#but desire was his favourite sibling once upon a time

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

never gonna stop thinking about the fact that desire is the only one of dream's siblings who has never ignored him when he's asked for help

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[i-did-not-mean-to]

October 21st

Cosy pyjamas

Ah Maglor and Finrod, my two beloved but very annoying friends (haunting me endlessly)...

I am not entirely sure who to tag as I've read so many ficlets and full-blown fics about them. Hmmmm...@oopsbirdficced, I've made reference to Finrod/Caranthir though haha...

Also special shoutout to @cuarthol who writes a beautiful Finrod and who does so many different things with such style and poise that I am always in awe! Check it out!!!

Here's the amazing art by @theresonlyzuul ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Words: 568

Warnings: Undressing...nothing really :D

“Eru forfend,” Maglor cursed under his breath as he unwrapped the parcel Finrod had handed him with such evident pride; he was still not entirely convinced of the “girl’s night without the girls”-sleepover plan his favourite half-cousin had come up with but – as several of his brothers had explicitly refused to attend it – he had taken it upon himself to fulfil Finrod’s whimsical wish.

How could he have resisted when his kinsman – clad in a silken pyjama in a shimmering emerald green that much complimented his sparkling eyes – was all but bouncing like a ball of pure light in his eager anticipation of the fun they’d have?

“Where did Nelyo go?” Finrod asked wistfully while Maglor unfolded the thick, warm pyjama in Fëanorian red onto which tiny harps and flutes had been embroidered in a beautiful display of both skill and artistic talent. 

The golden-haired menace had been so enamoured with his own plan that – evidently – not even Maglor’s lack of suitable attire could stop him from making this the most epic and memorable of sleepovers since before the first coming of the light.

“My sweetling,” Maglor sighed dramatically, shedding his own clothes shamelessly to slip into the generous gift he had been granted, “did you really think Nelyo and Finno came because they wanted to emulate the secret meetings your sister and Aredhel have?”

“Yes,” Finrod replied, outraged by the suggestion that he’d doubt his cousin’s word.

“I am most aggrieved to let you know then that tonight’s entertainment shall be reserved for the two of us; it’s highly improbable that the other firstborns will join us before it is time to scurry back to our own beds.”

“I am being used, am I not?” Finrod made a face that wavered between vexation and fascination.

“Do you object to the intimacy?” Maglor cocked one eyebrow provocatively, giving a little twirl so his host could admire the shape of his body underneath the heavy layer of warming fabric. He loved the fact that his bad circulation and tendency to feel cold when sitting down for too long had been considered in the choice of apparel; Finrod’s discreet attention to those details warmed his heart more than any pyjamas could ever have warmed his icy limbs.

“Not in the least,” Finrod chirped with renewed enthusiasm, “you’ve always been my favourite anyway. We can share a blanket.”

He was feeling quite snuggly and comfortably cosy already, but Maglor was not fool enough to refuse the chance to cuddle up against his golden-haired cousin and bask in the heat of his indefatigable hopefulness. 

His eyes narrowed as he grew suspicious of his own enthusiasm. “What about Moryo?”

Finrod blinked at him, the very picture of startled innocence, and breathed: “Yes, what about Moryo? Let’s not talk about your brothers, hmmm?”

There were things Finrod was clearly dissimulating or – which was more probable in his case – pointedly ignoring until they came to bite him in the behind, but Maglor agreed that, just this once, he should not waste a single thought on his annoying, disruptive, and dearly beloved siblings.

Nodding vaguely, he hurriedly thought a few soothing words and shreds of half-forgotten prayers to Eru so the One would not prompt Nelyo and Finno to change their mind after all; this promised to become a very lovely evening indeed and Maglor had no desire to see it interrupted by anyone or anything.

@fellowshipofthefics :D (I am making good on my month)

Lots of love from me...this was a small - a little sweeter - ficlet. (Can't all be bad smut and insinuated sadness, right?)

-> Masterlist

[mwolf0epsilon]

Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run

Prompt: Caged

Summary: Fox lives in a cage. His batch, clueless that they are, envy and resent him for it.

