#and i could hear them from my room comparing me to one of my cousins? bc we're the same age

[hesperidia]

i hate surprise visits with a passion but the thing i hate more is my mom complaining about ME to said visits

[thatfreshi]

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Rhaenyra x reader with incest if it hasn’t already been crossed out?

Baby teeth (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Cousins. You hate them or you love them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Warnings: Incest. One use of Daddy.

Requested: Yes! The first one I fill, too. Here you go! I hope you enjoy this, since it’s my first time writing Rhaenyra.

There is something dangerous about the boredom of young maidens. That’s what Septa Marlow used to say. Rhaenyra never understood it properly. Not until now.

As you entered the Hall, hot in Daemon’s heels and with an expression of absolute contempt, she wondered what could possibly be your reason for coming. It was well known that you two weren’t friends. Viserys and Daemon made actual efforts to keep you apart, after a particularly nasty episode during your shared childhood.

Even at four years old, you were a nasty little thing. All the worst parts of Daemon and Rhea Royce, rolled into one. Rhaenyra had taken your favorite doll, arguing that she was a Princess and so deserved to have it. You had dug your little baby teeth into her calf so hard, she still wore the evidence of your wrath.

Back then, Rhaenyra had wailed for hours, as Viserys rubbed her back. Daemon had tried to get you to apologize, and you had just stuck out your little chin defiantly and refused to budge.

“It was mine.” You had said. Daemon, new to parenthood and not sure about how to handle you, had passed you to his wife. They had argued for hours, screaming for the whole Red Keep to hear. Daemon said your mother hadn’t raised you right. Rhea had screamed back that you had inherited his nasty nature.

If she had to choose a memory to define your personality, she would pick that afternoon. Demon child that you were, you had sat outside their room, playing with your doll. Rhaenyra never again forgot your triumphant smile.

About to become a married woman in less than two days, Rhaenyra finally understood what Septa Marlow meant about boredom of young girls. It was not achieved in an exemplary show of self reflection, no. Exempt as she was now from those silly lessons, Rhaenyra barely gave it more thought than she gave to her childhood bedtime stories.

It was from looking at you, that it started to make sense. Not because you were purity, respect, and shy subservience all incarnate, but because you weren’t. When Viserys had felt like a particularly invested parent, he used to compare you to her.

“Look at your cousin.” He would say. “Daemon tells me she is great at the harp. And she attends to the Sept daily.”

It had fueled her to be better. Because she hated you. She despised you. You had bitten her, like some sort of feral cat. You were not a Princess, but a mere Lady, yet seemed to show her in every area that you dedicated yourself to, according to Viserys.

Either Daemon had lied to him, or he had lied to her. Because did a proper lady show up to a wedding in a black and bronze dress cut in the dornish fashion? No, she did not. Yet as you walked towards the high table behind your father, Rhaenyra could not help but admire you. There was a confusing beauty in your exposed arms and collarbones, in the barest hint of a thigh that could be seen from the side when your gown moved.

It was a surprise to no one that Daemon crashed the wedding. After all, it was in his style to do so. No one bated an eyelash at it. Instead, all eyes were on you. Your gown was a statement if Rhaenyra ever saw one. House Royce stood proud today, not House Targaryen.

She wondered what Daemon thought about it. Not only were you wearing a risqué gown, but you were making a declaration. You were the daughter of Rhea Royce, and you wouldn’t be silenced. A brave stand, especially if the rumors were to be true.

Rhaenyra had heard about it, of course. Your mother’s passing and the alleged hand Daemon had had in it. You looked to be the only one looking for justice for Rhea Royce. Rhaenyra understood the feeling well. Too often, Targaryen men disregarded women in favor of advancing their ambitions.

Hadn’t Daemon done that to her in a ploy to get her off the race for the Iron Throne? Left her there, standing in the middle of a brothel, possibly to face her ruin? She betted he would have not been so happy, so easily pulled away, if it were you in that brothel. He would have burned it down and salted the earth to protect his little dragon.

You were oblivious to it, of course. But the only time that Daemon had been in agreement with Otto Hightower had been when Viserys shyly suggesting taking you as a wife. The row had been explosive, or so she had been told. One arguing that he was King and could do as he wished, Otto screaming it was giving Daemon too much power, and Daemon screaming that he was a perverted old man.

He had not seemed to care about the age difference so much in regard to her, though. Hypocrite. Yet love had a way, it appeared, of bending one’s moral compasses. Or making one grow one, in the case of Daemon.

She envied you for that, too. While Viserys had been willing to pawn her off to an old man or a child, Daemon had been insistent on finding you an age appropriate match. It was why you were still unmarried, despite being only two years younger than her.

As her father pulled a chair for you and Daemon to sit, Alicent made her own entrance, wearing a green gown. The same color Oldtown lit up in when Hightowers went to war.

“It seems she has outdone me.” You pouted, towards no one in particular. Your voice was different from what Rhaenyra remembered. Deeper and accented. You spoke in the clipped tones those in the Vale had, more proper for calling horses than noble speech. It reminded her of her mother.

“It’s my wedding, cousin.” Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at you. Why did you have to show off all the time? You came in here, looking more like a Royce than a Targaryen and had to flaunt it in everyone's faces. “Neither of you are supposed to outdone me.”

“Girls, girls.” Her father placated, placing a hand on her arm. Rhaenyra glared. You glared at her, right back. “You both look gorgeous tonight. No need to fight.”

“Ah, right. How could I possibly forget?” You whispered, right back. “It’s all about Princess Rhaenyra tonight. And every other night. With my father, with yours…” You trailed off, bitterly. Daemon smiled at Viserys, tense. No one wanted the reminder of what had happened between Rhaenyra and him.

The Velaryons, meanwhile, look between the attendants with polite masks. But Rhaenyra can tell Rhaenys is just dying to say something. She is not very fond of her and your comment has given her the ammunition she needed.

Alicent tries to interject, perhaps redirect the conversation, but Rhaenyra is not listening. All she can see are your defiant eyes.

If you wanted to play, it was fine by her. Rhenyra was more than willing to go a few rounds. Her ego was bruised enough that she doubted anything you could say would actually hurt her. But it didn’t mean she had to tolerate your disrespect laying down.

“Dearest cousin, I notice you growing a bit thick on the hips. Tell me, have you traded the dragon for the horse?”

Lyonel Strong nearly spits out his wine. You give him a sweet smile and then say something that freezes both Rhaenyra and Alicent.

“Oh, not so often as you do. I heard you went riding with your white cloak. Where is he? I thought he might appreciate my dress tonight.”

Rhaenyra sees red. It’s the only explanation because she is dreadfully rude. She throws you the half of a pomegranate, which you gracefully catch.

Viserys laughs awkwardly.

“I think we should begin the feast. The Lady Targaryen is looking famished.”

“Of course.” Daemon immediately caught on, following his brother’s lie. Rhaenyra wanted to slap him. Was it him, who had slipped that piece of gossip to you? “How considerate of my niece for noticing.”

“She has grown into a fine flower. Although not without thorns.” Viserys whispers to Daemon, much to Rhaenyra’s disgust. It’s evident that he is talking about you. Was it only the distance from court, what kept you from taking Alicent’s place? Would her father have married you if Daemon had offered you?

After all, you have all his worst qualities. After nearly tangling in the sheets of the man, Rhaenyra is not afraid to admit it.

As if taunting her, you flash her a feral little grin. Pearly teeth on full display, you bite savagely into the pomegranate. Rhaenyra’s calf throbs in sympathy.

Her eyes are fixated only on you. She ignores Laenor’s attempt at making conversation. There is a drop of red juice gathering on your lower lip. There is a sudden urge to rub her thumb over it. Of pinching the appendix with her teeth and biting until she draws blood, all rabid hound.

Cousins. You hate them, or you love them, there is no middle point. The drop slips lower, towards your chin. You have the manners of a peasant, smearing the juices all over your face. Messy girl.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask a very flustered Corlys Velaryon, licking your lips. Daemon tuts in disapproval, but does nothing. Rhaenys looks on the verge of slapping you, but most men in the hall seem to enjoy the display. Even righteous Criston Cole looks your way for a second.

A droplet of juice travels down, down, down, between your collarbones and towards the valley of your tits. She thinks of biting down the soft hollow of your throat and not letting go until you were sweet. “Cousin, please.” Pretty eyes filled with tears, mouth agape. She can see it so clearly… Blood on your throat, all over that pretty little dornish number… Rhaenyra blinks. A trick of the light, surely. For a second, it looked like you actually were covered in blood.

“Daughter.” Daemon says, and tenderly cleans your lips with a napkin. His hands linger a little too long on your throat. Rhaenyra doesn’t know whether he wants to strangle you or is genuinely trying to clean you up and preventing yourself from making a spectacle. She understands both urges. “Please. Why don’t you go greet your other cousins?”

You give him a sultry look, from beneath your lashes. Another pout.

“Oh, Daddy…” You purr, and it’s clearly not directed at him, but to the man your eyes are fixated on. Corlys Velaryon, yet again shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Daemon clenches his fist. Her father clears her throat and gives Rhaenyra a pointed look. Get her out here, his eyes seem to say. Before Daemon punches your future father-in-law and ruins your wedding. “You are no fun.”

“Cousin.” Rhaenyra says, all high and airy. In truth, she too wants these men to stop looking at you. You are hers. Disrespectful fools, can’t they see you already claimed her? “Care for a dance?”

“Of course, Princess. Thought you never ask.” And you get up, insolent little brat that you are, and take her hand. Was it all a ploy? Were you flirting with Corlys Velaryon only to get her alone?

Insufferable brat, that you are. Of course you were.

She wonders, sometimes, what is it, that you want. You don’t care for her. You are as much of a spoiled princess as she is, yet you refuse to see it. Embracing the Royce side of your heritage favored your delusions of normalcy. Learning to hawk and hunt, riding as well as any man would. You have a dragon, of course, but it wears the Royce’s sigil proudly on its neck, and not one of the Targaryen collars.

What is it that you want? Rebel against Daemon? You resent him, surely. For leaving when you were a mere girl, and showing up to the Vale when you are a woman grown, expecting you to bend to his will. Rhaenyra can understand that. She, too, has been babied by Targaryen men. Not even Daemon, despite his lust, sees her as a woman.

It must make for an interesting dynamic. You are headstrong. So it’s Daemon. In your eyes, he abandoned you and your mother to go fight his little war and then tried to get his marriage annulled, making you a bastard, all in a ploy to bed his niece and take the throne. Said niece is only two years your senior and childhood nemesis.

She has heard you are soon to be married, but not yet to whom. Her father leans towards marrying you to Harwin Strong, son of his Hand. A way to keep Daemon under control. The match is slightly more age appropriate. They had yet to decide the problems of inheritance, though.

Rhaenyra doubts Harwin will want you, a dark, bad behaved thing who is always on edge. She has caught him looking at her more than a few times, and you are nothing alike. Oil and water. Well, more like silver and bronze.

As you walk together towards the makeshift dance floor, hand in hand, the crowd parts for you. Rhaenyra lifts her head, proudly. The music that is playing is fit for a couple’s dance, no doubt playing in hopes of luring her and Laenor to dance.

It will not be happening today, it seems. Because Rhaenyra places you in the line along with the women, taking her place among the men. Your hands feel warm in Rhaenyra’s hands, and she smiles. A true Targaryen always runs hot.

You smile back. Rhaenyra circles you, almost predatory. She drinks you in. The untamed spirit. The bewitching eyes. The bristles of teenage rebellion you have yet to shed.

The best parts of Daemon. What had pulled her in. Yet, not the same. Not at all.

You circle back, eyes narrowed. At the high table, your fathers watch. Both of them are pleased by what seems to be the end of the hostilities. They have no idea how you vex Rhaenyra, with those enchanting eyes of yours. How much she wants to find out what's inside that pretty skull, what makes you tick.

Then, the unexpected. As Rhaenyra extends her hand, about to make you twirl, you twirl her instead. Taking the lead from her. You twirl her, and as she comes out of it, it turns into a battle for dominance again. Rhaenyra starts doing the figures for the male partner a little more aggressively, clapping near your ear and forcing you to move to her will.

You struggle, at first. Then you give in. Sweet little cousin that you are, submitting to your Princess and future Queen. Yet, your smile is as ferocious as ever, shiny teeth just begging to sink into her and pull. Feral. As always.

The dance finishes with the two of you standing close, so close Rhaenyra can count every one of your lashes. Your chest rises and falls, lifting your tits tantalizingly. She thinks of licking the sweat from the valley between them, of biting the soft flesh. Of your beautiful little gasps.

Would your eyes light up in bed the same way hers do? After all, Viserys and Daemon are brothers. Both of you share some subtle similarities. Rhaenyra wonders if laying you down on her bed might be like having sex with her reflection. A distorted one, perhaps.

You stand in black, while she does it in white.

“We shouldn't.” Your voice breaks the spell. Despite your eyes constantly darting towards her lips, which Rhaenyra cannot help but lick, you seem spooked. She brushes a hand against your cheek, softly. Tilting your head just so to kiss you. “This is wrong.” You say, expression delightfully tortured. No matter your protests, you close your eyes, leaning into her.

She is so close to breaking you.

“You are a Targaryen.” It's the wrong thing to say. You pull away from her touch, frowning.

“And you are about to get married.”

“Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.” Rhaenyra presses. She is willing if it means having you. If your ancestor married sisters, why can't Laenor marry cousins?

“Does Laenor look to you like a man who could handle a wife, much less two?” You smile, showing her your canines in a bitter gesture. “My father seduces whores with that same line. Get your own.”

Joyfully, you go, right into Ser Harwin's arms. You start dancing with him. You don't look as good as you did when dancing with her. Your blush and your little giggles seem to put the man under a trance. Rhaenyra scowls. So much for wanting her. Good gods, were his affections so fickle? Were yours?

Wanting entertainment for the night, she glances at Daemon. Ugh. Dancing with that girl, Laena. Men. Always led by their cocks.

She doesn't want Daemon. She is not sure what she wants, in truth. Does she want you because you are so much like him? Or did she want him because he reminded her of you?

What was first, the dragon or the egg?

Rhaenyra is the one with fickle affections, much to her horror. As she stands in the middle of the dance floor, she feels adrift at the realization she has a type. Targaryens. Rhaenyra likes you, defiant little grins and all. But what really warms her blood is the thought of you and her being similar.

Is that what Daemon felt when looking at her? This deep connection, the urge to grab you and pull you away from Ser Harwin's arms, whose hands are straying lower and lower down your back. And you are letting him. You are letting him touch you, and sure, he is handsome. But you are a Princess, even if not in title. You are hers, as much Daemon is Viserys's.

Rhaenyra knows you want her. How could you not, when you looked at her with those eyes? As your own face crept closer and closer, it was clear Rhaenyra was not the only one who wanted that kiss. You had played along.

Now she is dancing with Laenor, making a pretty show. Your eyes track her every movement, despite being in the arms of your soon-to-be fiancé.

Everything is as it is supposed to be. You grin at Harwin, but Rhaenyra knows it lacks your usual strength. You are not at ease with the man and it shows. Oh, what wouldn't she do to pluck you from his arms and dance with you again.

Perhaps there is a way. Rhaenyra hides her smirk, passing it off as a smile to Laenor. As soon as the dance ends, she rushes to your side.

“Dearest cousin, you must stay with us for some weeks.” She says, interrupting you and Harwin. The man looks vaguely amused, a flicker of interest in his dark eyes. “The wedding has me thinking about our mothers, and how soon such a joyous occasion might come for you too.”

“Hm.” You answer, raising your eyebrows. The mention of your mother is a low thing to do, but it's the truth. Look at you, a maiden ripe for the taking. Marriage alliances, enviable prospects, yet motherless.

“I was thinking, as my marriage progresses, I could hope to be of guidance, just as Queen Alicent has been for me.”

“Guidance?” You ask, frowning. Maybe Rhaenyra had laid it a bit thick. She must redirect, less you spook again.

“There is much to be learned about marriage, of course. And it's my duty as the eldest cousin to prepare you for it.”

Ser Harwin's eyebrows raise. You give her your signature feral little grin. She wonders what those teeth will feel like again on her skin. Hesitantly, you place your arm on hers and allow her to pull you off the dance floor.

If you had yet to know or not the joys of the marital bed was no matter. The excuse was as good as any for getting you to stay. Rhaenyra would have to thank Daemon for that one.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#335

“Hey Jay!  Heather is not here.  She’s with her mother shopping for a dress for her cousin’s wedding.  She’ll be gone for the day….  Where are you going?...  No, no.  Have a seat.  There’s a beer in the cooler behind you.  You have any place to be?...  Good.  Kick back.  We need to have a talk….

“You have been Heather’s friend since high school.  You have helped her with her schooling, and I’m appreciative.  You are the only boy we ever allowed her to be alone with in her room.  Look, we know you are cock sucking fag, so she’s not going to be taken advantage.  Besides, her room is adjacent to my bathroom, and I can hear things at time.  All you two do is giggle when you are together.  Fine.

“But recently she’s been feeling awkward having you here.  Last week she asked me to wear clothes that don’t produce a bulge.  It was weird for her and me.  I asked her why, and she said that her fag friend can’t stop asking her about it.  I told her that I would talk to you directly, man to man.  Haha.  Right.  She arranged for you to come here while she’s off with my wife.  Don’t worry my wife doesn’t know.

“You look shocked, like a deer in headlights.  I don’t even need to ask you if it’s true.  I can see it in your face, especially the fact that you haven’t stopped staring at it since you got here. 

