve always seen before but had been actively ignoring. Could your instincts have been right about him all along? Is this a thinly veiled threat from a man who had been wearing a mask the entire time and had now taken it off in front of you?

Has your entire friendship with him been a farce?

“I want to keep you safe, my dear Nellie. Let me keep you safe,” he insists, his icy stare not matching his intentions. He crosses his legs, observing you with that ghost of a sneer, as he waits for you to squirm in your seat.

“I have just been appointed an official gamemaker. No more internships. That means I now have enough power and influence to keep that promise. But I can’t do that if I don’t even see you half the time.”

You gulp, trying to keep your composure. You will not give him the satisfaction of seeing you fumble. “What are you saying, Coryo?” You whisper hoarsely.

Coriolanus sighs and gets to his feet, his hands inside his pocket as he gazes far into the lake.

“All I’m saying is I need you close by for me to keep you safe.”

Then he turns to face you, towering over your hunched form on the bench as if he’s cowing you into submission. His voice lowers by a fraction as he speaks.

“Transfer your apprenticeship to me. I need you by my side, Nellie, as my friend, and now as my ally.”

You look up at him, his unblinking, unrelenting gaze keeping you in place. That wasn’t a request, you notice, but a command.

An order that promises repercussions if you don’t obey.

“I need an innovator like you by my side. Someone I can trust fully. I have always trusted you, Nellie. It’s refreshing, don’t you think? The way we speak our minds with each other? A free-flowing exchange of ground-breaking ideas. That’s the kind of partnership I want.”

In other words, he’ll keep the letter a secret if you do what he wants.

“You already have my uncle in your team. There is nothing I can do that he can’t do a thousand times better,” you reason, even if you see no point in reasoning with someone who’s already made up their mind.

“That is true, for now, at least. Did you know your uncle has been promoted to his own new division? Cybersecurity. We’re being ushered back into a better digital age. Something the Capitol has overlooked because of the war. He’ll be too busy for his gamemaking duties, so he’s letting go of them. Think of me as your new direct report, should you accept. I will take care of the transfer. Your tenure under your uncle’s wing will simply be carried over to mine,” he says as he paces in front of you.

Uncle Cas has been promoted? That’s good for him and all, but something in you can tell they must want him out of the way. Of what, exactly?

“There’s this...project your uncle has been working on.”

Your posture instantly stiffens. They want Uncle Cas out of the way to take control of his program. His baby, the very same program he has crafted with so much care and has entrusted you to keep from the wrong hands.

“I saw your notes, Nellie. You had a hand in it. Except, there hasn’t been much progress on the project. Dr Gaul wants that to push forward. Think of what it could mean for the twelfth Hunger Games.”

You draw your eyebrows together at the sheer betrayal he wants you to commit. “Coryo, this is madness. You can’t expect me to go behind my uncle’s back and hijack his work.”

“Sugarplum, no one is going behind anyone’s back. All you have to do is ask him. He’ll understand. This is your uncle’s legacy, and it will be yours, too. The Innis legacy. Besides, he will want you to explore your abilities outside your comfort zone. Come on, do you really expect your skills to improve when he’s keeping you inside that lab, making you label old hard drives and grade mediocre college research papers?”

Chewing the insides of your cheek, you stare at the gravel beneath your feet. He doesn’t appreciate you avoiding his gaze, for he hooks his fingers under your chin once more to look at him. You meet his hard eyes with your anxious ones.

“Nellie, your uncle is a genius. He’s unlike any other I have ever met. But you’re an Innis, too. You’re cut from the same cloth. It’s time you see yourself that way. Think of what we can accomplish together. Work for me, work with me, I get to keep you safe, and you get to show everyone in Panem what the Innis blood is made of.” He flashes a grin, baring a sliver of his perfectly white teeth.

Like a predator flashing its fangs before it pounces.

“Your place is with me, Nellie. Let me prove it. You and I: we will change the Games forever.”