[There's something compelling about the idea that the Guard was heavily isolated from the GAR due to Palpatine's meddling. How much influence he has over communications could be explored in many ways, but I think Fox would be able to keep some contact with his batch as a means to keep the GAR unaware, because Palpatine knew his favourite plaything wouldn't ever step out of line. And even if he did, Palpatine could probably influence the other battalion commanders just enough that Fox would be trapped anyway...]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Coruscant was the purest definition of a facade. A world of horrors, betrayal and corruption, hidden beneath a surface polishing of gilded paints and pearlescent smiles. A most deceptive planet full of equally deceptive natborn elite.

A court of heralds loyal to their king. A king which he and his kin are both guard to and jesters alike. Perhaps even exotic pets.

Coruscant is the Senate's grandiose paradise, and the Guard's inescapable hell. It is Fox's eternal prison.

He'll live and he'll die serving the rot that coursed through the very heart of the Republic. Unable to protect anyone that actually mattered.

Things had been different once. Kinder in their most humble and watery beginnings. At one point in his youthful naivety, Fox had had hope in his heart. Hope and the encouragement and support of his batch.

Simpler times called upon simpler thoughts, and Prime had always claimed to be nothing more than a simple man. So logically his clones should follow his example and be no less. Live, train, serve, die.

His posting on Coruscant was not simple in any way shape or form, however, so the begrudging marshal commander had to grow to be a little more complex in nature.

A little more guarded and cold. Cunning like the critter he'd gotten his name from. Ruthless even. Outwardly at least...

Fox had never outgrown the need or desire to comfort his littlest siblings after all. Hadn't had the heart to let them believe they were completely alone in this. None of the commanders of the Guard had.

The Guardmen were in this together after all. If they didn't have each other's backs, then who did? Not the GAR, not the Coruscant Security Force, not the Senate, not the entire galaxy for all they knew...

It's hard to live with it. So very very hard. Fox lives in a cage. His batch, clueless that they are, envy and resent him for it.

They don't know of course. They had never really cared to listen when he tried to tell them, and never really answered their comms when he felt bold enough (or perhaps suicidal enough) to try to call for aid.

He'd nearly blown the whistle so many many times...

Communications between the Guard and the GAR were near impossible. There was some kind of a block that affected everyone but Fox and yet, even in his privilege, he felt completely isolated regardless of being able to talk to those who should have been his brothers or not.

Despite the bitterness of the situation, he never blamed them for their ignorance. There's a war out there, and his batchmates were fighting it. Risking their lives, enduring great losses, wanting nothing more than to pretend that 000 was their little slice of heaven. Blinded by the lights.

It wasn't fair that he had to put his burdens on their already overburdened shoulders. Selfish even. So he stopped trying. Stopped asking. Stopped flinching with every disparaging remark.

It's not their fault that Fox lives in a cage, or that he's slowly beginning to get comfy in it.

He's never known any other life, nor holds any hope of ever having a new one. So he might as well learn to live with what he has.

Even if a piece of him dies with every day of torture and guilt he has to endure.

[goldenngore]

i don't have a death wish. ( from ren! )

@walkpathe

The roll of golden eyes beneath the sunny skies above Highgarden could scarcely be held back. Loras sighed, treading not so carefully through his mother's hideous daffodils, kicking a few just for the sake of it. He hated the bloody things. "She only hit you with her cane that one time, dearest. It is quite possible she will not do it a second time." Mayhaps around fifty percent, depending on how Renly wagged his tongue around The Queen of Thorns; what a stupid name, almost as bad as The Knight of Flowers. He grimaced down at a squashed daffodil, thinking upon how much he loathed that moniker. Legendary knights were named Sword of The Morning, The Lion of Lannister, and Aegon The Dragonbane. Not the poxy Knight of Flowers.