“You ain’t the first fag that has been transfixed by my dick.  I’ve dealt with this all my life, in the gym, at the beach… hell anywhere.  This has got to stop.  Seriously, I do not want my daughter feeling weird over my dick.  Going forward, shut the fuck up about it.  I don’t want to have this conversation with you again.  You got that?  Are we good?...  Speak!...  Good. 

“It’s settled.  I’m glad we could have this talk and that we have an understanding….  Where are you going?  Sit your faggot ass back down.  We are not done. 

“I want to know what questions you asked her.  What information did you need to know?...  Again, you are at a loss for words.  Well, the one questions I overheard you ask from my bathroom was how big I am.  Let me tell you, I am eight and a half inches long, by eight inches around.  It’s very fat.  Right now, it’s very soft, nestled in my heavy ball sack. 

“What’s your next question?  You have to have more….  SPEAK!...  Haha.  Thought you would respond to a command from authority….  I am uncut…. 

“Next question?...  I saw that.  I saw you lick your lips.  If your next question, ‘Can I see it?’  The answer will be ‘No.’ 

“I have questions of my own.  Depending how you answer them, I may show you my hog.  How long have you been a faggot?...  It appears you don’t like me using that word.  I can read your face like a book.  No self-respecting gay man would ask a daughter about her father’s cock, but a faggot would.  So, you’ve known for your life?  Thought so.

“How tiny is your wang?  Look, next to me, every pecker is tiny.  But you show no bulge, so even compared to average men, I bet you are smaller than them….  Five inches?  I got to see this.  Take off your clothes.  You see me wearing only a swimsuit.  If we are going to be comparing dick sizes, you need to be dressed the same, or less.

“Thought that would get your attention….  Omg.  That’s not the smallest cock I have ever seen, but it is small.  You’re a bottom, so what’s the point to your prick?  Look, I have always attracted the eyes of faggots all my life.  Hell, I show a bulge in shorts, and they swarm me. 

“Now that you are naked, kneel between my legs.  Grope me.  There you go faggot.  I’m giving you jack off material for years to come.

“I know the minds of faggots like you.  I’ve used them all my life.  Most women can’t handle my dick; they don’t know what to do.  A faggot does.  Do you know how to handle a cock this size? 

“Oh you say that now.  Let me say this.  If your mouth can’t handle it, your cunt will.  I will get rough if I need to.  I am not going to go through all the trouble to settle for a hand job.  You know I am fucking huge.  This is the time to back out….  OK!  I want you to say that you know that after this point you cannot back out…. 

“Good.  Pull down my swimsuit for me….  Told you it was fucking huge.  Stick it in your mouth and go to the root faggot while it is still soft.  Struggle to take it.  Fuck!  This is so not working.  Let’s go into the workshop in the garage.  Your cunt is going to take over for your mouth.  Bring my swimsuit.

“It’s over here.  Bend over the workbench with your cunt in the air.  Put your hands behind your back….  There!  Didn’t expect that hunh?  Bitch I grew up on a ranch.  I did rodeo.  I know how to quicky tie up limbs….  Your legs too.  Now that hole is perfect for a solid pounding. 

“Open your mouth.  My swimsuit will muffle any screams.  I didn’t go for a swim yet.  So you should be tasting my all day leak.  I have been thinking all day about raping your cunt.  Yeah, I had this planned out.  Knowing your obsession with my cock, it was inevitable. 

“Feel the weight of it.  It’s not just heavy, it’s mammoth.  As I lie on your back, my weight will hold you in place.  Lift your head…. 

“With my arm sliding under your neck, let me tell you your predicament.  You are bound in place with a two hundred forty-pound man lying on top of you.  You are not going anywhere.  You have committed to taking my very fat cock in your cunt.  It’s going to fucking hurt.  Hell, it’s going to destroy you.  If you resist too much, my bicep and forearm will constrict around your neck to the point of you losing consciousness.  When that happens, your hole will open up really good.  I would still keep fucking. 

“I would prefer to keep you aware and awake as I want to hear your muffled screams.  I want to hear your suffering.  With my wife and daughter gone for the day, I will be able to rape this hole over and over and over and then send you home with one hell of a gape.  And if you are like any other faggot I have cunted, you will be back for more.

“As you can feel, I am now rock hard with my piss slit lined up with your cunt hole.  You ready?  If not, I don’t care.  It’s coming in…  NOW!  Scream faggot scream!”

[bonesy-doodles]

(Asking on anon bc my ghost blog is my side blog LOL) but I was looking at your post about Copia learning ballet when he was younger and I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. Do you think any of the other Papa's had any other kind of artistic hobbies? I like to think Primo may have really enjoyed painting, when he had the time [from sacred-coffin]

Hiiii! Glad you liked Copia knowing ballet, I'm glad my years of suffering through the Nutcracker Ballet has come in handy (my cousin was a ballerina). But yeah, I took your question to my council (my two wives), and we all came up with several ideas for each of the other Emeritus brothers! Not all of these are exactly artistic, just kinda became general hobbies or things the papas liked to do.

Primo

I am one of those people that does enjoy Primo as a gardener, but not in the traditional sense. His knowledge pertains mostly to poisonous and carnivorous plants, but he also does know how to make a lot of natural remedies because he just finds herbal medicine practices fascinating. Although, only some members of the Ministry actually trust him and his tinctures.

Primo has “accidentally” poisoned a Bishop once. When asked if he knew that he put something he wasn’t supposed to into the bottle, he said “oh Satanas, my vision must be going”. He definitely did on purpose cause the Bishop took a nasty tone with him once.

In his personal book collection, I feel like he has a lot of vintage plant encyclopedias and anything like that for his garden obsession.

Definitely a purveyor of classical music compared to the other Papas, but in the sense he prefers scores that are evil in vibes. Also, definitely can play the violin. He’s not like, perfect at playing, but good enough not to annoy those that can hear it.

I would love for him to have an electric violin, but Primo is the type to always prefer classic string instruments over electric ones. Definitely has like an ebony stained wood violin.

Primo also has a fascination with insects, probably goes along with his plant fascination. He’s definitely into insect pinning and has frames filled with different moths, butterflies, beetles, and downright terrifying insects within his office.

Secondo

This man is a drinks connoisseur, in several ways. Secondo is big into coffee and alcohol. He’s never been the biggest morning person and coffee has basically been his lifeline since he became of Priest in the Ministry. Has all the shit needed for steaming milk and making espresso and all the jazz. I feel like he can even do that milk art and shit, but only spooky or sexual designs. For alcohol, he’s big into mixology. Grade A mixologist here.

Within the Chapter House, where most of the high ranked and important people of the Ministry have their rooms, some of their offices, and big important meetings, there’s also like recreational rooms for them. One of them has basically been claimed by the Emeritus bro trio for their game nights (Uno and other shit), because it has the bar that Secondo has stocked himself. He always mixes the drinks for himself and his brothers.

When he was Papa, his Papal office also had a personal bar.

I feel like this man is big into suits, reminds me of the way NBC’s Hannibal was big into suit fashion. He knows how to look refined and exactly how to pair a suit to tie and pocket square for every occasion. He’s had an extensive closet ever since he was younger. As Papa, he took every chance he could to be out of his Papal robes and Mitre and be in one of his many suits.

In terms of an instrument he knows, I’m not exactly certain, but I’m feeling a big instrument, maybe a cello, string bass, or something else, but its gotta be a deep and thuddy instrument, but I don’t think he plays it anymore. Left it behind as he went up the ranks of the Ministry.

Terzo

This man is a certified film buff. I mean, look at all his music videos. They reference so much. It’s all 1920’s Art Deco, with German expressionism like the Cabinet of Dr. Calgiri, Faust, and Nosferatu, as well as all the early 1900s horror movies like Dracula, Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, etc.

From that era of horror movies, hands down, his favorite movie is Frankenstein, and loves the Bride of Frankenstein.

Alongside that, I feel like Terzo is very into that era of fashion, considering his second stage outfit and the ghoul outfits. Also just fashion in general. Man likes fancy clothes, it’s just unfortunate Sister Imperator didn’t give his version of the Ghost Project for funding.

Another thing Terzo did when he was younger is theater. Musicals, plays, talent shows, you name it. He always loved being on stage, being the lead of the show, its what helped him be such a charismatic Papa.

I feel like his favorite production he ever stared in was Cabaret.

Terzo picked up the guitar when he was younger as well, plays it every now and again, but not as often as Primo plays his violin. (This is so sad, Terzo play Wonderwall).

Totally didn’t fall in love with both his guitarists (totally doesn’t admire their abilities to play the guitar, totally didn’t pretend to be bad at playing guitar so that they would teach him, totally not).

Also, so good at playing the kazoo.

Bonus, Papa Nihil

He picked up crocheting when he was older to try and make gifts for Sister Imperator.

Unfortunately, Copia would have to be a whole other post as there’s a lot I could say about him as he’s my bestest guy.

[flurrys-creativity]

Happy Death Day

Pairing: Ateez (OT8) x GN!Reader; Genre: Royal AU, SMUT, PWP; Rating: nsfw, MDNI, 18+; Warnings: mentions of death sentences, mentions of prisoners, suggestive, oral (m receiving) eight different times, hints of becoming a concubine; Wordcount: 3.528

Summary: Once a month eight princes sat down to discuss the prisoners futures. So when it was your turn and they asked for your statement, you said something that would change your fate.

A/N: Due to someone sharing Ateez royal concept pictures in a server, my brain went wild. And after sharing my thoughts, I promised @sanjoongie to write it out. Also thanks to her as well as @daemour and @potatomountain for helping me figure out some details! As always please enjoy this and tell me what you think!

You silently watched as another prisoner got dragged to their feet and presented to the council of future kings. 

Ever since the old king died without a successor, six families came forth claiming the throne belonged to them. Though as none of them were able to back down, the sons of those families had to come together and work with equal leadership.

Each task the previous king fulfilled on his own was now distributed to the eight possible candidates. Only the biggest tasks were decided on together. Like Death Day.

Once a month prisoners of the country got presented in front of the council for them to decide on their fate. Some received redemption, others got sent back to prison for another month but most got sentenced to death. 

This month you were the last in line to hear your sentence. You watched silently how the other prisoners reacted to their fate - crying, screaming, literally throwing some tantrums. ‘Pathetic’, was the only thing you could think of and with each case you were more and more certain you wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of a similar reaction.

Two soldiers came to your sides and grabbed you by your elbows, pulling you to the front of the large throne room. They dropped you in front of the elevated eight thrones, ignoring how you fell down to your knees and silently groaned in pain.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and got up on your knees, placing your shackled hands on your lap and looking up towards the eight men on their respective thrones.

The thrones weren’t as lavish as the original one behind them. The throne of the old king still stood behind the row of make-shift thrones for the eight men. It seemed to be made out of pure gold and integrated into the floor with plush red pillows to make it more comfortable. 

The make-shift thrones didn’t appear that extravagant. Made out of dark wood and adorned with simple gold applications. Once the new king got chosen the thrones could be removed again as they weren’t connected to the ground.

As one of the men started retelling your supposed sins, you couldn’t care less to listen to it again. Instead your eyes drifted along the men, taking them in silently.

You noticed quickly how they wore similar uniforms. All of them were covered in the colours red, gold and black. 

On the far left from your point of view sat a man, who seemed quite large. He wore a hat, which covered half of his face. Yet you still felt his strong gaze on your form. Prince Song Mingi. His appearance was truly intimidating.

Next to him sat a man whose shoulders appeared to be even broader. He nursed a silver cup in his hand, hiding his subtle smirk behind it. Choi San. He curiously stared at you before he leaned over to his cousin.

Your eyes followed his motion, meeting the expression of a stone-faced man. Choi Jongho. Even under his uniform you could tell he was strong and a man of power. It felt as if every movement of his was calculated - same with calculating everything around him.

While his stare felt unsettling, it was nothing compared to the eyes of the man next to him. Kim Hongjoong definitely had the most unhinged aura surrounding himself. He listened intently to the words of Park Seonghwa, who sat right next to him and read all the information about you from a piece of paper.

He didn’t look up at you, solely focused on his task. Half of his face got hidden behind the paper but you could tell how stunning he looked anyway.

A sudden movement to his right brought your attention further along the line of thrones. Kang Yeosang leaned over to Seonghwa, trying to escape an incredibly touchy Jung Wooyoung with a pressed smile.

Wooyoung lounged on his throne more than sitting on it. His upper body half leaned over to Yeosang, where he tried to grab onto his arm. At the same time his feet dangled over the other side, hitting his overly uninterested cousin every now and then.

Your eyes landed on the large form of Jung Yunho. He rested his chin on his hand and leaned on the armrest of the throne, looking rather bored with the whole situation.

“Y/N?”

Your attention snapped back to Jongho, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Didn’t you listen?” He scoffed and shook his head, ignoring the snickering from some of the other men. “I asked for your statement on this matter.”

You tilted your head and blinked a few times to process the question. “What matter? The matter of my death sentence? Are you truly asking me to make a statement about the way I’m going to die?”

San snorted loudly, covering his mouth and face with his free hand.

Hongjoong looked rather amused. A soft grin playing over his lips.

Seonghwa finally lifted his eyes and stared at you, curiosity getting the best of him.

Even Wooyoung and Yeosang halted their spiel and turned to focus on you.

“So you’re not trying to talk yourself out of it? No heartfelt back story, no bribe?” 

You looked at Mingi, one side of your lips twitching into a smirk. “I didn’t know bribing was an option.” You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you took in the reactions of the eight princes in front of you.

Hongjoong gestured for the soldiers to leave the throne hall with a quick motion of his hand. Once the doors were shut behind them he leaned forward. “Currently your sentence is the guillotine. You’d need a rather good bribe to get out of that one.”

You hummed softly as if contemplating his words for a while. “No guillotine could take away the head I’m able to give.”

San choked on his drink yet again and started heavily coughing, needing Jongho to hit his back. Wooyoung leaned over to Yeosang with a wide grin, whispering something into his ear.

To your surprise though it was another prince, who stood up and called your attention. Yunho quietly walked over to you, stopping only a step away from your kneeling form. “Proof it.”

Your lips curled into a knowing grin. You raised your chin upwards, looking at him through your eyelashes. Even though he didn’t say anything else, his gaze was enough for you to know what he expected you to do.

You scooted closer to him without breaking eye contact. With your chained hands you wandered up along his long legs. With nimble fingers you opened his pants, well aware of the stares from the other princes.

Yunho crossed his arms in front of his chest. He refused to acknowledge the effect your touches and your eyes had on him. 

Another sly grin flashed over your lips. As much as he tried to keep composure, it was the little things that betrayed him. How the muscles on his thighs tensed, how his jaw ticked off or how his eyes got somewhat glassy.

You palmed his hardening dick through the fabric of his undergarments. You licked over your lips. The size underneath your fingertips made your mouth water and your imagination run wild. 

Hongjoong stood up from his own throne. He silently wandered to one side, wanting to have a better view of what was to come. Due to Yunho’s broad frame he wasn’t able to see you at all but he needed to know whether you could hold up to your own claim.

You pulled Yunho’s cock out of his restraints, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the base and pumping it ever so slowly. You moved your head closer to his crotch, kissing along his shaft and up to the head of the dick. 

A soft groan escaped Yunho’s throat and his head tilted back ever so slightly. He needed to focus again and it took him every ounce of self control to look back down. His breath hitched when you opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock.

You forgot about everything and everyone around you, solely focusing on Yunho’s dick. You opened your mouth further and descended on his cock, taking him deeper into your wet cave. 

“Fuck”, Yunho cursed under his breath, all composure forgotten now that you bobbed your head on his dick and looked at him with big, innocent eyes. His breath became more irregular with the fast pace you set.

As if possessed he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you even further down his shaft. The soft garbled noises you made as he hit the back of your throat turned him on even more. 

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and you tried to relax your jaw and even your breathing to accommodate Yunho’s huge cock. Still, whenever he hit the back of your throat you couldn’t stop the gagging sound from escaping.

A string of more curses fell from Yunho’s lips until he suddenly stilled, shooting his load down your throat. 

Out of nowhere Wooyoung appeared in your line of view as he pulled Yunho away from you. He whistled in acknowledgement once he saw your empty mouth when you licked some spit from the corner of your lips. 

“Guess, our little prisoner proved it.” Jongho stood next to Hongjoong, observing the situation in front of him.

“What? No!” Wooyoung hurried to Yeosang and pulled him to your form as well. “Anyone can give head for one person! It gets interesting whether Y/N is able to give even more.” With that he positioned Yeosang right in front of your face and pulled his pants down, ignoring the weak protests of his friend.

Yeosang was already hard but when you glanced up at his face you noticed the deep red blush on his cheeks. He covered half of his face with one of his large hands, avoiding to look at you or any of the other princes. Yet he didn’t try to remove himself from the situation.

You kissed the tip of his dick, relishing in the shiver that ran through his whole body. For a while you only took the tip in, letting your tongue swirl around it and suck on it ever so gently. 

Yeosang whimpered, not even trying to keep silent. His eyelids fluttered shut. More and more tremors of pleasure ran through his body.

To both your surprises Wooyoung grabbed the back of your head and pushed you forward, holding you down on Yeosang’s cock. 

Your nose pressed against his sternum. The sudden movement made you choke around his dick, tears immediately running down your cheeks. You barely managed to breathe properly, feeling a slight sense of panic as Wooyoung didn’t let go of your head.

Yeosang on the other hand couldn’t help himself and came down your throat, moaning loudly with every spurt.

Wooyoung finally pulled you off of Yeosang. Though he didn’t give you any time to recover, pushing his own dick into your open mouth almost immediately. 