Your lip trembles as his thumb skims over it. You ask in a hushed tone, “Change it...you mean for the good?”

“For good,” comes his simple reply.

You purse your lips, attempting to wrack your brains for anything that can get you out of this predicament you dug yourself into. You come up with nothing.

“I’ll ask Uncle Cas.” You concede. There is no other choice at this point.

Coriolanus dons on a look of perverse satisfaction. Then, in the blink of an eye, his expression shifts. He’s back to the Coryo you know, with that kind smile and those soft, blue eyes, like he hadn’t spent the entire time with you in the park threatening and blackmailing you to do his bidding. It’s a frighteningly impressive ability.

“Think about it, sugarplum. I have to go, but I will collect you and your response tomorrow.”

Helplessly, you stay rooted to your spot as he bends down to kiss your hair. His lips linger for a short while before he pulls away and vanishes from your line of vision.

You don’t dare move from the bench as you attempt, almost in vain, to curb an incoming panic attack. You squeeze the hem of your coat as you hyperventilate, mentally berating yourself for falling for his trap.

How could you have been this stupid? You just had to ignore every ounce of your subconscious telling you just how nefarious and dangerous this man is that you’ve willingly entangled yourself with.

Everything about your friendship with Coriolanus Snow – every moment spent with him, every word exchanged, every gift he’s ever given – all of it, a spectacular performance, a cunningly planned-out charade designed to lure into his clutches.

Think of Sejanus, you try to soothe yourself. Of his warm hands holding yours, of his warm hugs, and his soft lips as he stole your first kiss...

Your grip on your coat relaxes eventually and your breathing evens out, replaced by frustrated tears and trembling hands.

As you stare into your cup of now-melted ice cream abandoned on your side of the bench, your mind draws a blank, except for a single, all-consuming thought. You still haven’t proven whether or not Coriolanus Snow had your only true friend killed, but you’re sure of one thing now: he was never innocent.

His old self would’ve killed you without question.

The old self he had left behind in the dense forests of District 12 would’ve had a raging fit before he led you somewhere and either shot you or smothered you or poisoned you to death – probably all three, in no particular order – at the mere insinuation that he had a hand in Sejanus’s death.

But he wasn’t his old self, so the fact that it was coming back to potentially bite him like Lucy Gray’s snake only slightly disarmed him. What he is concerned more about is how you, of all people, managed to connect the dots, even if you hadn’t accused him outright. He had gone to great lengths to ensure that it stayed buried, so he’s sure you had almost come to the correct conclusion purely because of your intellect and intuition. He has to admit, you are impressive.

He isn’t his old self. His old self probably would’ve had qualms about digging into dead people’s things and stealing anything of value. But before he returned Sejanus’ belongings to the Plinths, he had all but combed through every crevice, nook and cranny for anything that may prove useful. His new self had been wise enough then to keep that peculiar letter Sejanus had penned, but never got to mail, addressed to you.

He had a hunch about its significance, but he wasn't completely sure until your conversation at the bench that afternoon. It was a little gamble, mentioning that letter, but one that he knew he had already won the instant he saw your face drain of colour at his mention of dandelions (a rather perplexing choice of code). There it was, your little blind spot, exposed so plainly to him. So, ever one for efficiency, he went on further and pushed you a little more to confirm his suspicions: Sejanus had potentially revealed to you his intent to rebel, and you had kept the knowledge to yourself.

Snow landed on top yet again: he had gained the upper hand. A shiver of excitement goes through him at the thought. He’s already used it to get you to work for him – he wonders what else he could have you do for him. You, at his mercy, submitting to his every whim...

This little mistake of yours could prove convenient for him. Gaul had since added more to his lists of tasks. In addition to keeping up appearances by way of dating, she had assigned him to investigate the progress of a top-secret computer program being developed by Acacius Innis. The project has had almost zero progress since its approval, and he is to find out why. And, thanks to his snooping around with your handwritten notes, he had concluded you had a hand in the project as your uncle’s apprentice. He had been charged to keep you close so you could work for the Citadel in Acacius’s stead just in case he proves he’s outlived his purpose.