The scowl remained when he peered up at his beloved. "Actually, she probably will. She's a nasty old cunt. Tis best you sit far away next to Garlan. If you're too close to Willas or Margaery, where she will be, she still has the reach. But she doesn't really care about Garlan, so he's a safe spot." Explaining his family dynamics to Renly in preparation for dinner felt odd. After all, he hadn't seen most of them for many years until recently. But he recalled every letter from his siblings and the less pleasant ones from his father telling him to behave for the king's brother. Time hadn't altered much at Highgarden, and Loras quickly became bored, yearning once more for the wilderness of Storm's End. But Renly liked it here for some godawful reason, the opulence, the pretence of family, the sunshine. He suspected many reasons yet held no desire to question him about it.

"My mother will make inane small-talk, say how proud she is of me, perhaps feign a tear or two. It is best to make simple courtesies; she will soon shut up. As for my father," a sound of frustration escaped him, and he kicked another daffodil. "I do not know. He is unpredictable. It depends on how well his greed has been sated as of late, but he will probably want to show off his wealth. It's his favourite pastime, I'm afraid." One thing Loras suspected his lover and father might have in common showing off. Slyly, he slid his hand in Renly's, a smile finally taking over his face. "We only need get through this evening, and then we can make haste to Oldtown. Tis much more interesting than this flower show, I promise."

[jxstadaydreamer]

teaser 🔞

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x F.Reader Genre: Smut Word count: 2934

Summary: You visit your family for your birthday and a few antics lead to a quick rendezvous in the family home.

Warnings: mothers pressuring you into having babies (lightheartedly), spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering, explicit sex, degradative actions/words, rough (please let me know if you think anything else should be mentioned)

Author's Note: This is purely a self-indulgent story I wrote for myself because it's my birthday. Hope you enjoy reading! 💞

It was the weekend before your birthday and, since your birthday falls on a weekday this year, you had claimed it as your birthday weekend. You would also claim the following weekend as well but we’ll get to that when the time comes.

You were currently in the car on the way to a small family gathering to kickstart the celebrations. Chanyeol in the driver's seat with his hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly into your skin and not so subtly trying to slip under the skirt of your dress. Actually, you’re not even sure if he was aware of what he was doing or if it was just a case of idle hands. You didn’t mind either way, the weather was starting to get a little chilly and the warmth from his hands was always welcome.

Upon entry to the family home, you were bombarded with a hoard of excited little ones rushing to greet you. Well, you thought it was you, but the confused look on your face as they ran right past you and latched onto your boyfriend was the reason he was wearing a smug grin on features. As much as your little nieces and nephews loved you, they loved him just as much. All you could do was watch on happily with a goofy grin of your own while they rapid-fired questions at him.

As you stood to the side and admired the scene in front of you, your sisters came to say happy birthday and tease you about being the forgotten one since the kids had seemed to temporarily forget you existed, commenting on how he’s always so great with them. How they had been hounding their parents asking if Uncle Chanyeol would be coming today.

“Is that who I think it is?” A voice sing-songs from the kitchen.

You can hear kitchen utensils being thrown into the sink as your mother makes a straight b-line towards you. You raised your arms to hug her but it felt like deja vu when you were once again completely ignored for your boyfriend instead.

“Mum!” you exclaimed in fake shock horror.

She looked over at you and joined Chanyeol in laughing at your sour expression.

“I’m sorry, honey, but you’re here every other day. It’s not often I get to see my favourite future in law.” A toothy grin beamed across his features. They looked quite comical, your mothers small stature tucked in a side hug against your tall beanstalk boyfriend. “Happy birthday! I made all your favourites!”

“You are forgiven,” you huffed, “Now where’s the food!?”

Everyone began filing into the dining room and there were moments of chaos as you all helped set the food onto the table. Friendly banter and conversations with your siblings as you all did your part.

Over the course of the meal and amongst all the conversations that happened, your mother would constantly make references to her desire to have more grandkids, specifically from you and Chanyeol.

“Oh, you’re going to be a great dad one day, the little ones just adore you!”

“You two would have the cutest kids, really.”

“I can’t wait to have more little grandbabies waddling around the house.”

A wink or a nudge thrown your way each time, answered with a roll of your eyes.