Your hands came up to his thighs, keeping you steady during the rough movements. After a few hard thrusts you were able to take over, making Wooyoung a moaning mess. You bobbed your head, varying the pace from moment to moment. Still, you wanted to edge him even more. You carefully pulled back your lips, grazing his shaft with your teeth. 

“Ah!” Wooyoung quivered from your ministrations. His knees wobbled dangerously and his whines became more and more desperate. “Please, fuck, please let me cum.”

You hollowed your cheeks, encouraging him to follow his pleas. Hot spurts of cum trickled down your throat.

Wooyoung came with an outcry. As soon as he finished, he stepped back on shaking legs. A thin line of spit connected your lips to his dick until he reached enough distance.

You observed him a moment longer as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked back at you with half lidded eyes, the pleasure still evident on his features.

“So far our little prisoner only handled one at a time”, Hongjoong stated with a wicked grin. He glanced over at Mingi and motioned him to come closer with a nod of his head.

You watched as both men moved over to your sides. Their height difference made your head spin with imaginations of what was to come. Your eyes switched between both men, barely noticing how they freed themselves and leisurely pumped their dicks. You could only focus on your rapidly beating heart and the heat building inside of your body.

Mingi tapped his dick against your cheek, moving your attention to his long cock. “Open up”, he told you with another tap - this time on your lips.

You followed his command without wasting a second, even letting your tongue roll out. 

“Listens quite well”, Mingi let the others know as he pushed himself into your awaiting mouth. He grunted deeply and placed his large hand on the top of your head, which nearly covered it completely.

Even with his hand on your head, you had to work for him. You chose the tempo and how deep you actually wanted to go. 

But just as you found your rhythm, Hongjoong cleared his throat behind you. He grabbed you by your neck and pulled you off of Mingi’s dick. Hongjoong chuckled at seeing your tear-stained face. “Don’t forget about me, gorgeous.”

You silently shook your head. You’d never forget about him, you wanted to tell him. 

Hongjoong still pumped his own dick, glancing down at himself to indicate you should go to work now. 

While he wasn’t as long as Mingi’s, you still had to relax your jaw while sucking him off. To your surprise though, Hongjoong pushed you away from himself after a moment, motioning for you to focus on Mingi again.

Almost delirious from kneeling between two princes, you felt bold enough to raise your chained hands to use them on Hongjoong’s cock while blowing Mingi. 

You changed between both of them, ignoring how tired your arms got, until Hongjoong commanded you to sit still. 

Mingi and Hongjoong did the rest, only seconds later spurting strings of cum over your face and upper body.

You wiped your face with your fingers and licked them clean right after it. A smile spread over your lips, when you noticed the lustful eyes of the men as they stepped back to make place for someone else.

San’s gaze seemed soft on the surface. He cupped your face, helping you to clean off the cum. He grinned when you eagerly opened your mouth to clean his thumb, silently thanking him for his help.

You swirled your tongue around his digit, looking up at him through your lashes. With every move of your tongue though, you noticed how his eyes darkened and the lust grew more and more prominent. 

San pressed his thumb down on your tongue, smirking when you tried fighting against it. He forced your mouth open. His smirk grew once your jaw slackened. San grabbed his dick with his free hand and rubbed it over your lips, smearing his precum over them.

You wanted to wrap your lips around his cock, wanted to lick along his shaft with your tongue but you couldn’t do anything - just sit there and keep your mouth open for San.

Only towards the end did San let go of your jaw, ordering you to finish him off. 

You wrapped your hands around his base while you hollowed your cheeks to go down on him. You tried rotating your wrists for an extra kick but the limited movements of your hands made the job slightly harder. 

You noticed how San’s nose scrunched up the closer he got to his release. You moved your head back, resting his twitching cock on your outstretched tongue.

San watched how string after string of cum shot into your mouth and pooled on your tongue. He groaned and closed his eyes, throwing his head back until his load emptied out.

With a small smirk you kept your mouth open and moved your tongue around for a bit, playing with his cum before you swallowed it.

You sat back on your heels, licking over your lips. Even though your head and thoughts were spinning, you knew you weren’t done yet. You thought the next prince would simply step in front of you but when you turned your head, Jongho beckoned you towards him.

You pushed yourself up on your feet - the first few steps slightly uncertain from kneeling for quite some time. You walked up the five steps and stopped in front of Jongho, raising one eyebrow as you looked down at him.

Jongho chuckled and simply leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. He looked at you, daring you to blow his mind.

Without hesitation you dropped down on your knees again. Your hands wandered over his strong thighs and up to the waistband of his pants. You giggled softly when Jongho lifted his hips to help you remove his pants. 

His eyes darkened and focused on you even more after hearing your giggle. Jongho swallowed harshly. Somehow - even without your mouth on his dick yet - he understood the reactions of the others.

You started with small kitten licks, fascinated Jongho only made little hums as a reaction. Trying to get even more out of him, you went down on him. You didn’t go slow nor tried teasing him. You simply desired to take all of him in.

“Shit.”

If you would have been able to, you would have smirked upon hearing him curse and seeing how his mask slowly broke down. The second you felt his dick twitching inside your mouth, you inhaled through your nose deeply and then pushed yourself down on him until your nose pressed against his sternum. You stayed in that position and only moved away once you milked Jongho dry.

Seonghwa appeared next to you and gently pulled you up on your feet, smiling awkwardly when your attention drifted to him. His beauty entranced you. 

“You did so well already”, Seonghwa mumbled and guided you a few steps away from Jongho. He had watched the other princes patiently, keeping silent about his painfully hard dick. He had watched how some of them were hard again and simply resumed to please themselves while they watched you intently. Seonghwa though hadn’t touched himself at all.

“I’ll do well for you too”, you whispered back, hands already rubbing over his clothed dick. 

Seonghwa exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He took in the feeling, shuddering from the pleasure running through his whole body. “Please.”

Ever so slowly you got down on your knees one more time, removing his pants and undergarments at the same time. 

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, using your thumb to circle his leaking hole. You looked up to his face, noticing how he bit down on his lower lip. 

He barely opened his eyes - just enough to see you opening your lips and enveloping them around the head of his cock. Seonghwa praised you softly, brushing strands of your hair out of your face over and over again.

Once Seonghwa came, you were barely able to swallow his load before he pulled you up on your feet again and slammed his mouth on yours. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking along your lips, teeth and own tongue as well - tasting his and maybe even the cum of the others. 

His kiss turned your world upside down. Your thoughts tumbled through your head without any control, just like your desire swirled through your whole body. It yearned for more.

After Seonghwa broke the kiss and guided you back to your spot before the eight thrones, you silently stood there - eyes unfocused, breathing irregular and mouth slightly open.

The eight princes had found their respective seats again, sharing meaningful glances between one another. 

“I think all of us can agree that your statement wasn’t just a bluff”, Hongjoong announced, pulling you out of your trance.

“And we’re willing to redeem you.”

“Under one condition”, Wooyoung chimed in and somewhat interrupted Seonghwa, who momentarily glared at him but returned to look at you with a smile and a nod.

“What condition?” You asked carefully, eyeing each of the princes.

“You’ll stay at the palace.” Jongho told you simply.

“Make use of your head.” San had his silver glass back in his hand and toasted it towards you with a wink.

Yunho shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward. “Maybe even more than just your head.” A smirk played over his lips as his eyes wandered along your form.

“We wouldn’t want to send you to the guillotine after all.” 

You straightened upon hearing Mingi’s words. But when you turned your head to look at him and saw a teasing grin on his face, you relaxed again and nodded in confirmation.

Yeosang’s deep voice pulled your attention at last: “I hope you’re ready for what is to come.”

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin

[daffodildelight]

Animagus (Part One) | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Title: Animagus (Part One)

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!reader

Summary: The end of year ball is coming up and you have hidden feelings for Ominis

Themes/Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, insecurities

Word count: 2450sh

A/N: No spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy. The story line for Hogwarts Legacy doesn’t really exist in this one-shot.  

Growing up in a pure-blooded family is quite challenging when you have different political views compared to everyone else. Especially when it comes to blood status, having different beliefs and voicing them in front of a pureblooded family will give you a one-way ticket to abuse. Mentally and physically. I’ve seen it happen to my cousin first-hand, left for dead on an abandoned street corner then endlessly stalked and ridiculed for the rest of her life.

Luckily I learnt my lesson quickly after my parents used the crustaceous curse on me when I was 5 after I tried to make friends with the muggle kids at the end of the culdesac. Even with the worst pain of my life, I never changed my beliefs.

For the first 11 years of my life, I was completely alone. Anyone who comes into the Crouch house was of pure blood with the same ideologies as everyone else. The only friends I was allowed to make were ones from a prestigious line. Unfortunately for me, every child was stuck up so making friends was very hard. But once I had received my letter from Hogwarts I knew my life would change.

-

Along with everyone else in my family, I was sorted into Slytherin. I received a letter of praise from my parents after they found out about the news. But the only thoughts running through my head were ones of solemn because if I had to deal with blood ideologies at home I'd have to deal with them a whole lot more at school seeing as Slytherin house was mainly for pureblood students.

Heading to your new doom room you were introduced to your new roommates including your future best friend Anne Sallow. The two of you were like a house on fire, getting along so well. It surprised you to find out that Anne also held the same values as you and was also pureblooded. You and Anne got on so well that she introduced you to her twin brother Sebastian and his friend Ominis.

When you first met Ominis you fell for him, he was so handsome. Doesn’t matter that he couldn’t see all that mattered was the presence you felt from him. It looked like he could carry himself and wouldn’t let anything get in his way. You knew you had to be his friend at least.

But Ominis took a while to open up to you, Sebastian on the other hand took to you just as well as his sister did. It took months for you to connect with Ominis, you tried everything. But every time you tried to connect with him he would either walk away or look in another direction. It was only when you found out that Ominis was a Gaunt (descendant from Slytherin himself) and that you both hated your families for their views he began to trust you and consider you a friend. And just like that, you guys became a closed group.

-

7 years have passed and instead of liking Ominis, you have come to describe it closer to love. You would sit next to each other in classes, study together, and hang out every day how could you not? Sebastian and Anne both know I have a crush on Ominis and try push me to tell him my feelings but your overwhelming anxiety won’t let you. Because if you do tell him and he rejects you things will never be the same again. Plus he’s never given you any indication that he likes you in that way so you just leave it how it is. But Sebastian and Anne will not let it go.

“Come on (Y/N), he totally likes you back” Anne groans walking down the staircase with her book bag strung across her body she gives you a death glare “You’ll have to tell him sooner or later” she states with the same scowl on her face.

You speak up loudly so both Sebastian and Anne could hear “Over my dead body Anne, why ruin something when it’s already perfect?” colliding shoulders with Sebastian who is on your left. “Because (Y/N) we want to see both you and Ominis happy” Sebastian chimes in with his signature smile.

“But I am happy” you laughed. Swinging your arms around and jumping from the last few steps of stairs into the hallway of the great hall. “Okay now be quiet, Ominous is up ahead and he can hear very well” you whisper to both of them.

You walk up to him and touch his shoulder to grab his attention, he turns around to give you that winning smile that you love so much. “Good morning (Y/N) how was your sleep last night?” Ominis asks while making his way towards the potions classroom making sure to have his wand out and leave room for you to walk next to him. “Very good Ominis, I had a dream about animals last night” you replied with a jump in my step. You love it when Ominis talks to you about your dreams, it makes it seem like he cares about me. Sebastian and Anne follow us closely behind making small talk about the up coming N.E.W.T for charms class.

“That's good (Y/N), I’m happy that your finally getting sleep” Ominis states but before I could ask a question back Sebastian speaks from behind your shoulder. “I could’ve guessed that miles away (Y/N) you’re so predictable” Sebastian laughs before knocking your shoulder with his. You give a sinister giggle back before making your way down another long corridor and turning your head to face the twins, “I am not predictable Sebastian”.

Anne lets out a huge laugh before sliding in between you and Ominis “Oh yes you are (Y/N)! We know you so well, we could probably predict what your gonna have for dinner tonight and what results you’ll get for your N.E.W.T.s”.

You can’t help but think about all the things your best friends don't know about you. Starting off with the biggest secret which is that you're an illegal animagus. Yes, you became an illegal animagus for many reasons the main one being to get away from your crazy family during the Christmas holiday. The second is to explore my surroundings around Hogwarts without being caught and the third is to obviously spy on other people which is easy because your animagus is a tabby cat, which is a common house pet choice amongst others.

You decided to become an animagus after having a transfiguration lesson in your third year about it and became curious, So you read up on how to do it in the library every night for 3 months before you were sure how to do it. The process was painful to complete but in the end, it was worth it because I finally had my own freedom.

Now the reason I haven’t told anyone is that I wanted to keep it to myself. Yes I know if the Ministry of Magic finds out that I’m an illegal animagus I could be expelled or worse go to Azkaban but, to be frank, I couldn’t give a shit. That’s a lie I would care a little bit especially if I couldn’t meet up with my friends anymore.

Focusing back on the conversation you respond to Sebastian with a groan and a “whatever” muttered under your breath. Quickly look towards Ominis he has a small smirk showing and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be able to have him more as a friend.

-

The day slowly finishes with you and the group eating dinner at the great hall. Sebastian and Anne sitting next to each other bickering about who gets the last chicken wing and opposite them are you and Ominis. Anne lets out a loud groan when Sebastian ends up taking the last wing into his mouth, which soon turns into glee when she remembers an important event happening in the upcoming month.

“Are you guys excited for the end-of-year ball after N.E.W.Ts?” she exclaims in her seat. Anne couldn’t contain her excitement which was proven when she starts pestering Sebastian on who he’s gonna take as a date. You can’t help but feel dread about the upcoming ball, because all you want is for Ominis to ask you but that’s not gonna happen because he doesn’t see you that way. It would hurt too much to see him with someone else on his arm as well and Anne isn’t making this any easier.

‘’Who are you gonna take to the ball Ominis? I know you have a few ladies eyeing you up!” Anne gives you a look and wiggles her eyebrows. You know she’s up to something. Ominis speaks up from his spot next to you “Well the person I want to ask will say no so I’m just gonna go by myself.”

Your heart breaks, of course, the person Ominis likes wouldn’t be you but the fact that he likes someone and thinks he doesn’t have a chance is ridiculous. All you want is for Ominis to be happy so the next set of words is like venom to say. “Don’t be stupid Ominis, anyone would be lucky to have you. I say just grit your teeth and ask them. If they decline tell me who they are and I’ll punch their lights out” you give a forced laugh.

You don’t want to know who this lucky person is because you’ll just end up self-deprecating and end up going into a deep depression. So to save yourself you decided to have a walk in the forbidden forest in your animagus. Just so you can take your mind off things. Before Ominis or the twins could say something you stand up from the table and announce yourself. “I’ve got some extra studying I gotta do before the charms N.E.W.Ts comes, I'll be in the library.” you sigh collecting your things from under the table. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” you give the best tone you possibly could before bolting out the doors without looking back.

Heading towards the edge of the forest was a bit difficult because you have to avoid all the teachers and prefects patrolling the castle but never the less you made it towards a clearing. Taking off your shoes and hiding them behind a familiar tree you were ready to transform. During the first times of transforming it was very painful but now you have grown accustomed to it, and there you were a brown tabby heading into the woods for a walk to keep your mind off things.

Minutes turned into an hour and slowly you started making your way back towards the castle. Taking long lonely stairs and corridors back towards the Slytherin common room until you come across the very thing that’s keeping your mind racing. Ominis sneaks around with his wand held high to avoid objects. My guess is he was just at the undercroft with Sebastian.

Now you know you shouldn’t have done this but every bit of your instinct told you to because you were feeling down and Ominis loves cats. Slyly you walk up to his right ankle you give him a bit of a nudge. This gains his attention and reaches down to scratch behind your ear perfectly, Ominis was actually the most perfect person ever. It felt like heaven and before you know it you rolled onto your back to let him give you some much-needed belly rubs. All of a sudden gravity changes and now Ominis is holding you in his arms with your head slotted into his neck. He smells so good and you never want to leave this moment but with all good things, it must come to an end when Sebastian is quietly yelling at Ominis.

“Hurry up Ominis! Professor Weasley is just around the corner!” Sebastian then runs past us down the last corridor door towards the Slytherin common rooms. Ominis follows him with me still in his arms and we make our way into his and Sebastian's door room. You’ve never once seen their dorm room before because of the protective enchantments from the professors but it was basically the same set-up.

“Ominis! Why are you still carrying the cat!” Sebastian stated loudly while Ominis puts me on his bed. “I don’t know, I panicked and just went straight for the dorms like you told me to?” Ominis replies nonchalantly while giving me more pats. I couldn’t be happier. “You know that’s someone's cat right? You’ll have to give them back” Sebastian ruins the mood.

“I know” Ominis sighs in defeat. “I'll keep them for another 5 minutes before I kick them out” he states in a sarcastic tone. Ominis moves his way around onto the bed to give me some more pats.

“I know who your gonna ask to the ball Ominis, she will say yes if you ask. I don’t understand why you won’t.” Sebastian brings up the topic. The one I didn’t want to be brought up while I was here, now I have to listen to Ominis talk about the girl of his dreams while I'm right here unable to leave. A dream turned into a nightmare.

“She’s never given me any indication that she likes me, I don’t want to ask and be rejected because it’ll ruin the flow of our friendship and I can’t risk that” Ominis states in a sad tone. Friendship? Ominis only has 3 friends, unless he’s made a friend without me knowing. Or worse he has feelings for Anne. Your heart struck a nerve just even thinking about it. You wouldn’t blame him for liking her, she’s so carefree and her personality is so attractive. How could he ever like me when she was right there?