Now? He’s got three of these tasks all but crossed out, just because you had let your emotions for Sejanus get the better of you.

You should have never mentioned Sejanus to him. That’s an error of yours he’ll have to make you pay for. If there’s one thing he and his old self had in common, it’s the fact that they’re both extremely jealous men to a fault. The drug addict Theophilus Braun figured this out the hard way. Coriolanus Snow can’t have his girl making mistakes for and because of a dead man; you should’ve known better.

You’re his girl. His girl, his bride, his wife.

And by the day after next, he’d make it clear to everyone in Panem, including you, that you are his – taken, off-limits, spoken for. He should’ve done this sooner in retrospect. You’d know by then that you had no business talking or even thinking about any other men, dead or otherwise. You’d figure it out for yourself, you’re smart. It didn’t matter now that Acacius Innis rejected Strabo’s and his proposal of arranging a marriage between him and you. Sure, he had allowed himself a bit of time to stew on his anger at your uncle, but if he gained something but that poorly orchestrated exchange, it’s the fact that the Innis patriarch is fiercely protective of you. An immovable giant, finally revealing its underbelly by accident.

Now, unlike his old self, he’d never let you out of sight or try to gun you down in a crazed frenzy; he’d never allow you to leave his side, and he’d put your useful abilities to work. In turn, your work would be displayed at the Games for the Capitol to admire, and everyone would know that Coriolanus Snow’s girl is more than a fancy arm decoration being paraded to the press and looking pretty at galas.

Coriolanus sighs as he gets inside his apartment. He comes home to the calming sound of quiet, and, making a beeline to his walk-in closet, he puts down the two sizeable boxes he had just picked up from the receptionist. A last-minute request he made to his tailor, conveniently delivered to his new address. He takes his shoes and his coat off and wastes no time inspecting the contents of the smaller box.

What he’s anticipating to see is the dress he had made for you. It has to be nothing less than perfect: it’s Strabo’s birthday party and the Capitol’s richest are going to be there. He had been meaning to formally invite you in person, but he knew he had to be wise about it and not give you room to decline. This is part of your training as his soon-to-be wife, after all: appearing more social and getting used to attending the lavish parties of high society. He had meant earlier to tell you then, that everything would be taken care of including your dress, but the mention of Sejanus genuinely threw him off. In the end, it seemed like waiting it out was the best choice.

The box’s lid comes off: crimson, just like he ordered. Of course, you had to match his tux. It’s a silk slip, flowy, simple, elegant, and most importantly, accurate to your measurements. Or at least, the measurements he got from your housemaid in exchange for but a small sum.

Another stark difference between him and his old self: he isn’t the poor, malnourished, helpless kid who had to settle for scraps and keep up appearances. He has a limitless amount of resources within his grasp now, and he uses all of it to his advantage: this luxury penthouse apartment, allowing him to finally live peacefully by himself, these finely tailored clothing he had grown partial to, even to pay off the maid who had been happy to go behind your back to take your dress size – all of these he now could afford, and more. His old self would’ve turned green with envy.

He’s satisfied with the handiwork despite the rush, and he could already imagine you wearing it for tomorrow: the way you’d turn in it, the way you’d dance in it, the way hungry, envious sets of eyes would ogle at you while he snakes his arm around your waist...

Normally, he hates the thought of having anyone’s lustful eyes on you, but he supposes that’s the price he has to pay for wanting to show you off.

Maybe after the party, he’d bring you here, and he’d get to tear the dress off you, or simply pull it up to your waist and fuck you in it as you’re bent over his work desk...