If you were being honest, you weren’t opposed to the idea. You and Chanyeol had been together for a while. You were both at a stable position in your lives. You weren’t sure if he was planning to propose or not. Sometimes he would throw you some subtle hints about it, sometimes you would catch him looking at the ring display in the jewelry store when you were at the mall together. Marriage would be nice but it wasn’t too big of a deal to you, it would happen when it would and, if it didn’t, you only cared if the two of you were happy together. You didn’t want to stress too much about that fact. So, if you did happen to fall pregnant, it definitely would be more of a blessing than a problem.

After the meal, everyone moved to separate areas and groups around the house to relax. You were seated with your sisters, catching up on some events when your eyes wandered over to your boyfriend. He wasn’t dressed in anything fancy but he always looked so effortlessly handsome. Just a simple button up shirt over a white tee with the sleeves rolled up and some jeans. 

Your eyes slowly crept up his body, admiring all the details of him until you reached his face. Busted. The corner of his lip quirked up, dimple deepening with his signature smirk in place. You narrowed your eyes back at him and huffed, turning your attention back to the conversation your sisters were having.

An idea suddenly came to mind, causing you to pull out your phone. Tapping your way to his messages and selecting a particularly saucy photo you had snapped earlier while getting ready. A new white lace lingerie set you had splurged on as you posed seductively in the mirror. Locking the screen the moment you were done and looking over to watch the scene unfold.

From your place across the room, you stifled a giggle as he jumped from the vibration in his pocket. Seeing a text notification from you, he looked over to you with a questioning look to which you answered with an angelic smile. Suspiciously, Chanyeol unlocked the screen, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets as he choked on his own saliva, launching himself into a coughing fit.

“Oh my god, Chanyeol, are you okay?” your mother fretted, patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. He panicked trying to quickly lock his phone and dropped it in the process, afraid someone might see what he just had. Glaring at you when he saw the amused look you had. You shrugged and smiled sweetly at him.

A little while later, your nephew challenged Chanyeol to a few rounds of Super Smash Bros Brawl to which he gladly accepted, taking his place on the floor slightly to the side of the tv screen.

They had gotten a few rounds in and were fairly even at this point, both having won 2 matches each. This was the final round, the decider. Anyone who had been paying attention was on edge, eager to see the results. But you had other ideas.

Just as the countdown for the matchstart was about to begin, you yelled out good luck, telling him he’d need it. He turned his head with a cocky reply ready to fire back at you but the words were caught in his mouth when he caught sight of your movements.

Slowly, you parted your legs and lifted one so you could cross it over the other. To anyone else, you were simply readjusting your position. But only someone who was sitting in the exact position where Chanyeol was currently seated, would be able to catch a glimpse of what was between your legs. Something all too familiar and yet so foreign. A flash of white lace. The exact same white lace from the risque snap he had received earlier. His mouth agape and practically drooling.

“Hey! Pay attention loser!” your nephew called out, regaining Chanyeol’s attention.

Although it was too little, too late and he ended up losing the final round.

It seemed you were full of ideas tonight, perhaps the alcohol you had been lazily sipping on throughout the night making you grow a little bolder than usual. After downing the rest of your wine, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once inside, you snuck a hand inside your panties, feeling how wet you had grown from teasing your poor boyfriend all night and the prospects of events that could transpire once you arrived home later that night. Eyes slightly rolling back when your slim digits touched your sensitive self. But your own hands could never do what Chanyeol’s could. Not compared to his bigger, thicker, longer fingers. Reigning in your desires, you pulled your hand out of your panties and fixed your outfit before you left the room.

Returning to the living area, you noticed the seat on the couch behind Chanyeol was free and made your way over, signaling him to move a little so you could take a seat. He scooted backwards, settling himself against the couch and in between your legs. You leant forward and began massaging his shoulders, commenting on how tense he was. You worked your way from his shoulders, up his neck and cupping his jaw. Quickly surveying the room and when you were sure no one was paying you any attention, you crept a finger up his lips, brushing past the plump flesh and swiping ever so lightly across his nose.