“Ominis I know that you’re blind but how can you not see that she’s practically in love with you?” Sebastian sighs. The feeling of heartbreak is what’s going through you right now, you just feel like leaving. Hopping off of Ominis's bed you walk towards the door but not before a life-changing comment was made by Ominis.

“Gotta love those blind jokes Sebastian but (Y/N) could never see me in that way. She could have any witch or wizard she wanted. I mean why would she want a blind boyfriend when she could have anyone? Even then, she doesn’t see me in that context” Silence. Absolute silence. Silence from Ominis because he thinks he’ll never get a chance. Silence from Sebastian because I swore him to secrecy not to tell Ominis I have feelings for him. Silence from me because I think my heart stop.

You knew the one thing you had to do and nothing will get in your way this time.

[morganas-pendragons]

Fruits Of My Labor | Aemond Targaryen

I was blasting Fruits by Paris Paloma when I wrote this and came up with this idea in the shower. This will contain MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HOUSE OF THE DRAGON. IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILED, DO NOT READ IT. I did change two things in this as compared to Fire and Blood. 

Enjoy! I’m excited to see what you guys think. This is my first time writing for this universe other than for Jaime Lannister! 

Edit: This literally took me over a week because having a full time job is so time consuming lol 

You should have known better. You were a true born Velaryon, a daughter of the sea and a fearsome dragon rider. You were smart. Fierce. Deadly. 

But you were also a child. A child who had lost her older brother and sister and mother. 

Your cousins. Your life. 

Your family had been your livelihood for so long that you didn’t know how to live without them. Your mother’s comfort, your sisters compassion, your brothers steadfastness, your father’s loyalty. 

You’d take them in all their faults for even a moment if it took your focus off of what fueled you when they were no longer around: Your anger. 

And oh.. you were so prone to your anger. 

***

Blood and Cheese 

When word got back to you about the atrocities committed against Helaena Targaryen, you were furious. Fuming. It had been a long time since someone had been able to provoke you to such rage. 

You understood, and yet you didn’t. A son for a son. Did Rhaenyra not give any considerations to her half-sister? Aegon may be the subject of her ire, but Helaena Targaryen had done nothing to provoke being witness and victim to such levels of cruelty. 

You couldn’t imagine it. So you made Rhaenyra imagine it for you, while your mother stood in the back of the room and bore witness to the dragon fire that lay deep within you. 

  “The gall you have..” You murmur, drawing Rhaenyra and Daemon’s attention where they stand by the fireplace. “Do you realize what you just did?” 

  “They took my son.” Rhaenyra snaps, harsh and cold, the eyes of a grieving mother staring back at you. “Which is something you could not begin to fathom, seeing as how your betrothal ended so abruptly.” 

Oh. That’s wonderful. So now she’s going to use Alicent breaking off your betrothal against you as well? 

  “No, no I didn’t. But at least my children would have been legitimate,” You snarl. Daemon steps forward to intervene, as he always does when it comes to Rhaenyra, but you slamming your fist against the painted table stops him in his tracks. “Did you even consider the ramifications of this, Rhaenyra? Jahaerys was innocent!”

 “The Greens took Visenya and Lucerys from me. They killed my children. It is only fitting that retribution be paid through the loss of their own son!” 

  “Helaena will never be the same again because of what you took from her! You took your vengeance upon a girl who did not deserve it. She was sweet. Sweet, and good, and loved by the commoners. One of my dearest friends.” You jab your thumb at Rhaenyra angrily, eyes lit by the firelight of the candles around the painted table as the two of you stand off against one another. “You took her child away and ruined her. Whatever blood falls upon us now? That’s on you.” 

Rhaenyra is left to hear one final curse before you flee the room, Daemon’s hand resting upon her shoulder to prevent her from following you. 

Things are never quite the same after that. It’s only days later that Meleys is paraded through King’s Landing and your mother’s body lay broken and unmoving after the Battle of Rook’s Rest. 

There’s no one left to temper your anger. 

So, for the rest of the war, that is what fuels you. Your anger and your grief. 

If it gets the job done, who cares what it does to you? 

Anger always wins. 

***

The last time you saw Rhaenys Targaryen, she’d bid you goodbye with a kiss to your forehead and tucked her favorite cloak around your shoulders. It had always been two sizes too big.

She’d whispered affirmations about your future and how proud she was of you in your ear before she walked out the main doors of Dragonstone to Meleys.

You never saw her again.

***

She died less then 24 hours later.

Rhaenyra was the one who told you about Aemond’s involvement in it.

He’d played a hand.

He’d killed your mother.

***

You spent the days following your mothers death weeping, clutching the fabrics of your favorite cloak she often wore when you were a child in trembling fingers. You mourned her presence. Her comfort. You often wished you could join her just to be free of the Dance. 

To be free of him. 

You were a child, and children are impressionable. That was why you loved him. Even when you truly, deeply loathed him for all the pain he caused you and your family. 

  “My Lady? Are you well?” 

You don’t hear your Lady in Waiting call for you from across the room. There you sit beside the window, frail and well beyond your years, eyes cast upon the waters outside the castle while you linger inside the recesses of your own mind.

The Dance of the Dragons ended a long, long time ago. 

You are the only living survivor.  

Your memories are far more pleasant to live in because they are in all of them. Your family is not reduced to the ghosts you now know them as, but are flesh and blood and so very, very real. 

  “Forgive me, Theah... I was just remembering.” 

  “Remembering what?” 

You smile sadly. Something lingers in your eyes as you meet her gaze - she’s so young and so eager to live a life she hasn’t had the opportunity to greet yet - and you see the same lingering within her own that calls to you. It’s familiar. 

It was the same thing that drew you to Aemond. A desire for adventure, for freedom, for life. 

And well... The Dance kept you confined to your duties and kept you from being able to pursue it. 

  “Remembering a better time, sweet girl.” 

*** 

You remember it vividly. Watching from the scorched beaches while Daemon and Aemond take to the skies above Harrenhal, otherwise known as the God’s Eye, to engage in a fearsome battle neither will emerge from. You know it in your heart of hearts. 

A more innocent part of you that still lingers deep inside aches to go to him. To make him see reason, to convince him to surrender to Daemon and Rhaenyra and just... stop. 

To just let it go. The Green’s haven’t been able to do that once since the Dance started, to submit to the succession of Viserys the First would mean abdicating the throne. 

Otto would never let it stand. His lust for power and influence over Alicent had gotten Aegon the throne and plunged the realm into war over the true successor of the Iron Throne. 

The battle descending from the clouds above you is beautiful, in an incredibly tragic and devastating way. 

Daemon and Aemond are locked in a terrifying battle as they plunge from the clouds, Caraxes and Vhagar desperate to bring the other down first. You watch the dragon’s stomach be torn open. The other ripped at the throat. You can’t bring yourself to look away. These two had been friends once. 

You know there’s nothing you can do to prevent what is about to happen. They both brought it upon themselves. Aemond Targaryen brought this painful, agonizing end upon himself with his involvement in the Dance. 

Your breath catches as Daemon rises from his saddle and lunges across the gap to drive Dark Sister into Aemond’s other eye. There’s nothing you can do. You weren’t even permitted the ability to take part. 

The commoners had seen to that themselves.  They'd mercilessly killed all the dragons who remained in the dragon pit. The numbers were dwindling, growing fewer and fewer as the Dance progressed. Four had fallen. Tyraxes, Morgul, Dreamfyre, and Nightshade. 

When Rhaenyra wailed over the death of Joffery - barely a boy, thrown from Syrax for trying to flee to the dragon pit and rescue his birth right - you were simultaneously crying over the agonizing pain that seared through heart, body, and soul at the loss of your dragon. 

By that time in the Dance, you’d lost nearly everyone within the Blacks. All that remained was your father and Rhaenyra, who were at odds anyway. They had been ever since Rook’s Rest. 

Was this your curse? The last of your House, destined to outlive all the others? Is this what the fruits of your labor as the youngest child of House Velaryon had gotten you? 

It’s over before you realize it. 

This was where they fell.

***

  “What time could have been better? You spent so much of your life engaging in war. You are practically a veteran to it,” Theah absently remarks from your bedside. “I do not envy you. War is-” 

  “Debilitating. Agonizing. Crippling.. suffocating. War tore my Houses apart at the seams and took away everything and everyone I loved,” You interject. “I was thinking about when I was barely a woman grown, not longer after being betrothed to Aemond Targaryen.” 

  “Anything specific?” 

It’s always something specific with your memories with Aemond. They usually take you to the same two places: A little run down shack on the cliffs above the sea, not too far from Driftmark. 

The other is a field of endless wildflowers. 

  “The first time Aemond ever took me away on dragon back was not long after he’d claimed Vhagar. We’d disappeared in the middle of the night from the guards posted outside my door, and I’d guided him back to Driftmark to this little house my mother spent a lot of time in before she married my father. It was very out of the way.” You twist the ring on your finger as you speak, the fading memory of your mother’s face flashing in front of you as you do so. The ring is the last thing you have of Rhaenys. “We spent the night there. I told him I wanted to do it forever. That I wanted to leave behind duties and obligations to experience something I never really got to have. Not like my sister and brother did. My mother doted over me far too much.” 

  “And what was the thing you never got to have?” 

You smile wryly. “My freedom, sweet girl. As I am sure you well understand.” 

Theah goes quiet for several minutes. She was brought to you by Aegon the Third not long after the two of you had met. Once he’d read his mother’s last testament - found in her former chambers in the Red Keep after her death - and found your name written within, he’d sought you out and gave you a Lady in Waiting. It had been freedom for Theah. Being your Lady had gotten her away from the brothels. 

You’d thanked both Viserys and Aegon profusely after that. She may be the only soul left in this world sympathetic to your plight.  

You’d never anticipate them traveling from King’s Landing to Driftmark to see you.

  “Did you think it would last? Your betrothal?” Theah asks. 

 You did. Aemond didn't. He knew the Targaryen customs, he knew his duty. He knew Aegon didn’t want to marry Helaena. 

Alicent had also seen how much you meant to her son.

And that could not stand.

  “I would’ve burned down the world to hand its remains to Aemond Targaryen if he’d asked me to,” Something shifts in your gaze then, something cold and hard and unyielding that most have not seen in you before. It was something you’d only learned to embrace during the Dance of Dragons. “And then he betrayed me.” 

Theah furrows her brow in confusion. “What did he do?” 

Lucerys’ innocent face replaces that of your mother. Another soul lost to the war so many years ago, the first of many. Lucerys’ death had been what catalyzed the beginning of the Dance. 

All at Aemond’s hand.

  “He killed my sweet, innocent cousin. He killed him. Then he played a hand in killing my mother and I never forgave him for it.” You shrug. “That was the beginning of the end for something we’d never get to have anyway.” 

***

The minute Rhaenyra received news about Lucerys, you were quick to have the Maesters write a note that you would be hand delivering to Aemond yourself. You would not give him the satisfaction of being able to speak to you in person after the atrocity he’d just committed. 

Poor Luke. He was a boy. So good, so innocent, desperately trying to do his duty and do right by his mother. 

He wasn’t a warrior. He was a child. 

And Aemond had killed him anyway. 

You leave the note pierced through the center by one of your daggers inside of the shack overlooking Driftmark. When Aemond bursts through the door several hours after fleeing Storm’s End, he finds it and frantically opens the letter to reads the words written upon. 

Aemond, 

You have brought what follows the death of Lucerys upon yourself.

Kesan ilimagho līr iksin dōrī  āzma ezīmagon bisa vys.  Se kesan daor ilimagho ao skori aōha hoskagon maghagon aōha ropagon. 

He swallows the knot in his throat and presses his forehead to the paper.

I will not mourn that which was never born into this world. And I will not mourn you when your pride brings your fall. 

Aemond wishes he was brave enough to tell you like he did in this little house on the cliffs all those years ago. 

But just like the dreams of things that will never come to pass, his harbored desires for you die as he flees the cliffsides to Vhagar. 

The house on the cliffs is never occupied again. 

***

You know when you do find what little remains of him that this is what he wrought. There was nothing to be done. 

Nothing, you think, as you remove Dark Sister from Aemond’s other eye and throw it into the water. 

You don’t unchain him. His body will be found years later still confined to the chains that held him to Vhagar’s saddle. 

It’s... quite fitting, really. Aemond Targaryen - the one who sought freedom - dying confined to both his physical and metaphorical chains made quite a lot of sense. 

The thought of it almost made you smile, despite the tightness in your chest. 

You had wept profusely for your mother. For Laenor, for Laena. You refuse to give Aemond that same satisfaction, despite that part of you from your childhood that still wants to chase him forever. 

The childlike spirits of you and Aemond Targaryen run far away together in a field of wildflowers. Far away from war, from pain and suffering, and.. happy. You’re happy. 

Oh how you wish you could be there. 

You grimace and bend down to cup water in your hands. The air is thick with smoke and difficult to breathe in, but you’re more focused about keeping yourself together then falling apart as realization falls upon you. 

Aemond is dead. 

You should be fine with it. He hurt you irreparably. 

So why does looking at him hurt? Why does thinking about all the things you should’ve gotten to do, to be - as his wife, Aemond would’ve let you be anything you wanted if it meant you were free of your duties and obligations as a Velaryon - cut deeper then the sharpest knife? 

   “I would’ve brought this entire country to its knees for you,” You murmur. The water at your feet is tinged red now. The dragons corpses had been settled in it long enough to stain it red. “But you never could have done the same thing for me.” 

It will be quite some time before either is pulled from the water. You are quick to leave - unable to do so on dragon back, since almost all the dragons have been killed by now - by horseback to Driftmark. You and your father are the last Velaryons, and he had made it clear you were to not be directly involved on the fronts of the war anymore. 

It didn’t mean you wouldn’t send Alicent a parting gift first. 

***

  “Were you there when the Dowager Queen died?” 

  “Oh no, but I sent my regards. She got what she deserved. You reap what you sow.”

The regard in question: Aemond’s sapphire eye, taken out with your own fingers, and his sword - both recovered from the body that you left chained to Vhagar. 

You hadn’t been present for most of what happened after the God’s Eye. You’d gone straight back to your father in Driftmark, where he forced you to remain until the end of the war. Corlys was not about to let anything else happen to his family like it had Baela, Rhaena, Rhaenys, Laena and Laenor. 

He’d pass peacefully in his sleep some years later. 

When Alicent Hightower died around the same time, you lit a single candle and placed it in your window. You didn’t mourn her. You hoped she was suffering the same way she’d allowed you and your family to suffer. 

The flame flickered out, and the last of House Velaryon stood. 

*** 

Someone else has entered the room. You’re not sure who, given that your chambers are mostly off limits, and Driftmark is scarcely occupied these days. You pay no mind to it when Theah stands in the midst of your conversation to go and greet your guests. They must be important if your guards let them pass. 

It was only recently that you’d been declared unfit to rule Driftmark. It was never supposed to be yours anyways, but with the lack of heirs and the death of your House, it had gone to you anyway. 

With your passing would also be the end of House Velaryon, never to be remembered as anything other than the House dragged into the darkness with House Targaryen after effectively tearing each other apart. 

  “My dearest one,” Your eyes snap open. It’s been so long since you’ve heard that voice. “The years have been kind to you. You look peaceful.” 

  “The years kept me from you, Mother.” You whisper. “Especially when I needed you most.” 

Rhaenys is the one you keep seeing, both in your waking and dreaming moments. It’s cruel. It’s cruel knowing she’s the only family member to appear to you when so many others could be the the ones to guide you home. Out of this darkness and into the waking light. 

It would be so much better where you were going. 

  “I have waited so long for you to come home to your family.” Rhaenys murmurs, and you find yourself unintentionally leaning outward in search of her touch when her hands extends toward you. “I’m sorry to have left you behind.” 

It didn’t matter. You had sought vengeance for your mother’s death once and for all when the list of living Targaryens dwindled and left so few alive. 

No one ever did find out who poisoned Aegon the Usurper. 

In the corner, Theah stands frozen at the sight of who lingers in the doorway. “Your Grace,” She murmurs in shock, clearly unsure of what to do. “This is a most unexpected surprise. For both Targaryen brothers to be here-” 

Aegon the Younger holds up a hand. He’d only just recently been granted the time to read his mother’s last testament. After being present at the time of her death, it had taken decades for him to gather the courage to even go near the document she’d left behind for her sons. 

That was why he’d let Viserys read it first. That was what led them here. 

  “My Hand and I have come to express our thanks to the last Lady of House Velaryon,” Aegon remarks. “As our mother had asked of us. According to her last testament, she is also the last survivor of the Dance of Dragons who fought on the front lines of the war. We wish to extend our gratitude for all she's done since.” 

Behind her stands Rhaenyra. She’s the same age as she was when she was killed by Aegon, wearing your favorite hairstyle and dress that you’d thought always complimented her so well. You want to think her stare of longing is directed at you. 

It’s not. 

She’s looking at her sons. 

  “My boys. My beautiful boys,” She whispers, coming to stand beside Rhaenys. “Tell them I’m proud of them.” 

So you do. You tell Viserys and Aegon that you can see their mother, as clear as the last time you ever saw her, and that she is sorry for all the suffering they endured during The Dance of Dragons. That she’s proud of who they became and how they honor their family. 

You miss the single tear that falls down both faces at the confession. 

*** 

  “It’s coming.” Viserys the Second murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest as both he and Theah watch you from the side of the room. Aegon is quietly murmuring to you from your bedside. Ever since you’d told the brothers that their mother was proud of them, Viserys had known deep within him that you were not long for this world. 

  “What?” 

  “The end.” 