He isn’t his old self anymore. He didn’t have to suppress these desires in the confines of his own solitude. He makes one phone call, and a woman arrives at his apartment within ten minutes. He was specific with his request: he wanted one that resembled you – except she doesn’t compare to your beauty or your grace. Of course, no one does.

At least she’s wearing a red slip dress like he instructed.

He fucks the whore that night, thinking of you splayed out for him in various ways, wearing that silk crimson dress. It’s quite easy for him to imagine that it’s you because he fucks her face down – in his little fantasy, it’s you he takes several times; that it’s you underneath him, moaning and screaming out his name and begging him to fill you with his cum. He makes her leave immediately after a hefty payment, making a mental note to tell the maid in the morning that the sheets would have to be changed. Having aired out his pent-up urges, he does more work in his home office until he can barely keep his eyes open.

His old self is long dead and gone, and he takes comfort in that as he finally gives in to exhaustion.

The aroma of hot dark chocolate reaches your nostrils and somehow provides a little comfort for what has turned out to be a long day. It’s almost one in the morning, and not a wink of sleep has grazed your presence, so you’re hoping this little treat is going to help put you to bed so you can go back to dreaming of screaming birds, dead first loves and singing peacekeepers.

On impulse, you traipse to your uncle’s office, noting how his dim desk lamp is still on. Not an uncommon sight these days, to have him still awake in the dead hours of the night for many reasons – some of which he refuses to share with you.

You enter his office on a whim; you can’t sleep anyway, might as well.

You also need to talk to him about…that thing. The one Coriolanus asked you to do.

You find your uncle with his face scrunched up in absolute concentration over a chessboard.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks lazily, his cheek resting against his palm on the desk.

You simply shake your head. You offer to make him a cup of hot dark chocolate, which he refuses by a mere gesture to the three colourful mugs sitting near the edge of the table, only obscured by the lamp light not hitting that part of his desk.

“Can I?” you question him, referring to the chess game he seems to be currently playing by himself.

Uncle Cas lets out a hum. “I thought you’d never ask.”

So, you sit and observe the board, assuming black. White is currently in a solid position, having total control of the centre of the board. Your uncle takes his rook to f-one.

You move a pawn to a-four. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Your uncle just makes another humming noise absently as he takes a pawn to f-four. Your pawn captures it immediately.

“You got promoted. Head of the new Cybersecurity division and all that...”

He just raises his eyebrows in derision. “Yeah, lucky me,” he says under his breath as he takes the same pawn of yours with a rook. “How did you find out?”

“Coriolanus told me this afternoon.”

The both of you quietly play your game, your attention dwindling until you notice you’re actually putting pressure on the opposition.

“Uncle, how do I win against an enemy who clearly has all the advantages?” you ask quietly.

For the first time since the game, your uncle looks up, now mildly interested. “Hm. What’s the end goal of this game?”

“End goal?” You’re distracted as your pawn takes his knight. “You defeat the opponent’s king.”

“No, plumcake, the real end goal.”

To focus, you rub your forehead as you scramble for a defence.

“That’s the key,” he continues. “Find out what your enemy wants and use it to gain the upper hand.”

Licking your lips, you sip some of your rapidly cooling chocolate as you watch his queen threaten your position. After a pause, you inquire, “What if I’ve never played a game like this before?”

“Then, prepare to be on the defensive when necessary,” he says thoughtfully. “You’re an Innis. You’ll figure something out.” He takes your pawn on f-five with his rook.

You heave a sigh as you prepare yourself to reveal the truth. It doesn’t matter how he reacts to it, it’s out there now. You made the wrong move, despite his warning, and you’ve nothing left to do but to own it.

“Uncle, Coriolanus wants me to transfer my apprenticeship to him.” You wait with bated breath for him to react.

Uncle Cas stitches his brows, encasing the lower half of his face with his palm. The lines on his face are evident now more than ever; you note how recently he’s lost some weight, and his cheeks are more indented than you can remember even with all that sugar in his diet. His eyes meet yours, his dark circles accentuating his serious expression.