He quickly grabbed your hand and held it in place, deeply inhaling the scent that was on your fingers. Darting his tongue out to taste if it was in fact what he thought it was. Luckily the bustling conversations around the room were loud enough to cover the slight growl that erupted from his body.

Chanyeol flung your hand back to you and pulled out his phone from its place in his pocket. Fingers flying as they furiously typed a message to you.

A buzz later, you looked at your screen to see his message preview. It was short, you didn’t need to unlock the phone to read the entire message.

Upstairs bathroom. Now.

Nervously, you excused yourself from the room once more and made your way upstairs, down the hall to the bathroom located at the end, slipping inside and leaning against the countertop as you waited.

Growing impatient, you were just about to message and ask what the hold up was when the click of the door lock made you look up. And what a sight you saw.

Chanyeol, tall, dark, looming. Eyes dark and gaze full of lust. All of which causing you to grow wetter with the need for him.

“You think you’re funny? Hm? Playing your little games with me all night.”

“A little,” you smirked, “they certainly entertained me.”

Your smirk faltered as he took agonisingly slow steps toward you. Making you feel smaller with just his eyes and the intensity in which they stared at you.

When he finally reached you, he ran the back of his hand across your jaw back and forth before flipping it over and cupping your face with one large hand, you lightly leaned into the contact.

“You’re cute but I think you forgot who’s in charge here, baby girl.” he said in a low voice, tilting your chin up so he could look you directly in the eyes.

As he held your gaze with his eyes, his free hand slowly undid the tie of your wrap dress.

“It’s your birthday but why am I the one unwrapping the present?”

His eyes dropped to your body as the tie fell, your dress opening up along with it and revealing the luxurious lingerie set you had worn underneath. His hands ran appreciatively up and down your sides, squeezing into your flesh as he admired the sight. You drop your shoulders and allow the material to fall completely off your body.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna give your mum those grandbabies she keeps asking for.”

A hand wraps around the nape of your neck, pulling you in and crashing his lips to yours, tongue diving into your mouth and wrestling with your own. The other hand kneading your breast before caressing down to your hip, rounding to your ass and giving it a loud smack that makes you gasp and pull back to send him a glare. His deep voice chuckles as he strokes your sore cheek, lifting your thigh up to wrap around his hips. Opening your legs and feeling how hard he had become from the result of your antics tonight.

Your arms crossed over the back of his neck, holding him close so you could roll your heat into his hardness. Chanyeol's face dipped into the crook of your neck, biting into you and muffling the moans that were threatening to spill, bucking his hips in time with the movement of your own.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees and presses his face to your clothed pussy. Taking a deep breath and groaning at the mere smell of your need. His fingers dug under the elastic of your panties and moved them down your legs, almost ripping them in the process, earning him a light kick to his back.

With nothing in his way, he dived into your wetness, tongue dipping past your folds and lapping up the juices that had been leaking out of you. You braced yourself on your hands behind you on the countertop but they shot into his hair the moment he pointed his tongue and started licking at your clit. You tugged his locks with each swipe of his tongue against the sensitive bud.

You jumped at the feeling of his thick finger gathering the slick around your hole before sliding in, your back arching with the new sensation. He thrusted it in and out a few times before adding a second finger, scissoring them and stretching you out for what was to come.

His fingers combined with his skillful tongue could’ve been enough to make you see stars but you pushed his head away because it’s not how you wanted to finish tonight.

“W-want you, please,” you begged.

Chanyeol stood up, removing his fingers from you and motioned for you to open your mouth, which you obeyed immediately. He stuck his fingers inside your mouth and you began sucking on them, licking your own taste off his digits while your hands busied themselves with the unbuckling of his belt, popping the button open and pulling his zipper down. A hand immediately crept under the waistband of his underwear and wrapped around his length as the other pulled the damned piece of clothing down so you could grip him properly.

You stroked him as he kissed you, licking inside the cavern of your mouth and tasting you as if he hadn’t been at the source of the salty sweet just moments ago. You loosely wrapped your legs around his hips and nudged him closer. Chanyeol pulled your hand away from his cock and placed it on his shoulder.