Aegon feigns a warm smile as he squeezes your hand. “Our mother spoke highly of you, My Lady,” He whispers. “I hope now that you can find some peace of mind.” 

You don’t answer him. You’re too busy reaching, reaching, reaching for your mother’s hand that you’ve so longed to ache for the last several decades that have passed since the end of the Dance. 

  “My love.” A whisper echoes in your ear as you sigh softly, the rise and fall of your chest slowing as Aemond slowly appears in your peripheral. He’s still the same age he was when he died. “Come home to us. Let me make it right.” 

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

  “Can we go to the wildflowers?” You whisper. “And the cliffside overlooking the ocean?” 

  “It’s beautiful here. There’s no pain. No pain, anger, no blood, no suffering... No obligations to our duties.” Aemond extends his hand. “Your mother is waiting for you in the house on the cliffside. A field of wildflowers awaits us. There’s so many to choose from. Come home.” 

  “Aemond...” 

  “I’m ready to love you the way you always desired. I just never knew how. I do now. And I regret every moment that has passed since I cast you aside.” His eye softens. There’s something about him that just seems... gentler. It’s an odd contrast to how you knew him when he was alive. “Come home.” 

Hm. You’d thought that the fruits of your labors over the last decades had rotted and died, leaving you with nothing. No legacy, no heirs, no one left to remember your name. There had been no point to all the fighting for you because you’d lost anyway. There was never a war to be won because it was always going to be lost. 

The Dance of Dragons had effectively torn apart House Targaryen at the seams. 

Maybe your fruits were ripe and you just didn’t know it. You know that all the people you love are waiting for you. That the current king on the Iron Throne knows you well - because his mother had taken careful care to write about you in her last testament - and his brother holds you in high regard. That your Lady in Waiting knows your story and all the horrors that fall upon it. About how you endured and survived, how resilient you became, how you spent the rest of your days ensuring people would not forget the name Velaryon. 

Your last wish for Westeros was to make sure people remembered. Not your name, but your mothers name. Your fathers name. 

They deserved the credit and legacy far, far more than their headstrong daughter driven by the anger that came from duty. 

  “I’m coming, Mother.” You whisper once again, eyes falling closed. “I’m coming, My Love.” 

Your hand falls limp in Aegon’s. No one will admit it, but something dies in both of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sons that day. They’d had so much still to learn about the mother they barely remembered. To have someone who knew her first hand and had cared deeply for her had prompted them to pursue a relationship with the Heir to Driftmark. 

You knew their story, their mother, better than they ever would. 

   “The Realm has lost quite a woman today,” Viserys murmurs, swallowing the knot in his throat as he presses his hands to Aegon’s shoulders. Theah can’t help but shift uncomfortably. She feels like she’s intruding on a private moment she cannot comprehend. “May the Seven bring her the peace she was never able to find in this world.” 

When the Silent Sisters tend to your body, a single crown sits upon it at completion. 

People would know the Heir of Driftmark died today. 

And so the last of the Sea Snake’s line would cease. 

[starlightazriel]

other parts

a court of love & scars

18+

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part 4, Gwen

Rhys had insisted on throwing me a party. Including on the invitations that his spymaster rescued the lost princess of spring and had found safe haven in the night court. Braggart. I thought, my nose crinkling at the nerves that stirred in the pit of my stomach. To me, he had said, when I told him I didn't want a party, that it was important to celebrate my new position here and my safe return from Hybern. I had given up, figuring the least I could do was put on a dress and show up to a party. I hadn't expected a dress like this.

I stared at my reflection, not fully believing it was me staring back. I turned a bit, admiring the way my hair looked, still so long but lighter now. I inspected my dress from the side and the back. I was thankful for the high back, covering up the long thin scars across my back. I wondered if they noticed I didn't wear things like the other females, always covered up, this dress, despite being modest compared to Mors wear, was the opposite of what I would normally wear. The dress was tight, very tight, long sleeved, cut all the way down below my breasts in a deep V, the point reaching the top of my belly button, definitely dramatic. It was cut from palest green velvet that brought out my eyes, and stood out in the night court like crazy. I was sure the color was a tribute to my home land, Spring. I wondered if my cousin would come, I didn't think so, not after my visit there. Not after Azriel told me what he had done.

Mor had told me that males were coming from all courts to see me, the thought had my dinner churning in my stomach in the worst possible way. Though, she had thought I should be excited.

"Gwen! Are you ready?" Elain is knocking, I bite my lip. No, I'm not ready. "Yes, come in," I say instead and she wastes no time. "You look-"she was lost for words as she squealed and covered her mouth. "Azriel won't be able to stay away this time," she teased, my cheeks burned hot and I gave her a look

"Stop it," I laugh a little bit, rolling my eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, Elain?" I ask, fidgeting with my dress, I felt exposed in the tight velvety fabric. "We are friends, just friends," I say, biting my lip and taking one more glance in the mirror. I couldn't help but wonder if he would like this dress, was it too bright? You can want to impress your friends, that's normal.

"I see the way you look at each other, you aren't fooling anyone," she giggles, my cheeks burn hotter. Was it really so obvious? I couldn't help the curiosity about Azriel that kept me up at night. I had dreamt about him, the first dream I had in hundreds of years, he had saved me, he continued to save me, every day with everything he did for me. He would take me for long walks around the city either in silence or he would tell me stories, fill me in on what I had missed in my time in the dark. He would send shadows to my room every time I had a nightmare, they would envelope me, soothe me back to sleep, I had come to yearn for the feeling, the cool pressure of the shadows on every inch of my skin, not a darkness to run away from but one to sink in to, one to embrace, a darkness that felt peaceful and safe, like shade under a tree on a hot summer day. Not to mention, despite his scars, despite the darkness that followed him every where he went, despite the label of Spymaster and Shadowsinger that instilled fear in the hearts of many fae across the lands, despite all that; Azriel was the most alluring male I had ever lay my eyes on. Azriel also helped me through my troubles with my powers, I didn't know if I would ever get my sight back, and he would encourage me when I would tell him my sight was gone. He would tell me that I had other strengths too, that we just had to find them.

"Let's go," I simply say pretending like I didn't even hear what she had just said, I hooked my arm in hers and we walked down the hall toward the main room in the house. It was one of Rhys' old family castles on the outskirts of the city, much more out dated than where we resided now. She continued to chatter about what, I didn't know. I was too lost in thought. The way you look at each other. Was there a certain way that Azriel looked at me?

I had kissed before, I had kissed the male I was supposed to marry before everything happened. I had been young, so young, still a child, so free and innocent when I had been taken. I wondered now, if it was meant to happen this way. I wondered what life would have been like had I never got snatched from the spring court. I found myself wondering what it would be like to get a kiss from Azriel. I shooed the thought away. Even now I would shy away from many touches, but Azriel didn't make me nervous. If our fingers brushed by accident while we were walking it didn't scare me, if anything it excited me. When we entered, all eyes were on me, I took a deep breath and held my chin high despite the blush that crept to my cheeks. I smiled and bowed my head towards the many noble fae as they did the same for me.

There was a glass of wine in my hands before I had even gotten half way through the room, they were flocking me, from every direction trying to get a turn to speak to me. Compliments were thrown at me in every direction, it was quite overwhelming. I scanned the room. Where is he? There. Against the wall, shadows playing behind him. He was already looking at me, I blushed. I wanted to go talk to him, joke with him about how this was all too much, saying something like I think this is more for Rhys than me. The high lord was having the time of his life.

Azriel looked serious, cool and collected, a glass of wine swirling in his hand. I waved, he raised his glass to me, only smirking a little bit, he looked troubled. I thought he had been excited... He looked miserable. I reunited with childhood friends, ones I had played with before the first war, when we used to visit other courts take holidays be with friends.. And I met many new fae, males and females that had travelled far and wide to see me, a legend in the flesh they called me. I hadn't realized that my story had turned into one that was meant to scare children from staying in their homes when the sun went down.

Against the wall in a cloak of shadows Azriel stayed. I had been expecting him to say hi to me, but the minutes and maybe hours passed and there he stayed. Brooding? I had enough and turned away from whatever fae male had been talking to me, bragging to me about something that I hadn't even cared to listen to what, I could just tell by his tone. Azriels eyes locked on mine when he saw me walking for him one of his hands was in his pocket the other still holding his wine. I was feeling it, a little bit, my glass hadn't been empty since we got here, every time it got low someone filled it for me.

"So you don't know how to say hi?" there was an edge in my tone that caused him to raise a brow and a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. A smug little smirk. "You waved, I waved," he says slowly, "and besides, you were busy," he studies me, my cheeks flushed, and my chest, his eyes drop but quickly snap up. There was something swimming in his eyes, he held his breath. "You look..." He searched for words, looking me over again, taking me in. "absolutely delightful ," he finally says, the way he said it, like I was something to eat, warmth spread low in my belly at the way his voice had dropped. A little raspier, eyes darkening.

"Thank you," I breathed out, we were doing that thing that we did, when we couldn't look away but also couldn't find words.

"Why so serious over here?" Cassian crooned, approaching the two of us, my cheeks got even hotter than before I stumbled back a bit. "Oh- What? Serious? No Azriel and I were just talking," I say quickly, fumbling for words, feeling like I needed to go outside, leave. "Is it hot in here?" I ask, fanning myself lightly with my hand. Cassian snickered, looking between the two of us. Azriel was silent but shooting Cassian daggers for ruining the moment. "I'm gonna go get some water," I didn't leave them any more time to speak before I rushed away, over to the refreshments. I spoke to Feyre for a bit, thanking her for the party and told her I was enjoying myself. It wouldnt have been my first choice, but it was fine. I was having a fine time.

When I eventually turned back around I see Azriel, bending down close talking to an Illyrian female. A knot twisted in my gut at the way he smiled, and I had thought that I was something special to him, that he only smiled at me like that. Two can play Az, two can play. I downed the rest of the wine in my glass and left it there.

"Eris," I say, knowing just how much Azriel hated the male. I didn't know why I wanted to piss him off. I didn't know why I was jealous, why my heart twisted when I saw him smile at the pretty Illyrian.

"I was wondering when you were going to come find me, old friend," his eyes twinkled, and he looked me over with a an intensity different than Azriel would, Eris looked at me as if I wasn't a living being with feelings at all, like I was an object to fuck. He looked at me like the hybern soldiers looked at me. He was not the boy I used to play with as a child, no, he was different. I remembered jumping in leaf piles in the autumn court when my family would visit his. There was clearly nothing left of the boy I once knew.

"Dance with me?" I ask, and now, I could feel Azriel. I could feel his eyes, and I could feel his shadows, listening to Eris and I. His energy was dark, not like Azriels, it was in a bad way. Like his father had rubbed off on him far too much. "It would be my pleasure, princess," the word rolled off his tongue with intent as he blatantly stared at my bare chest, the deep neckline not leaving much to the imagination at all.

Eris placed his hand on the small of my back and lead me to the dance floor. The wine and spirits I'd had were the only thing truly allowing me to do this because I knew in my right mind, after the way he had looked at me I would have turned and walked away. "You know, Spring and Autumn are the perfect opposites," he grinned wickedly down at me, lust dancing in his eyes. I felt the familiar cool pressure of Azriels shadows snaking up my back, sending a shiver up my spine and heat settled in the pit of my stomach.

"I like it here," I replied back simply. "Well when you get bored of the stars and the shadows," he snickered, he must have felt Azriels shadows dancing around us, listening. "When you want to have some real fun, when you want to play with fire, you know where to find me," his words were still laced with intent and I turned a bit to see Azriel, seething in the same spot he had been in, the pretty Illyrian female no where to be found. His wings weren't tucked in anymore, and he was standing up straighter, a shadow by his ear whispering to him what we were saying.

"Come on Gwenny," he leans down, to whisper in my ear, using the childhood nickname that many had used to call me by, I had always hated it. I was facing Azriel, and Eris' back was to him, he was so close, I could feel his hot breath on my neck and it made my skin crawl. "You know you want to," he whispered in my ear, pulling me tight to his body, which apparently was Azriels last straw, because when I looked up again...

He was gone.

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i haven't proof read but i wanted to post another part before work, 5 will be up late tonight or tomorrow. xo

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (31/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 4559

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Arianwyn asks for an audience with her uncle Viserys. He has not woken since the family dinner two nights before, and she is not sure that he will even hear what she says. She is not even sure what she wants to say. Still, she needs to say it.

Warnings: None

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The King

Arianwyn had only ever visited the King’s chambers once. But she had been a babe then, and her memories were faint. She could vaguely recall the sheer size of the model of Old Valyria and the magnificent white stone domes and towers that adorned it. Though, she was unsure whether that was truly a memory, or only an image she had conjured from all the times Aemond told her of it.

Aemond had always so admired his father’s creation. It was one of the few subjects Arianwyn could always rely on to get him talking, even on his quiet days. He would go on and on about how accurate the King had been in his design, how it had been necessary for each tower to be precisely the right size and carved in excruciating detail, or else the magic of the spectacle would be ruined.

He would empty entire shelves in the library to explain to her what each building was, the purpose of each tower, and the magic that had helped to build them. Of course, Arianwyn already knew most of the information – they had discovered it together. But listening to him, basking in the excitement he so rarely showed, never got old.

Despite his enthusiasm, Aemond had never been invited to work on the model with his father. Alicent had tried to console him by emphasizing that it was the King’s ‘personal’ endeavor and that he shared it with very few people beyond the stone masons and other artisans who completed the actual craftsmanship.

But then the King had called Jace and Luke – and only Jace and Luke – to help him assemble one of the Blood Mages’ towers.

After that, Aemond never mentioned the model again.

Perhaps it was the memory of the heartbreak in Aemond’s eyes when his nephews told him why they were late to sparring practice that horrible day, or maybe it was simply the low light in the room. Still, when Arianwyn set eyes on the model, she could hardly stand the sight of it.

It had all been carved of the same white stone, as if the entire city had risen simultaneously from the earth. But there was no truth in that.

Valyria, like the Freehold itself, had been built over hundreds and thousands of years from stones brought from across the known world. It had been even more than stone, with some buildings said to be hewn from massive crystals, grown from the earth itself by many years of taming vines and trees, or even made of pure Dragonglass.

Compared to the vibrant and extraordinary Valyria that lived in her imagination, the model seemed small and mundane.

Alicent caught Arianwyn’s gaze lingering on the model and stepped around it. “Before we were married, I used to sit with Viserys while he worked on it. He enjoyed having someone there to listen to the history, or perhaps just to look impressed.”

But the words only drove the pain deeper into the girl’s heart. How Aemond would have loved to sit at his father’s side and listen to him tell the story of their shared ancestors.

Fortunately, the Queen saw the pain and regret in Arianwyn’s silver eyes and stepped away from the model to take her hand and lead her into the bedchamber.

The light there was even dimmer, with only a single oil lamp lit by the King’s bed. Arianwyn had to look quite closely to see his chest rise and fall. He was still breathing, if just barely.

His golden mask was gone. Instead, the decaying side of his face had been covered with clean strips of cloth, making it easier to look upon his face. The memory of him at dinner two nights ago had been thankfully drowned out by the whirlwind of events – both good and bad – that had happened since, but it still haunted her.

“The Maesters tell me that he may yet be able to hear us, even if his body will not allow him to respond,” Alicent explained, gesturing to a pair of chairs next to the bed. She let Arianwyn sit in the one nearest the King, taking the further for herself. “There have been times when he can say a word or two. Or move his hand, or smile.”

Arianwyn looked to the Queen, “Have you been with him often since he fell asleep?”

Alicent grimaced. “Not as much as I would like. But… it pains me too much to see him like this. There is only so much I can bear.”

There was nothing Arianwyn could say to ease that pain, so she simply looked back to the King.

“Hello, uncle,” she said.

The King gave no indication that he heard her. She had been warned that it was likely, but it still caused her heart to clench.

“It’s Aria,” she continued. Then she remembered, the last time he had used her name, it had been at Driftmark, and he had not called her ‘Aria.” She leaned forward again. “It’s Arianwyn. Your niece, do you remember me?”

The Queen also leaned forward, speaking with careful enunciation. “Arianwyn arrived several days ago. With her father, Prince Daemon, as well as Rhaenyra and all the rest from Dragonstone.”

At the mention of Rhaenyra, the King whined softly, turning his head toward the women.

Of course, Arianwyn thought. It was always Rhaenyra.

Alicent pushed past that particular hurt and continued, “Aria has some wonderful news to share with you, my darling.”

At the Queen’s signal, Arianwyn looked back to the King, trying to force a smile to her face. “Yes, I do. Well… Aemond and I have been married. We are very much in love.”

Again, the King was still.

It broke Arianwyn’s heart. That just the mention of Rhaenyra could rouse him from his sleep, but not her, not Aemond, and not their marriage.

Once, she had thought the King cared for her as if she were his own daughter. Of course, he was distant, as he was with his children by Alicent. But whenever he saw her, he offered a smile. When they found themselves seated next to each other on the ramparts of the training yard, he would ask her thoughtful questions about her studies or her progress with Emrys. And he had always given her sweet gifts on her nameday.

But now, as she recalled each fond moment, Arianwyn wondered whether it was ever really her that he was so fond of, or whether she had only ever been a substitute for her father. Just like she was to Rhaenyra.

In their eyes, she would never be anything more than Daemon’s daughter.

Though her face was as still as the stone Valyria that sat in the next room, a tear ran down her cheek, stinging her skin as it mingled with the cool air.

“May I speak with him – alone?” she asked the Queen.

Alicent wiped the tear away as she stood and did not speak until she reached the door. “I will stay nearby.”

Then she closed the door, and Arianwyn was alone with the King.