Guilt washes over you. You’re partly to blame for his stress.

“Very well.” He bobs his head once in comprehension. He wordlessly goes back to the game, capturing your knight on e-four using his bishop.

Another thing you appreciate about him: his acuity allows him to read the situation in almost an instant.

“Tell him I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he tries anything funny.”

And just like always, he still manages to make you laugh despite everything.

You move your rook to e-four, on the defensive. “I thought you preferred breaking their legs?”

He just shrugs comically and quips, “I’m the head of Cybersecurity, I’m all about efficiency now.”

Suppressing a chuckle, you observe his rook take f-seven while you transfer your now-vulnerable queen to b-six. The white king, now on h-one, prepares for the endgame. You take your rook from e-four to e-one in what you can now foresee as a futile attempt at mitigating the attack.

Uncle Cas has a point, as always. Moving on the defensive can be an option. After all, you know Coriolanus’s goal now: he wants the program completed, and he wants you for the task. You can just opt to do whatever he wants as quickly as possible, and then cut him out of your life for good.

The white queen finally makes her move to g-six, so you take your bishop to g-seven.

Maybe, you can even opt for the offensive: figure out a way to keep Coriolanus Snow’s slimy hands off the program without alerting him.

The white queen all but slays your poor bishop on g-seven.

Your uncle leans back on his computer chair and declares, “Checkmate.”

“Ah, fuck.” Perhaps you’re not cut out for these kinds of games.

“Language, plumcake. Another one for the road?”

He rearranges the pieces for a new round. He wiggles his eyebrows with a wide smile and adds, “Winner gets the last pint of cherry chocolate chunk ice cream in the freezer.”

You grimace at the thought. “I think I’ve had just about enough ice cream for today, Uncle. How about White Knight’s angel food cake?”

His eyes light up at the challenge. “Oh, you are so fucking on.”

“How come you get to curse, and I can’t?”

He snorts haughtily at your complaint. “It’s unbecoming of a lady.”

He makes the opening move. Pawn to e-four.

Let the games begin.

Enter Level 6

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

Next level includes a ball/party scene because I can't resist, despite risking the cliché 😂😅

Also, the chances of me updating as quickly as I have for the past week is getting slim, what with work now getting busy and mostly the next levels getting more complicated plot-wise. Damn plot be getting out of hand when all I want them to do is fuck 😅😂😭 but I think weekly updates are still feasible...we'll see!!

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons 🫂🩸

Day 14 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - some NSFW included**

Also available on AO3!

My headcanons of the Papas taking care of you while on your period

Primo

Does not fully understand how painful it is for you, but shows empathy all the same, knowing he’d never want to experience it himself

Holds you in his arms, rubs your shoulders and back, and kisses your forehead

Brings you a heating pad and hot chocolate or tea, or anything in particular you’re craving

He is absolutely fine not having sex or receiving BJs from you and does not bring it up unless you seem particularly keen

Gives you his own edibles made from Ministry-grown marijuana

Stays up to watch a movie with you, holding your hand while you’re curled up in pain but quickly falls asleep next to you

Secondo

Has a stockpile of necessary items for all his ghulehs - pads, tampons, pain meds, heating pads, snacks, etc.

Is usually known throughout the Ministry to have extra tampons under his bathroom sink in case you run out or forgot to put one in your purse

Already has towels down on the mattress and is prepared for sex to get messy

Is fine with getting blood on his dick but prefers to shower right after

He’s also perfectly fine to eat you out

Gives you lots of kisses whenever you want

Massages your back

Terzo

First, curses the universe for punishing you simply for having ovaries and a uterus. Second, praises Lucifer that you’re not pregnant.

Will gladly go to the store to get you anything you want or need, but definitely buys the wrong thing (“Babe, what size pussy do you own?” and proceeds to buy the wrong kind of pad anyway)

Drives you to McDonald’s at 3AM because you woke up hungry and craving fries (because oddly so did he)

“Wahoo, blowjob week!”