“Might wanna hold on.”

He placed himself right at your entrance before looking up and planting a kiss on your forehead before plunging himself into you. Your other hand shot up to his shoulder, holding on for dear life as you both panted heavily. He started pumping himself in and out of you, every stroke angled just right and driving you to insanity.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, I won’t last if you keep this up.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed, “give me your cum, please.”

Chanyeol growled, removing himself and bending you over the sink before driving his cock back into you, everything happening so fast you could barely register what had happened. He has one hand pressed into your back, holding you down while the other is gripped tightly on your hip, keeping you in place as his hips slam into you.

A moan is ripped from you as a particular thrust is angled just right and hits your sweet spot.

“Do you want everyone to hear you?”

But you can’t help it. The way he’s filling you and fucking you is just too good. Your attempt to subdue your moans ends with another being ripped from your throat.

A hand suddenly clamps over your mouth. However, instead of covering your mouth and keeping it closed, two fingers slip inside, hooking onto the side of your mouth and holding it open.

“Fine, be loud then. Cry out, baby, let them hear how good you’re getting fucked right now.”

Your eyes begin to roll back as you can feel your orgasm on the cusp of breaking over.

“Cum for me, baby girl.” his hips begin to stutter, a tell-tale he’s also near his peak, “Fucking cum right now!”

With his command, you feel your release gushing as your eyes squeeze shut, colours flying beneath your eyelids and you can feel his cock twitch, hot cum coating your insides, spurt after spurt. He falls forward, warm against your back but holds himself up on his forearm so he doesn’t suffocate you beneath his weight.

Moments pass as you each regain your breath and collect yourselves, remembering where you are right now and laughing when your eyes meet. He’s still half dressed and a hot, sweaty mess. Although, you couldn’t say you looked any better right now. You both quickly redressed and adjusted your clothes, doing your best to refresh yourselves and look as presentable as normal before clambering your way back downstairs to rejoin the family.

You both gained a few looks from some family members, prompting Chanyeol to apologise with the excuse that you needed some help with the zipper on your dress. Taking your previous seats on the couch, you felt a gaze burning into the side of your head so you turned to face your sister.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, just funny how you don’t actually have any zips on that wrap dress you’re wearing.”

You were mortified. Chanyeol, however, had the smuggest grin on his face, dimple deeper than ever, earning him a smack to his chest that just released the boisterous laughter that he was holding in.

[havingsomemorejohnlarks]

A fanfic request :p

Small Warning: strong language and things of a sexual nature

requested by  @wrldwideweird0

(Joseph Seed x GenderNeutral SO) (we’ll make it in second person, because i love those)

I feel like I should just put it out there - this is mine (it’s not amazing or anything but like nobody put it on another website and claim it as their own 😭 thank you)

For all intents and purposes, it was quite a nice morning.

The air felt fresh with rain, the water drops dripping down from Bliss flower petals, proving that there had, in fact, been rain the night before. But the sun was shining - making those rain drops glitter and sparkle. It was shining down upon people, making them smile. The grass was wet, but children rolled around in it happily, and parents let them. 

This was the kind of morning that Joseph breathed in and kept close to him. He flourished in mornings like these. He would step out from his church doors slowly, stretch his arms upwards, as he often did, and bask in mornings like these. It was these kind of mornings when Joseph felt more generous, when he helped his flock fulfil their duties alongside them, when he helped kids draw the hopscotch on the ground, when he sang with the choir, and chatted twice as animatedly to his siblings.

You thought it was beautiful. Watching him do all these things, with the most cheeriest look on his face, was the best part of any of your days so far.

Admiring him from afar is kind of your thing. It was how you met. You had admired him from afar, and Joseph had noticed. Of course he had noticed. He notices everything around him. He saw you watching, and he dragged you nearer with those gorgeous, intense eyes of his. He reached out and took hold of you, drawing you closer, so that you no longer had to gaze across a long distance.

You could admire his face closely any morning you like, because he woke up beside you regularly and he would smile a soft, content smile.