She did not know what to say. Words and memories raced through her mind too fast for her to catch. Her tears continued to fall as she felt the world spin around her.

“I always hoped you would be the one to escort me at my wedding,” she blurted out, hearing the words for the first time as they left her lips.

For a moment, she fell silent as the admission sunk in.

“All my life, I knew my father did not care about me,” she said, allowing her mind to simply spill over. It seemed safer than agonizing over her words until they split her skull. “I knew he would not want to escort me, if he even bothered to attend. So, I wanted it to be you.”

The King took a deep, shaky breath but did not reply.

“Ser Criston Cole did it instead,” she explained. “Even if we were not so hurried, I think it would have had to be him, anyway. Or perhaps Aegon – no, actually. Not Aegon. It was almost painful to watch you walk to the Iron Throne. I don’t think you could have made it to the Weirwood tree.”

Arianwyn blinked, forcing herself to stop talking and take a breath. “Oh, I have not told you that. We were married under the Weirwood tree, not in the Sept. It was my idea. I was scared, and I wanted the protection of not just the Seven, but of the gods of my ancestors – my Royce ancestors. Obviously, the Targaryen gods are of no help anymore.”

She laughed at her pitiful attempt at a joke, made even more so by the fact that she was still endeavoring not to cry. Beyond the first, no other tears had fallen.

“I have not told you that either, that I was afraid,” she fought the urge to take his hand, crumpling the fabric of her skirts in her fists. “I was terrified. I was so sure I was going to die. That Daemon was going to kill me. He almost did.”

Arianwyn lifted her hands to her throat and her bruises. The markings had reached their darkest stage. To anyone looking from a distance, it would look like she was wearing a deep plum scarf or perhaps a necklace. But the King could not see it, for his eyes were still closed.

“Did you know?” she asked, lowering her hands. “Did you know what he was capable of when you sent me with him? How much he hated me, and the memory of my mother? Did you know what he did to her?”

She had to take a breath to calm herself so she wouldn’t scream.

“You must have had some idea, especially after Gerold and Lady Arryn came to speak on my behalf and Aemond showed you his note. I never thanked you for forcing his hand when it came to Emrys. He was my only escape on that gods-forsaken island. But even with him, and Brynna, and everyone else from Runestone, it was miserable.

“The isolation in that little tower was bad enough. But then they made me eat dinner with them every night, and they would never talk to me. About me, yes, but never to me. Jace and Luke – and Baela, sometimes – took it as a game. They would take turns saying mean things. About me, about Runestone and the Vale, and even about Aemond, sometimes. They wanted to see if they could get me to break. To snap and make a fool of myself. To scream and curse them, or something.

“But I never did. I think they thought it was because I was weak. In truth, I was just afraid of what Daemon would do if I did react. And I guess I was right to be afraid, I finally did snap a few days ago, and he threatened to kill me.”

Though she knew she was safe now, the memory still sent a shiver through her.

She grimaced, “Eventually, they gave up. What fun is it to mock someone who doesn’t react? Jace continued to tease me, but never at dinner. He learned that if Daemon wasn’t there, I would fight back. It amused him. Luke never did, not after he saw Emrys.”

That particular memory brought a quiet laugh, but it soon faded.

“As horrible as it was, I do think that Aemond had it even worse than me.”

If Arianwyn had not been keeping her eyes locked on her own hands, she would have seen the King frown slightly and furrow his brow in distress.

“No one has told me much in detail, especially not Aemond. And I don’t hold that against him. I know if I ask, he will tell me. But I think he was very, very sick, so I am not sure I really want to know.”

She looked back up at the King after his previous expression had already fallen back into one of pained sleep. “Did you know? How sick he was? How hard it was for him to adapt to the loss of his eye? Did you ever visit him as he healed? Do you know how much you hurt him?”

No reply.

“Do you know how it hurt him to know how much you didn’t care – don’t care? Do you know what it does to someone to know their father does not love them?”

She had to take another calming breath before she continued. “He could hardly believe it when I told him I loved him. I actually don’t know if he does believe it, not entirely. That is what you did. When you brushed what Luke did aside simply because Aemond called them bastards – which I know you know they are – and when you did not rebuke Rhaenyra for calling for his torture –!

“By the gods, she was serious, uncle! She was willing to torture an already mutilated boy in order to maintain her lie! A lie that no one believes! That is the woman you want to be Queen?” she scoffed.

“You took away his ability to believe he could be loved. If his own father had such disdain for him, why would anyone else feel any different? Even if he became the greatest warrior, the best scholar in the world, the most dutiful son, he could never feel worthy of anything beyond the indifference you showed him.”

Arianwyn leaned back, tilting her head to the ceiling to try and stop her tears from falling. “The Stranger is close. I know you’re supposed to forgive people when they’re on their deathbeds… but I can’t.”

She looked back at her uncle, not seeing the broken, dying man that lay before her, but the man he had been on Driftmark. The man he had been when he brushed Aemond aside, when she first began to hate him.

“You broke him, Viserys,” she cried. “So thoroughly, I don’t know if I will ever be able to fix him.”

Lacing her fingers through his, ignoring the chill that went through her at the feel of his cold, papery skin, she continued. “But I will try. If it takes all my life, I will not stop until he is whole again. I promise it.”

Abruptly, she stood, wiping away her tears and smoothing her skirts. She looked upon the King’s hollow face one last time, watching him take a slow, shaky breath.

“There,” she said. “A deathbed promise. That’s better than forgiveness, isn’t it?”

Though she knew it to be futile, she waited for a reply. But, of course, it did not come.

“Goodbye, uncle,” she said and turned away.

She left the room so quickly that she did not see his fingers uncurl as he reached out for her. The sound of her own crying was too loud for her to hear him whisper.

“Aria, I’m sorry.”

Next Chapter

[storytowrite]

|My cousin’s fiancé ~ Hwang Hyunjin| 

Paring: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

Genre: smut Warnings: swearings, little angst, sex but with a condom, mention of cheating, mention of alcohol, fingering

Word Count: 3,810

Summary: Who knew that cheating on one person can lead to a very pleasant event between two people?

—----------------- 

‘Shit! Please, again? What is wrong with me today?’ You asked yourself looking at the already red arm. You were focused on your phone and didn’t see the glass window that you bumped into, instead of crossing the door. 

‘Are you okay, miss?’ You’ve heard the butler’s voice who looked at you concerned.

‘Yes, yes… I’m okay… thank you’ you answered and went straight to sit at the couch in the living room. You again focused on your cell phone and the news that you were reading. 

Apparently the Hwang Corporation, a leading company into the research and development industry, had a new CEO. Every single magazine was writing about the big news. You rolled your eyes. They were praising him as if he was at least the duke. 

Hwang Hyunjin, the new big boss, was well known among all the investors and businessmen in the whole city. He was charming, tall, flirty and… painfully handsome. Every single woman in the whole industry was dreaming about him. 

And you? You hated him with your whole heart. For you he was just a douchebag who decided to fuck your cousin and then propose to her. So you were forced to see him every single celebration day or gala that your family had been organising.  

You two couldn’t get along since the beginning of your acquaintance. You didn’t know why though, you just hated him, and he hated you - or at least that was what you thought. In your eyes he was just a spoiled kid, who happened to be rich and nothing more. Maybe it was you, or maybe it was his attitude, you didn’t know. 

You rolled your eyes while reading another magazine title. ‘The new CEO of the Hwang Corporation has a fiancé!’ How thrilling you thought to yourself with the sarcasm. You were sure that your cousin, May, was very excited and enjoyed every mention of her. 

In your eyes May was just as spoiled as Hyunjin. She would always show how rich she was. She didn’t finish school and was unemployed. But yet, your family has always compared you to her. They were telling you how successful she is or how beautiful she was. And you were so sick and tired of it. It felt like you weren’t respected at all. You sighed quietly and were about to go to the kitchen to make some late dinner, when your phone suddenly rang. 

‘Hello?’ You answered it immediately. 

‘Oh, hello sweetheart. How are you?’ You heard your mother’s voice from the other side. ‘Have you seen the news?’ 

‘Yes mom, I have.’ You sighed. ‘Why are you calling? Is everything all right?’ 

‘Yes, yes darling. Everything’s fine. In fact, everything is perfect… your cousin, May, is doing a small garden party, and wanted me to ask you if you would come?’ 

‘Oh, right… what’s the occasion?’ 

‘She wanted to celebrate Hyunjin’s promotion of being a CEO’ Your mother said and you could feel how proud she was of him, even if he wasn’t related to her in any way. 

‘Yeah, nah… I don’t have time for May’s tea party, sorry mom…’ 

‘But you have to come! Y/N don’t act like a spoiled brat.’ There it was, your mother’s typical attitude. You rolled your eyes. ‘I’m sure that you don’t have anything important to do anyway… The party is on Friday. Don’t make me disappointed, again.’

‘Yes, sure mom… I will come.’ You sighed. You weren’t in a mood to hear all the bad things she was going to say if you wouldn’t agree. ‘Sorry mom, I have to go… We’ll see at the party.’ You hung up and threw your phone to the couch.  

You hated your family and they hated you, so the feeling was mutual. Ever since you could remember, your mother was a demanding yet cruel person. At least to you. You were the youngest daughter and had two older brothers, who were twins, and your mother loved them more than anything else. She thought that you would also be a son, as she wished. So when it turned out that instead of the third son, she would have had a daughter she wasn’t pleased. 

Your grandfather’s will added fuel to the fire. Your grandfather was the only person that actually cared about you. So when he died, you were devastated. He left the will, in which he concluded that the heir of his whole legacy, would be you. He left you all of his money and his businesses. He knew that you were the only one who would take the proper care of it. After all, he had prepared you to take over his role as a CEO of the Kwon Group. 

So yes, you were a successful business woman. You knew how to do business and the Kwon Group has grown to be irreplaceable and indestructible under your leadership. You carried out all of your grandfather’s plans and also some of yours as well and you were well-known in the business world. And for a twenty-seven year old that was a great achievement. 

But yet, your family didn’t respect you at all. After hearing the will of your grandfather all of them turned their backs on you. Your brothers were jealous, your mother was dissatisfied and the rest of the family just stopped talking to you. So you had everything, the money, the business, the title. But you felt lonely. 

—----------------- 

Friday night came soon. You didn't expect that the time could pass that quickly. In one second you were talking to your mom on the phone and at the other you were preparing yourself for the garden party. 

You put on a long, floral dress with a subtle corset that emphasised your slender figure. The neckline perfectly exposed your collarbones and showed your breasts sensually and subtly enough. You wore high-heels sandals on your feet. You did light make-up that emphasised your cheekbones and you put red lipstick on your lips. You looked into your reflection in the mirror and smiled to yourself. You were ready. 

You arrived at May's property just in time. A small garden party in her mind was at least for one hundred people. You put a smile number five on your face and went straight to the garden deciding that you will go back home after about two hours. You weren’t in the mood for the parties. 

You looked around. The garden was full of people. Some of them you knew, but some were new. You didn’t want to start a conversation with anyone, so you just stood at the back of the garden, next to the table with alcohol and snacks. You’ve decided to not talk to anyone. You just had to show yourself to your mother and May and you could go back to your penthouse. 

“Oh My God! Y/N you don’t know how happy I am to see you!” Suddenly you heard your cousin’s high, sugary sweet voice. “I’m really glad that you actually came.” 

“Yeah… Nice to see you May… And, nice party.” You said smiling at her. 

“Ah yeah, you know Hyunjin got promoted, so I decided that we have to celebrate that. Isn’t that great though?” 

“Yup, it is I guess…” You shrugged. 

“And also I wanted to thank you.” She continued. “If it wasn’t for you, Hyunjin wouldn’t get a promotion. His father wanted to promote his cousin…”

“What are you talking about, May?” You looked at her confused. 

“Well… your mom told us that you will sell all your shares to me and him so the Hwang Corporation will take over the Kwon Group? You know, so both companies will merge or something.” She shrugged. “That’s why Hyunjin’s father promoted him.” 

“Wait, what?! But I’m not going to sell you anything, May.” You said being in pure shock. “What the actual fuck is that? I have never said that I will do it.”

“But your mom said…” 

“But my mother is not a CEO nor does she work for me. I’ll repeat myself, just to be clear. I. Am. Not. Selling. Anything. To. You. And. Your. Fiancé.” 

“You don’t have to be rude, Y/N.” You’ve heard your mother’s voice behind you. “Look at poor May, her eyes are in tears now. How could you…?”

“How could I? What the fuck? Mom, you lied to May and Hyunjin and now you expect me to be kind?” You said angrily. “Look, I don’t know what you think you are, but I’m not going to sell my shares. Why did you say I will do it?”

“Because you should share with your family. Don’t be such a brat Y/N. May is your cousin.” 

“Well, I don’t fucking care! You have no right to decide whether I sell my shares or not!” You raised your voice, so a lot of people in the garden now looked at you and the scene. “I’m leaving, but believe me that I will take legal action against you if you try to do it again, do you understand?” You added and went straight to the exit. 

You were furious and didn’t expect that your mother would actually do something like that. She decided for you. She wanted you to lose all of your company and you couldn’t understand why. You called for your butler who was also a driver and sat on the ground. 

You felt tears forming in your eyes. You were angry but also hurt. You knew your mother didn’t love you, but that was too much. You sighed and wiped tears from your cheeks. Many emotions swirled inside you. You took a small pack of cigarettes from your purse and you lit one. 

The smoke from the cigarette filled your lounges. You started to cough. You weren’t a smoker and didn’t smoke at all. The small pack you kept in your purse was just for an emergency. An emergency like that. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You’ve suddenly heard the male voice behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who he was. 

“You don’t know a lot about me and let’s leave it at that.” You rolled your eyes. 

“May I?” He asked and reached out for a cigarette. You gave him one. 

“What do you want Hyunjin?” You asked. “I’m not going to sell…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve heard your argument with your mom. I don’t want to buy your shares… actually I wanted to apologise.” 

“Apologise?” You blinked. 

“Yeah… I guess someone has to? I think that your mother crossed the line. Also, it's not true that I got promoted because she promised your shares to my father.” He said and looked at you with a corner of his eye. 

“Oh… thank you I guess?” You said but didn’t dare to look at him. 

“…And…” He started. “I would like to meet you tomorrow. Or next week if you want to have a free weekend. But I wanted to do some business with your company and…”

“Okay.” You sighed. “We can meet tomorrow… But if you try to make me sell my shares…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He smiled at you. “Tomorrow then. Meet me at noon in Yongbok’s restaurant.” 

“Of course, your friend’s restaurant.” You rolled your eyes. “But okay… Tomorrow then.” You said and your car just arrived. “Say my goodbyes Hyunjin.” You got in your car and went to your penthouse. You started wondering what was the business that Hyunjin wanted to talk about. 

The next day you woke up early and unable to sleep a little longer decided to dress up and go for a walk before the meeting. You were a little bit nervous. You didn’t know what Hyunjin wanted from you. 

The time passed quickly and before you could even blink there was the time to meet Hyunjin at Yongbok’s restaurant. You went to the meeting and stood in front of it. You took a small mirror from your purse and fixed your make-up. Then you entered the restaurant. 

You looked around looking for him. He wasn’t there or you just couldn’t find him. You sighed and were about to leave when you heard a low voice. 

“Hello Y/N.” You’ve heard. “Long time no see, huh?” 

“Hi Yongbok.” You smiled at the man standing in front of you. The last time you’ve seen him was on May's birthday two years ago. You weren’t close friends, but he was always kind to you. Back then you spent almost the whole night together. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good, thanks. And please, call me Felix… all my friends call me that.” He smiled. “You came here to meet with Hyunjin, didn't you? Come, he’s waiting.” 

“Huh? Where? I couldn’t see him…” 

“Ah yes, because he’s at the VIP room.” Felix winked. 

You followed Felix to the VIP room where apparently Hyunjin was waiting for you. You entered the room and the door suddenly closed behind you. You jumped slightly at the sudden noise. 

“Hello Y/N. I’m glad that you actually came.”  You heard Hyunjin’s voice. The room was a little dark inside but you could see his silhouette. “Please, take a seat.”

“Why did you want to meet Hyunjin? And why are we sitting here, in the VIP room?” You asked, sitting in front of him. 

“Well… here we will have more privacy… and also, May is probably cheating on me so I wanted to check if that’s true.” He explained. 

“Okay… why is it connected with me?” You asked, lifting your eyebrow. 

“Well, she’s cheating with one of your managers so I thought that you should know.” He looked at you. “Also, you look pretty today.” He winked. You blinked twice and looked confused at him.  

“Look Y/N… in this room nobody in the restaurant can see us, but we can see them all. Come, sit next to me and I’ll show you…” He said and you did as he asked and sat next to him. Then he pulled back the blinds and you saw the whole restaurant below you. You looked at him and then at the restaurant and blinked. You didn’t expect that something like that was even possible. “See? There is May and your Manager.” 

“Yes… I see… But she shouldn’t know him. Seonghwa is the main finance and risk manager. I was actually going to promote him, he has access to all the information and…” Then it hit you. Your mother and May must have been planning to take over your company and with Seonghwa’s help they could easily do it. “I’m going to fire him…”

“Don’t act rashly, Y/N.” Hyunjin said and winced when he saw May kissing Seonghwa. “I’m going to break up with her though.”

“What should we do now?” You asked, looking at him. 

“Well I want revenge… After all, I proposed to her and she is cheating… She hates you, you know?”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Mr Hwang.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Uh, that sounds sexy…” He muttered under his breath. “Anyway, she hates you, so what if we go there together and act like we are a secret couple or something?” 