Keeps saying “You know the cure for your pains, eh? *waggles eyebrows* The feeeemale orgasm!”

Fucking LOVES the sight of your blood on his dick

Excited to go down on you

Enjoys quiet movie nights when you’re not feeling up to sex

Cardinal Copia

Gulps and gets a little nervous

The sight of blood makes him woozy

He’ll still run to the store for you to get what you need, but gets lost and only brings back half of what you asked for (“They didn’t have it!” he’ll claim, sure that he checked everywhere)

Tells you a story about how one time in elementary school some kid kicked him in the balls so he understands your pain

Nervous about having sex and seeing blood but he would try anything for you if you really wanted to

He’d prefer to make you happy in other ways like giving you snacks and back rubs

Dracopia 🧛

“Your cunt looks especially delicious, tesoro.”

Celebrates your body’s natural cycles and praises Lucifer

He already knows your menstrual cycle and knew you were about to start it before you did

Has pain meds blended up in a smoothie for you

Tells you he didn’t buy tampons at the store because you don’t need them *wink*

Practically cums when he smells fresh blood on you

“You are so wet~” “Copia, it’s blood.” “Ehh, yes I know”

Eats you out like a champ

Popia

He drops whatever he’s doing and goes to the store immediately to bring you snacks and tampons

Gets you whatever snacks you desire and eats half of them

Texts you every step of the way in the store (“Okay I walked inside…okay I turned to the right…10 steps down the…3rd aisle? Okie dokie!”)

Content to just cuddle and watch movies with you

Also content to get blowies but particularly curious about going down on you and how different it might be than usual

Nihil

Still thinks you can’t get pregnant on your period

Thinks you bleed out of your pee hole. Actually, he thinks your vagina is also your pee hole. Actually he doesn’t know. There are 3 holes?!

Grumbles, not understanding your pain, but you return home later and a single rose and some pain meds lay on the nightstand with a Hallmark greeting card that says “get well soon” - he’s too out of his comfort zone to buy pads or tampons

Won’t touch your vagina unless you’ve just showered, but will gladly hint at getting a blowjob

When/if you do have sex he wears it like a badge of honor as if he’s just gone to war and braved some unspeakable fate, almost expecting to get praised for doing so

[unrequitedloveletter]

Kaz Brekker x Shy! Fem! Reader Headcanons

All right! This one was requested by @whitejxsmine​ and, in an effort to keep the note short and sweet, I’m going to apologize for how short this set of headcanons is, given how long it took me to see the ask she’d originally sent, and also, raine, if or when you see this, I am so sorry again for how long these took! 

Fic type- this is entirely fluff!

Warnings- one singular mention of death

Kaz is exactly the type of person who literally won’t notice if you don’t talk or are a generally shy person for a few weeks, I would think

He definitely gets lost in his own thoughts a lot and is never really one for words himself so when others are ALSO not talking, it’s not something he picks up on as quickly as someone like Jesper or Nina might 

Even after it gets pointed out to him he’s just like “she’s not one for words. What does it matter?” and that’s kind of just it

he’s also like, super observant so he learns to read your body language pretty quickly, and you end up learning to read the one man who everyone in the Barrel always claims to be unreadable as a result

A lot of your relationship is that, actually. Knowing and understanding each others limits and managing to find good communication even when you’re not in the mood to communicate verbally. 

It’s also a lot of give and take, a lot of “you hurt her, you die” and even more I will glower at you in silence while you threaten his life until you finally get the fucking point

Kaz doesn’t mind that you’re shy and not really outgoing, either. He’s more content at home planning heists as it were and after a while, he literally just expects to find you on the windowsill in his office reading a book. 

Speaking of books, though? Jesper makes fun of him for it but he goes to the bookstore every few weeks and leaves his findings on the bookshelves in his office. 