“I don’t know if I want to do that. I don’t like you…”

“And yet you came to meet me.” He winked. “Come on, please?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. 

“Ok, fine…” You agreed. “Let’s do this and then we’ll go our separate ways.” 

“As you wish.” He smiled. You both stood up and went straight to the main room where the regular guests were. Before you entered the door Hyunjin grabbed you by your waist and pulled closer to him. “Did I tell you that you smell beautiful?” He asked and you felt that your cheeks instantly changed their colour to red. 

“T-thank you… You too…” You said quietly but he could hear you. He smiled at you and you both passed by your cousin and ex manager. May instantly spotted the two of you. 

“Hyunjin? Y/N what are you doing here?” She asked. 

“Oh, May… I haven’t seen you.” Hyunjin looked at her and smiled a little. “Who is your friend?” 

“Just a friend. What are you doing here with Y/N?” She looked confused. 

“Oh, right… Well, that’s a little awkward. I should have told you earlier but…”

“Are you cheating on me with her?!” She busted. 

“Yes.” Hyunjin said without any hesitation. “And you are cheating on me with him, don’t you?” 

“B-but Hyunjin… it’s not… I-I…”

“Please May, don’t, we are over, you know?” Hyunjin said calmly. “You can keep the ring though.” 

“And Seonghwa.” You finally spoke. “You are fired.” That was the only thing you said. 

“Can we?” Hyunjin asked you and the two of you left holding each other's hands. 

You were impressed how calm he was all the time. He didn’t hesitate at all. You looked at him with the corner of your eye. He was really handsome. He deserved the ‘prince’ title. You started wondering how it was possible that such a handsome man existed and was on earth among normal human beings. He definitely had some godly genes. 

You looked down, your hands were still intertwined. You smiled at yourself. It was a nice feeling after all. You focused on his long fingers and started imagining them inside you. Then you quickly shook your head to forget all the unwanted thoughts. 

“What are you thinking about?” He broke the silence which formed between the two of you.  

“N-nothing…” You stuttered. “You can stop holding my hand though…”

“I know, but I don’t want to.” He smiled a little. “Do you want to maybe grab a drink? I’m not sure if I want to go back to my house now…”

“Hm… okay. We can go to a bar or something.” You shrugged. Hyunjin smiled widely and the two of you went to the nearest bar. 

—-----------------

After a few drinks you felt a little tipsy. You spent a pretty good evening with Hyunjin. Apparently he was not a douchebag as you thought before. He was such a nice gentleman. You had fun with him. A lot of fun actually.

“Careful.” Hyunjin said as you tried to stand up from your seat. “Are you alright Y/N?” He asked. He didn’t drink as much as you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine…” You smiled at him. “I’ll order another drink… Do you want something too?”

“No, thank you, and I think that you had enough.” He said. “Let me drive you home.”

“But I don’t want to.” You whined.

“Come on Y/N.” He walked you out of the bar and took you to his car. His driver drove the two of you to your penthouse. 

The whole way to your home was silent. You didn’t want to say anything, not feeling much sober. Hyunjin also didn’t want to say a word. After all, you two weren’t even close. Little did you know that he wished you would. 

He helped you get out of his car and walked you to the front door of your penthouse. You looked at him in the elevator. His long, black hair was perfectly styled. He looked like he was out of the cover of the most exclusive magazine. 

The two of you stood in front of your door. 

“Are you going to open?” He asked. 

“Are you going to come in?” You answered the question with the question and opened the door. You invited him. He entered your apartment and scanned everything, then his eyes landed on you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

“You want something to drink or…” You weren’t able to finish the sentence as Hyunjin's lips were suddenly on yours. You blinked before you fully gave in to the feeling. His lips were velvety and juicy. You didn't expect the kiss though. It wasn’t just a kiss it was aggressive and sensual at the same time. 

He didn’t give you time to process what actually was happening. You totally gave in. Your hands were all over his body and you started to unbutton his shirt. He smiled at you and pulled you closer to himself, kissing your neck. 

He pushed your hands away and pulled the belt from his pants to tie it around your wrists. Then he lifted you and found the way to your bedroom where he laid you on the bed and stripped himself. Then he leaned over you and smiled slightly. 

“Can I take your dress off, sweetheart?” He asked and when you nod he unbuttoned your dress and took it off of your body. He smiled widely as he found out that you didn’t wear any bra today. 

His hands grabbed your boobs and squished them gently. You let out a soft moan which made Hyunjin smile again. Then his lips attacked your nipples, biting them gently. 

Unable to touch him you started to wiggle under his touch. Your moans become louder and louder. He had all the control and he was in no hurry. 

“Hyunjin please.” You whined, moving your legs as you felt the wetness between them. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked licking his lips and looking straight in your eyes. 

“I want you.” You cried out. 

“Hm… not yet, sweetheart. Let me taste you first.” He answered and kissed you again. Then he moved from your lips across your whole body and licked his lips once again before he spread your legs wide open and kissed your clit. You let out a soft groan as his tongue started playing with you. He ate you out and led you to the orgasm that hit you instantly and hard. Then he pulled off. “You taste sweet.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Are you ready to feel me?” He asked as you nod and tried to calm your breathing. “Good girl.” 

Suddenly you felt his long fingers inside you. You let out a loud moan. He started moving his hand slowly and added another long finger inside you. His thumb was rubbing your clit. The only thing you could do, was wriggling and moaning. 

“Hyunjin, please!” You cried out. 

“I like when you beg.” He said and pulled off his hand. He put a condom on his member and slipped into you. You both left a loud groan. Hyunjin started to move inside you. He set a fairly fast pace and his movements were strong. You both didn’t last long and the orgasm hit the both of you at the same time. 

Hyunjin laid down next to you panthing and smiled. You looked at him and smiled back. You both didn’t need any words because your eyes said everything that had to be said. He pulled you closer and hugged you tightly. 

Since that night everything had changed. 

—----------------- 

Masterlist

[hosts-of-valyria]

Volantis River Rhoyne the far East of Essos - Valyrian Colony the Rhoynish Valyrian Wars

"Seize him and bring Blackfyre to me Ardrian. Any last words Garin now is the time", said Gaemon while Volantis burned brightly through dragonfire and Garin spat at Gaemon's feet and Ardrian Qoherys slapped Garin in the face and he gave Blackfyre to Gaemon, "i piss on you and your arrogant whore sister. One day you and your sister will lose your arrogant, smug grin Targaryen. You and your bitch sister think you're better than everyone else. I piss on all Valyrians! I PISS ON VALYRIA! SISTER FUCKER", called Garin and Gaemon cut off Garin's head with Blackfyre, "Execute Garin's followers and tell them in the capital that Nymeria escaped to Westeros the west is due now", said Gaemon, "oh with pleasure Commander", and Ardrian Qoherys and his Valyrian Knights and Dragonlords killed Garin's followers.

Thoughts of Daenys Targaryen - Daenys the Dreamer the Dawn of Valyria

Centuries before the War of the Five Kings an Empire ruled with an iron hand over its enemies. Long before the Dance of Dragons with the Realm's Delight Rhaenyra Targaryen and the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, long before Robert's Rebellion and the Fall of the Iron Throne an Empire shattered the enemies into the sand with names as countless as the stars in the firmament the Dragon Empire, the Valyrians, the Freehold. Over 100 years before Rhaenys, Aegon and Visenya Targaryen.

Many years before the Greyjoy Rebellion and the Tournament of Harrenhal - the dawn of Valyria when the stars were young the greatest power in Essos nations tremble and hold their breath as the Valyrian Legions and Dragon Armies march nobody in the known world shall stand a chance against the might of the Valyrian Empire with a weapon arsenal and manpower up to 1500 dragons, 6000 Valyrian War Ships, 90000 Valyrian Knights, 5000 Valyrian War Elephants, 10000 Firewyrms and over 100000 Dragonlords.

Fear and Respect for the valyrian contingent and the war machinery. Honor for our beloved Emperor and Empress. Glory for the Empire and the Valyrian Gods. The greatest leaders for the Freehold and the golden generation for Valyria.

Tyria capital of the Valyrian Empire the ancient home of the Targaryens and Belaerys and Seat of the Valyrian Senate - Reign of Emperor Aurion Belaerys and Empress Jaenara Belaerys - Valyrian Peninsula

"My most loyal vassal is back Valyria's highest Commander is back from the Rhoynish Valyrian War in Volantis. Let's hear what my cousin Gaemon Targaryen and his best men have to say. Silence in the senate silence in the room. I command Silence", said Jaenara and Aurion while Daenys, Aenar and Shaena smiled at Gaemon, "I greet the Senate, Dragonlords and Senators. Garin and his followers are dead i executed him myself. Nymeria and her Rhoynar fled to Westeros after Sunspear in Dorne so i would councel we have our eyes to the west", said Gaemon and Jaenara and Aurion nodded, "Gulltown, Stonehelm, Duskendale or Lannisport are great for targeted attacks, conquests and invasions we have unfinished business with the Andals and First Men", said Gaemon.

"Valyria has been waiting for such an opportunity for a long time and now it is within reach to compete with the West i agree with the Commander we should look westward", said Aenar, Shaena, Daenys Targaryen and Daemion Velaryon and the senators from their seats. Jaenara and Aurion turned with their chairs and the two Belaerys siblings looked at each other.

"The hell itself could not digest Westeros and we show Valyria's Might to the Westerosis we are light years apart. Valyria and Westeros cannot be compared. That's like comparing Lannisport to Asshai or Gulltown with Tyria it's another world", said Jaenara and Aurion and the senate applauded loudly.

Will Fletcher and Freya Allan as Gaemon Targaryen and Daenys Targaryen - Daenys the Dreamer and Gaemon the Glorious - Marton Csokas and Charlize Theron as Lord Aenar Targaryen and Lady Shaena Targaryen born Belaerys - Luke Eisner and Anya Taylor-Joy as Jaenara Belaerys and Aurion Belaerys Emperor and Empress of the Valyrian Empire, Lee Pace as Lord Ardrian Qoherys

Murat Yildirim as Garin of the Rhoynar - Garin the Great

[lynnthefrenchtoast]

Lines from "In The Other Universe" that I CANT GET OVER

in which a fanfic writer (me) overexplains her oneshot bc I NEED TO RAMBLE AND MY IRLS FOLLOW ME ON EVERY OTHER PLATFORM SO TUMBLR IS ALL! I! HAVE!

(u should prob read it first this wont make sense otherwise)

"Even though it was not his name, Yin Yu turned"

i dont know if this is a canon scene or not (sue me the books are LONG and hard to buy in my country) but i've read about yin yu getting mistaken for yizhen and getting totally upset. so i decided to start this fic with him being so okay with it that he responds to qi ying's name as if it's his own.

(also because if ur so close to someone, ur nosy abt their business because it also becomes your business) I WANTED TO CONVEY THAT CLOSENESS FROM THE VERY FIRST LINE

"Should I tell Yizhen you can't even recognize me?"

CANON YIN YU IS SO GLOOMY AND HONESTLY WE UNDERESTIMATE HIS POTENTIAL TO BE TEASY. i just know he could be. all hard workers have a sarcastic inner voice

"The man damn near shits his pants"

AHAHHA okay look. i have this tendency when writing to be REALLY PRETENTIOUS AND FANCY. and ive learnt that usually NO ONE GIVES TWO SHITS. compared to genshin, tgcf fanfics are so beautifully written and sometimes i gotta remind this fandom to SPEAK INFORMALLY (unless its qi rong. then. yea. BUT WHO READS QI RONG FICS?)

"The blank wrist that has never known the kiss of cold metal"

I RIPPED MY OWN HEART OUT WITH THIS ONE

"In this universe, he discovers it's such a simple thing to be happy."

proof that quanyin is literally hualian's cousin

the entire earring scene

i am a sucker for qyz's over-attachment to the earrings. ik a lot of ppl think he's like this because its the only thing yin yu ever gave him but NO headcanon that even in the other universe, yizhen would be overly attached because hes a puppy

he xuan scene

canonically, he xuan would NEVER. bc 1) he's too lost in his own ways to ask for advice and 2) it would fuck with his earth master disguise too much. but since it's the other universe!!!! I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.

“Yizhen’s victory is my victory,” he declares, with a tone that leaves no room for argument. “His loss is my loss. When Yizhen cries, I am sad. When Yizhen smiles at me, my heart is so full it could burst.” He brings two jade white palms together, interlocking the fingers like entangled limbs on a hot summer morning. “We’re like this. One shared past; one shared future. As a Shixiong, don’t you think rather than being jealous, I’m extremely proud of how far he’s come?”

my favourite freaking line can you tell? IT SHOWS THEIR ABILITY TO ROOT FOR ONE ANOTHER. SHOWS EMPATHY. SHOWS LOVE. ("my heart is so full it could burst") THE RECALL TO THE MORNING THEY WOKE UP TOGETHER, REMINDING YOU OF DOMESTICITY AND SIMPLICITY AND TRUST AND CLOSENESS.

ONE SHARED PAST; ONE SHARED FUTURE ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? this is all i ever wanted for them. to be able to grow together and live together and die together. TO HAVE A SHARED PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.

this line is also loaded to me bc i once wrote a fic called "entangled pasts; estranged future" that wasnt good enough to be posted but GOD IT REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF IT

"Here, he never needs to know the weight of a mask – neither physical not metaphorical."

i dont like how i worded this but IT NEEDED TO BE SAID. YIN YU NEVER NEEDS TO KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO WEAR THE WANING MOON MASK but more importantly NEVER NEEDS TO KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO WEAR A MASK TOWARDS QUAN YIZHEN. NEVER NEEDS TO HIDE RESENTMENT. im shaking with all they couldve been and didnt become.

"Here, Brocade and Immortal are just two words"

hear that? its the sound of me BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AAAAAA I SO DESPERATELY WANT THIS TO BE REAL i mean i understand if they werent so tragic i wouldnt love them as much but IT HURTS! (*100 teehee)

"Sure it will."

i actually hate myself why did i end it like that even in my fanfic i cant let them be happy. huh. i have to subtly hint that this isnt what happens.

its actually so upsetting that the whole fic is so nice and healing and all of it is just overcasted by this knowledge of "its not real. they never get to be this happy. what really happens is they resent each other and leave each other and they become one shared past; two estranged futures."

you can call me insane. im aware no one thinks this deeply about fanfiction and most people are on the site for smut. BUT I THOUGHT LONG AND HARD ABOUT IT SO YOURE FORCED TO LISTEN TO ME RAMBLE

[taro-im]

the things they would do for you when they’re in love

featuring: Sakusa

Sakusa: it was 5 in the morning , the both of you were sound asleep Sakusa woke up giving you a little kiss on the forehead admiring your peaceful sleeping face, the raven haired male decided to let you sleep for awhile because it was the weekend, he got up from the bed only seeing red blood on the bedsheets… he felt guilty for waking you up but he did “h-hey love please wake up I gotta change the bedsheets” he said gently shaking you so you could wake up “baby it’s too early” you muttered half awake giving a little groan seeing a awkward Sakusa kneeling before you “b-but I gotta change the sheets” he muttered playing with a strand of your hair only for you to notice a wet uncomfortable feeling around your pelvic area knowing what’s going on… you bolted up seeing blood under you ruining the white bedsheets… “I’m so sorry Kiyoomi” you said in the verge of tears feeling guilty because these were his favorite bedsheets, “shh you didn’t do anything wrong my love, get up I’ll run you a bath” he whispered giving your hand a little squeeze making you go the the bathroom, you felt a pang of guilt in your chest you knew how much he really liked those bed sheets and how clean he always kept them and you ruined them… you finished your bath while Sakusa was putting away the bloodstained sheets to wash, you awkwardly went to the living room sitting on the couch face down “y/n how could u be such a idiot” u muttered with so much embarassment, you’ve been dating for a year but was too afraid to do anything u think he would consider gross or disgusting and you finally did what if he got Icked out by you? What if he stopped seeing you, you jumped to conclusions and ended up secretly crying not knowing Sakusa was out the bathroom door, “baby here take some ibuprofen, do u want me to make u hot cocoa while I’m in the kitchen” the raven haired male said but eyes bolted hearing your quiet sniffles “hey shhh my love what’s wrong” he said speed walking to you on his knees holding your face wiping away your trickling tears, “I’m so sorry for the sheets kiyoomi” you said avoiding eye contact, “sorry for what? Y/n you didn’t nothing wrong, it was just an accident I would be a mad man if I got angry over that why would u think like that my love” he said holding your face with a small frown wondering why you would think like that” baby I’m sorry I know you hate messy gross things and that was blood, last time your cousin had a bloody nose and it got on your couch you got so angry at him” you said calming down “baby he’s my cousin your my wife- I mean girlfriend when it comes to you I don’t care what I have to do and nothing you’ll do will ever make me feel that way because your my everything, look at me y/n, those sheets vs you, your more important than some bedsheets I could buy I don’t know why I would even compare you to that, nothing compares to you baby” he said with his gentle soothing smile which made your heart melt, you’ve fallen so hard for this boy but can you even fall even harder? He kissed your forehead caressing your face “since I’ve been with you I’ve learned many new things and new experianced and my love I can’t wait to go through new things with you, you have changed me to a better person now let me get your medicine” he said giving you one more kiss.

THIS WAS A DRAFT I MADE WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN IT HAS BEEN TWO YEARS AND I HAVE FINSIHED IT ITS KINDA RUSTY BUT OH MY GOD THIS IS MY FIRST WORK UPLOADED AINCE I WAA 15

[miracles-and-butterflies]

For @female-hercules, based on the prompt: “Mirabel and Isabela bicker over which of them is Luisa’s favorite sister. Since she's the favorite sister of both of them but they think that there can be only one; which makes them ask her…”

Twisted this a little to avoid the ending being really obvious and overdone. Here you go, hope you enjoy!

Comments are always appreciated.

~~~~~~

All’s Fair In Love and Favouritism

“That’s not the point. History exists so we can take lesson from it, Isabela. See, in 1509—”

Whatever Mirabel was going to say was completely cut off by Isabela tossing carnation petals her way. Though Isabela’s usual target was someone’s mouth, she always aimed for Mirabel’s clothes. The girl would then spend several minutes picking each individual petal out of the embroidery, which brought an abrupt end to the would-be history lesson.

Isabela nodded, fully satisfied with herself.

Camilo snickered at the exchange, his mouth full of papaya, quickly swallowing as he caught sight of Dolores suddenly appearing through the doorway. The same way she always does when she hears something interesting and just can’t help but get involved.

“What are they arguing about?” She whispered.

“Favourite siblings or something like that. It sounds more like a school lesson than anything else though.”

As if she was the one with enhanced hearing, Mirabel turned away from her sister and instead to where Dolores had entered the room. To her credit, she had gotten quick with removing those petals.

“I am not arguing,” Mirabel said calmly. “I am merely trying to politely explain to Isabela that favouritism is wrong and should not be encouraged.”

“And I’m telling you how little I care.” Isabela grumbled into her hand.

“And they’ve been doing this for almost an hour. I had to refill my bowl twice, just to keep watching,” Camilo explained.

Mirabel sighed. “I didn’t want to get involved, Dolores, but someone needed to tell Isabela how she was wrong and you weren’t here.”

“Then actually have a fucking argument with me!” Isabela screeched. “I don’t want a history lesson on how favouritism affected the royal siblings of France in 13-whatever! That means nothing to me!”

Dolores shook her head, taking a seat beside the significantly calmer of her two cousins.

Admittedly, this was not a regular occurrence.

Isabela trying to start an argument? Oh no, that was common in La Casa Madrigal: she liked causing drama. But Mirabel getting involved? Not so much. The younger typically resigned to not voicing an opinion unless if it was something she knew tons about or cared deeply for - or could turn into a free history lesson.

Mirabel had retreated back to her book for the time being, while Camilo had offered Isabela his bowl of papayas as an invitation to calm down.

“Which one of your sisters do you like more then?” Dolores asked Isabela pointedly.

“Neither. I hate them both equally.” Isabela replied. Dolores raised an eyebrow.

“Luisa’s her favourite,” Camilo piped up. “She just doesn’t wanna admit it.”

“No! She was the favourite.” Isabela corrected. “But she threatened to kill my corpse flower this morning, so now she’s back on the loser side with Señorita Sabelotodo.”

“I see… and Mirabel, who is your favourite?” Dolores questioned.

“I no longer want to be part of this discussion.” Came the tiny reply from behind the pages. Then with a sigh, she gives in. “I love both my sisters - they are their own unique individuals, who should not be compared to one another because we simply share parentage. Regardless, favouritism should not be encouraged. It negatively impacts the—”

“Yeah, thank you, sis,” Isabela said, cutting her younger sister off. She turned back to Dolores. “See what I have to deal with? It’s like living with a school teacher!”

Dolores rubbed her temple, holding a hand out to stop Isabela from ranting. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You don’t have a favourite currently and Mirabel is against favouritism so she doesn’t have one, then what on Earth are you two arguing about?”

“Nothing at the minute because—”

“Yes, yes, Mirabel has no backbone. I know, Isa. So what were you discussing? If it’s right to have favourite siblings?”

“And it is!” Isabela yelled, just as Mirabel said, “It is not acceptable.”

With a huff, Isabela relented. “Back me up on this, primita. You have a favourite, right? Though you have way better options than I do. Who is your favourite brother?”

“Antonio.”

“Eh… That’s fair.”

“HEY!” Camilo exclaimed.

“This is what I mean,” Mirabel muttered. “It negatively—”

“Nobody asked you, textbook.” Camilo snapped, before turning his attention back to the older two.

The peaceful atmosphere of the morning had definitely been broken now.

Camilo was throwing wild accusations and insults at Dolores, who kept her hands firmly over her ears. While Isabela persisted in a new point of how annoying younger siblings were.

“Just get over it, Camilo, you’re not my favourite sibling. Why is that so surprising to you? All you do is find new ways to aggravate me.” Dolores said, eventually getting a word in edge ways. Then, clamping a hand over Isabela’s mouth for a moment, added, “And you aren’t right either. There’s nothing wrong with younger siblings.”

“Well, I know there’s nothing wrong with all younger siblings, but my sisters are the worst. I can’t pick one as a favourite because they are both so annoying. Lucky that they get to pick me as the favourite.” Isabela grumbled.

“You think you are the favourite sister of her?”

“Don’t be stupid, primita. Obviously I am—”

Isabela faltered for a moment. Dolores was grinning at her, that same mischievous smirk that complimented Camilo and Antonio when they were pranking people, but with all the not-so-subtle smugness of their mother.

Even Camilo had gone quiet, hiding his mouth behind his hands.

“I don’t have favourites for anything, except fabric and books. Nobody should have favourite people,” Mirabel answered, when Isabela turned expectantly to her.

She couldn’t argue with that, as a child Mirabel’s answer to which of her older sisters she preferred was always a claim of simply not having a favourite or liking them both equally. Even when Isabela was such a bitch to her in the past. Not that she could argue with Mirabel point blank.

So if Dolores hadn’t meant Mirabel…

“LUISA!”

When there was no reply from the next room, Isabela simply got up.

“This will be fun,” Dolores muttered, sharing a glance with Camilo, who snickered.

Mirabel gave an exasperated sigh. She hastily put her book down, sprinting after her sister. “Isa, Mama has told you countless times, you are not to be in the kitchen when Luisa is cooking. You cannot go in.”

“I can and will. I’m the eldest, I can do whatever I want.” Isabela retorted.

“The order of our birthdays is hardly an excuse for you to break the rules. Couldn’t you, just this one time, do the right thing? It’s just that.. maybe this is a not-so great idea and you shouldn’t bother Luisa with unnecessary questions. Why don’t we take a walk? It is a nice day—”

Isabela stopped walking, allowing the younger to catch up.

“Just spit it out, Mirabel.”

“Favouritism is wrong and can have consequences for both parties,” Mirabel eventually said. Realising where this was going, Isabela started walking again. “Wait, Isa! I promise I won’t use examples from history this time.”

Begrudgingly, Isabela took a step back, but didn’t turn back around. Mirabel took it as permission to continue.

“We are evidence of the consequences of favouritism, no? From Abuela? And that hurt us. Therefore, I think that…” she paused to take a deep breath, “It would be for the best if you let this go before things get out of hand.”

The older hummed, seemingly considering the idea. “You’re not wrong… but you aren’t great in an argument, so I’m not totally convinced. Besides, I’m competitive and now I need to prove Dolores wrong, so…” She continued walking into the kitchen.

Just as she expected, Luisa was still in the kitchen trying out some new recipe of brazo de reina that Tío Félix had insisted she try. The others had been watching earlier and even offered to help, but… Luisa tends to get insanely aggressive in the kitchen. It’s safer to wait until she’s finished cooking than to engage in conversation.

But this can’t wait. Besides, she can take Luisa.

“Luisa, my very dear hermana, how goes the new recipe?” Isabela asked.

Luisa snarled, not looking up from the bowl. “Leave before I break your arm like a rose stem.”

“Always fun chatting to you while you cook,” Isabela commented. Casita cleared a space for her on the counter and she hopped up to be closer to her sister. “I have a question.”

“Should you leave Colombia? Yes, brilliant idea. I’ll help clear out your cacti.”

“Come on, I haven’t even touched the bowl this time!”

Nobody had forgotten when Luisa was making cholado a couple of months ago and Isabela dared to touch the outside of the bowl to see how her sister would react. They were both banned from the kitchen for the next week by their mother.

The younger didn’t give a response. Just an annoyed grunt.

Taking the silence as tolerance, Isabela said, “It won’t take long. I just need your answer to prove Dolores wrong and then I’ll go.”

“You have a minute. What is it?” Luisa inquired, looking up at her sister for the first time since she entered the kitchen.

“Who is your favourite sis—”

“Mirabel.”

Isabela choked on her words.

“Y-you didn’t even let me finish,” she mumbled.

“Don’t need to hear it,” Luisa shrugged. “It’s a stupid question, I don’t really hide it. Honestly, for someone who claims to be such a know-it-all and doesn’t know that… anyways, have fun proving Dolores wrong. Now, get the hell out of my kitchen.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you proved her right.”

Luisa froze. Unblinking. Then, of all the possible reactions in the world, burst into hysterical laughter. “Wait, you thought you were my favourite sister? That’s hilarious, Bela!”

As Luisa kept laughing and teasing, Isabela’s mind was still processing. However, that small petty part of her didn’t just want to walk away without having the last laugh.

She was the eldest sister. She was the one in charge. And she really wasn’t going to have Luisa treat her like this. And she couldn’t really go back to Dolores with nothing to show for herself - Dolores won’t let her live it down.

If only there was someone who would tell Luisa off for playing favourites and not picking Isabela, instead picking that little, doe-eyed owl—

Bingo.

Without another word, Isabela dropped off the counter and left the kitchen. Luisa’s cackling still echoing along the corridors. She was promptly greeted with Camilo and Dolores’ giggling when she returned the room, but she tried her best to look unaffected.

“Sis!”

“Oh no, what have you done? It’s only been two minutes since you went into the kitchen.” Mirabel paled, lowering her book.

Isabela shook her head. “Not me this time. Luisa. She has done the most awful thing.”

“Oh God, is Casita broken?”

“What? No, Casita’s not broken, it’s okay,” Isabela said, taking Mirabel’s hand into her own. And then as dramatically as she could, she continued, “Luisa was just telling me about her favourite sisters. And how she thought Queen thingy of wherever was totally right to have favourites and ruin her children’s futures, setting them on the path of war. All because Hercules once said favouritism was good or something… I stopped listening, it was so unbearable.”

Any anxious thoughts left Mirabel instantly.

“I told her she shouldn’t take moral advice from Greek mythology,” Mirabel complained.

She retracted her hand and was instantly on her feet, gracefully storming towards the kitchen. Isabela smiled as she passed her cousins, gleefully following Mirabel out.

Now, if Isabela needed any proof that Luisa had a favourite, her reaction to Mirabel entering the kitchen was proof enough.

“Hermanita, come here, I haven’t seen you all day!” Luisa set down the bowl, holding out open arms. “Why don’t you come and read in here? I can clear a space for you and you could read to me while I finish up. Then we could have the first slice.”

Yeah, no. That was a completely different person to the one who had greeted Isabela less than five minutes ago.

“Oh, and why are you back here?” Luisa then asked, catching Isabela’s wide eyes.

Isabela waved her off. “No reason. Just act like I’m not even here.”

“I was going to do that anyways,” Luisa said. She turned her focus back to Mirabel, who was now on the other side of the counter and eying the mess in disgust. “Would you like a strawberry, Mirabel? I have got a few spare.”

“No, thank you. I need to talk to you.”

Luisa nodded. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I…” Mirabel took a breath. “I think it is completely unacceptable for anyone to have favourite people, especially in terms of children and siblings. And, well, Isabela told me you have a favourite sister—”

“Yes, you.”

“Yes, me. Regardless, it can negatively…” Mirabel trailed off.

Isabela who had been sat, holding back laughter, waiting for just the right moment to let it out, turned around. Mirabel’s expression was unreadable, as though her impressively big brain had lost its train of thought and she couldn’t quite remember what exactly it was she was here for.

“Me?” Mirabel whispered, though Isabela was too far to hear.

Luisa nodded, seemingly just as unsure of where this was going as Isabela.

There was nothing for a moment.

Then a single tear rolled down Mirabel’s cheek. “I have never been anyone’s favourite anything before.”

Mirabel slowly broke down, crying a mix of both sadness and happiness. Luisa practically tore the dirty apron off herself, so that she could hug Mirabel without the latter getting worried about flour in her embroidery.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute,” Isabela exclaimed. “I get made to sit through a history lesson because I have a favourite sister, but Luisa just gets a pass? That is not fair! That is biased! That is favouritism! That is…” Casita might as well have smacked Isabela in the face with her door. “No. Fucking. Way. Luisa is your favourite.”

It felt like forever before someone spoke again.

Realistically, it couldn't have been that long because Mirabel was very quickly back peddling. “Only by a little, like a needle-sized difference. It doesn’t even count,” she hiccuped.

“What do you expect, Bela? You treated her like dirt under your foot for the past fifteen years.” Luisa scoffed, clearly enjoying this. “I’d be concerned if she didn’t naturally have a bias to me.”

Isabela couldn’t really argue with that.

“Fine,” she said, slipping off the counter. “We do this again in fifteen years, and then we’ll see who’s the favourite of who.”

“Deal!” Luisa grinned.

“Or maybe we could just enjoy each other’s company without playing favourites and getting competitive?” Mirabel said, but the other two weren’t paying attention.

When Isabela finally returned to the room, she expected a very smug Dolores and Camilo waiting. However, for better or worse, there was no sign of Camilo and Dolores was flicking through Mirabel’s book curiously.

“Where’s Camilo?” Isabela asked.

“He left to ask Antonio and our parents about their favourite siblings,” Dolores replied. Then she tilted her head, “Mama, Tía Julieta and Tío Bruno aren’t taking it well.”

She groaned, flopping down beside her cousin. “I guess you heard what happened?”

“I always do.”

“Ugh… I told you. Younger siblings are just the worst. I hate all of them. They are all just pests.”

“You better not mean that.”

“Why?” She spat.

Dolores scoffed. “Because, for some reason that I will never understand or forgive, God decided that you should be twenty-four days older than me.”

“Wait,” Isabela said. “You think you’re my favourite sister?”

“I consider you to be mine. You and Mirabel never limited the discussion to biological siblings only.”

Isabela sat baffled for a moment. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She was touched by the sentiment and it was true - their relationship had been on a downward spiral because of the whole Mariano thing, but time had naturally healed it. And now, they were as close as they were before either had siblings, they had just never said it out loud before.

She pulled Dolores into a hug, which Dolores gratefully returned.

“You’re mine too,” Isabela smiled. Then added, mischievously, “Now, how should we go about proving we’ve got a better sister bond than Luisa and Mirabel?”

[ceaseless-bitcher]

-TMA Spoilers(?)-

As I re-listen to The Magnus Archives (again), I become increasingly aware of our lack of actual knowledge about how the characters’ relationships develop. We only hear what The Web deemed relevant enough to lure the Fears: interactions directly related to The Fourteen. We hear statements, commentary, encounters, and fights/conversations that specifically develop The Mother’s own plan, as that is what allows her to build her literal web on Hill Top Road.

Even in early seasons, when it isn’t just The Web compelling various people to start recording at points (or turning on the recorders itself), we literally only get post-statement commentary and interruptions. So few give us direct insight into who these characters are beyond their jobs.

It kinda breaks my heart that we don’t get to hear how Jon and Martin slowly grow closer, becoming friends after such a rocky start. We hear Jon’s fights with Tim and Melanie, but the only things we actually get are the breaking points. There are massive gaps in their personal and private lives over the years the story occurs. Jon, Sasha, and Tim were close friends, and yet it takes nearly the entire series to realise that!

We hear Tim make some very interesting remarks in episode 65 (Binary, statement #0170701), in his fight with Jon:

“And the worst thing – the actual worst thing – is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care, Martin just wants a tea party, and Sasha – ugh – and you! – you’re treating me like I’m somehow to blame for it all, like I didn’t suffer the worst right alongside you!”

What I find fascinating here is the, “and Sasha- ugh,” as he sounds highly distressed in the recording. We know the two are very close, particularly due to the 2015 Tim-Sasha interaction played in episode 162. They were best friends, so Tim was the most directly affected by the Not!Sasha’s new personality. We can compare the two Sashas to find that the original was far kinder, showing her goofier side almost exclusively to Tim. Right after Tim’s own traumatic experiences with Prentiss in episode 40, his best friend completely changes, refusing to offer him any support. In Episode 78 (The New Cousin, #0011206), Jon can hardly get through a sentence talking about the Not!Sasha. It is so heart-wrenching to know that they experienced that hurt and confusion we never hear in those 7 months (29th Jul, 2016-16th Feb, 2017).

Also, Melanie and Helen were friends??? We never hear Melanie and Georgie’s relationship develop! Listeners are, deliberately, deprived of the soft character-building one has come to expect from media.

I think it’s a fantastic plot device and I completely understand why they did it, but another part of me desperately wants to know the smaller details of their lives. What was the break-room gossip like? What other weird things were kept in Artefact Storage?? How did the rest of the Institute react to the Archives constantly nearly dying??? How often did Elias come down to fuck with them????

What I am arguably most curious about is whether The Mother intended for these recordings to be heard in the universe they enter next. The last word we hear from them come from Basira, after the Panopticon’s collapse:

“If anyone’s listening… Goodbye.

I’m sorry, and… Good luck.”

It implies that the diegetic reason we hear these 200 episodes at all is because our universe was the one the Fears were flung to. If that is the case, then it would make sense that the Web would ensure the next “round” of humans was fully equipped to repeat the actions taken to allow the Fears to escape entropy- the plan is put at much higher risk because the Fears enter at a point where the human population is much greater, with advanced technology and communicational tools that could enable The Watcher’s Crown too fast for favourable conditions for The Web to develop as well.

Maybe the recordings placed into the Hill Top Web weren’t just to attract the Fears, but also to prepare a new humanity to confront them.