His goal is ALWAYS to find books he thinks you’ll enjoy because he’s trying to be subtle about wanting you to spend more time with him and he also just can’t really find the words to express it.

SPEAKING OF HIS OFFICE (I know we weren’t but backtracking is a thing that we do from time to time so shhhhh)

Kaz has a coffeemaker in his office. That is established in literally EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FICS because why would he spend kruge on coffee everyday when a coffeemaker is a one time purchase and coffee grounds are a bi-weekly purchase or a monthly purchase if you buy enough in one go? Kazzle Dazzle is smart about his finances and coffee is how he’s capable to run off of so little sleep so of course he’s going to have a coffeemaker

I’m getting sidetracked and before I do, he has a coffeemaker but a few weeks into your relationship he buys an electric kettle (I have no idea if they’d exist in the era that the grishaverse is set in but we’re going to pretend they do) a box of the tea you like, and a mug

If you’re a coffee person rather than a tea person, though, he makes note of what blend you like best and the additives you use for it and buys them whenever he restocks his own

He also gets you a mug if you’re a coffee person (and they say chivalry is dead, but it’s not)

generally, though, your relationship is just really sweet and not one people pick up on a lot because the ways that you show affection as a shy person with an introverted partner aren’t usually grounded in verbalities like “I love you” but more so looks and simple understanding.

[makoodles]

(okay i know youre sick so pls rest up!!) as kind of a comfort hc prompt thing, how do u think any of the boys would act when youre sick? like if they would bring gifts or fret or etc. feel like all of them would lose their minds

thank you my loveeeee i definitely need this today lol

🍓 jake is gonna be the most sensible, i think. he was a human once, he knows how this shit goes. he'll be sympathetic for sure, cooing and stroking your hair. he's also the most willing to indulge in a blend of human and na'vi medicine to help you get better. can't cook for shit, but he'll try to make a nice soup to make you feel better. luckily for you, mo'at slaps at him and takes over. he'll actually really enjoy taking care of you; his own duties as olo'eyktan can be stressful, so don't be too surprised if he takes this as an excuse to lay out next to you and nuzzle into the top of your head. all in the name of helping you feel better, of course

🍓 tsu'tey is gonna be damn near insufferable. human illnesses are so far out of his realm of experience, and he hates it so much. this man is stressed the entire time you're unwell. definitely takes your illness personally - human immune systems are so weak, and they're not something that he can tangibly fix. it drives him crazy. he'll do whatever you want during this time tho. he's gonna be so damn attentive, willing to do whatever you ask. he'll be spoon-feeding you, he'll carry you to and from the bathroom (your protests fall on deaf ears; he's helping you). his visits to mo'at border on harassment, so you'd better hope you recover quickly or the tsahik might just beat your man down. when you do get better, he takes it as a point of pride - it must have been all his tender care, after all

🍓 tonowari is an angel. i want this man caring for me all the time, not just when i'm sick. he's just so damn soft; both in manner, and physically. he's just a big daddy at heart (daddy is a state of mind), and caregiving comes naturally to him. he's only too happy to provide cold compresses if you have a fever, or whatever medicine you need. and that lovely wide chest and soft muscled belly is just so wonderful to lay your head upon as he offers soft forehead kisses.

🍓 quaritch is not a soft man. no cuddles or kisses or any of that shit for this guy. he ain't getting sick, not with that billion dollar body of his. he's got shit to do, and he doesn't have time to be playing nurse. he's vocal about the fact that he's not gonna be roped into taking care of you too, but his actions... don't always match up with his words. he'll be complaining about how goddamn irritating it is that you're sick, but his big hands are so gentle when they brush your hair back, so cognizant of their new strength. he'll loudly declare that he's so busy, he doesn't have time for any of this nursemaid shit, but when you wake up from your little naps you'll always find soup or toast or tea on the bedside table. he's grumpy about it, and definitely not as sympathetic as the others above, but he'll care in his own way