It was almost inevitable, really, that something like this would happen.

It was one of those mornings, after all...

Not just one filled with fresh air, shining suns and a happy Joseph. It was one of those mornings, in which Joseph felt happy enough to take his shirt off.

Once upon a time, you didn’t understand why he would walk around like that all the time. But after he explained, after he held your hands in his and talked about freedom and the breeze on his skin with his soothing, charismatic voice humming in your ear, you got it. You understood him immediately. 

Whether you understood it or not though, watching your man in his element, specifically with his shirt off, is quite something.

You watched from the side of the church, your legs crossed at the ankles, leaning against the wooden building, as Joseph preached in the sun, to his followers, giving them hope and happiness. You watched as he caressed their faces, sang their praises, and God’s praises too.

Hm. Damn.

Your gaze wandered to his bare chest, as his muscles shifted beneath his skin when he moved. His skin glistened with some sweat, showing just how hard he had been working physically. His tattoos and scars were on display for anyone to see (and enjoy immensely).

What a sight to behold.

No matter how many times you had seen this man shirtless, you always reacted as if it was your first time seeing anyone’s chest before.

He was beautiful.

You could feel yourself going warm all over, staring at a particular part of Joseph’s chest. It was like your eyes were glued there for a moment. It was your favourite part after all...

Those pecs, man...

You shifted your gaze down to your shoes, momentarily distracted by the cute ladybug that was crawling near. When you looked back up, Joseph was staring right back at you.

He tilted his head and gave you a glimpse of a little smile. It was filled with a little question, something like “what are you staring at, my darling?”

That gaze only flustered you more. You winked at him, pretending not to stare, pretending to be more interested in the ladybug that was now on your shoe.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joseph’s followers leaving, taking hopeful and happy steps towards, you presumed, their duties.

Is it just me and him now?

Your presumption was confirmed when you saw Joseph approaching properly, next to the church. You turned towards him, your hip still leaning on the building. 

Trying to seem chilled out and not completely riled up and ready-to-go just by a glance of this man’s perfect fucking tits was a challenge and a half. Your breath came out in shorter pants, so you weren’t a hundred percent sure how the Hell you were going to hide it anyway.

Joseph joined you in leaning against the building, so close that his skin brushed yours. He smiled at you.

Well, that’s not helping anything.

You smiled back, trying, once again, to act like you hadn’t been gawking at his body and getting extremely horny from it. 

It was pointless anyway.

Joseph gave you a soft kiss on your cheek, his breath grazing against your face. “As much as I love... certain affections from you...” He blushed and looked away for a moment, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t... look at me that way... when I’m trying to fulfil my responsibilities as the Father.”

The grin that spread across your face was despicable and full of glee. 

“Why’s that, then?” you asked, acting innocent, when you both knew damn well why.

Joseph shifted, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Why were you looking at me, anyway?”

The question did actually take you by surprise. Did he not know? Or was he just desperately trying to avoid the question you had asked?

You tilted your head at this man in front of you. You glanced down at his naked chest again. You reached your hand out to gently stroke one of the tattoos which was closer to his collarbone. A soft noise rushed past Joseph’s lips before he could stop it.

Yeah. That’ll do it.

A very strong urge rose up in you. A strong urge that had to be fulfilled right then, that minute. It couldn’t wait for anything.

You hurriedly whipped your arms round his waist, pulling him closer, and shoved your face straight into his chest, and stayed there, breathing in his smell and appreciating the feeling of his body against your face.

Joseph immediately, adorably, squeaked, in a pitch that wasn’t actually unusual in situations like these.

His face went a bright red, and he gasped in genuine surprise. Both your hearts were gunning like crazy.

Eventually, after a little while of Joseph being pleasantly shocked, he stammered out, “D-darling, what are- I- What is this about?! I-”

He trembled as you looked up, your chin digging into his body. “Your boobs are immaculate, handsome.”

He squeaked again, as you grinned, soaking up his surprise and clear desire.

“What you gonna do about it, gorgeous?” you teased, watching him squirm under that gaze of yours.

After a moment of doing nothing, he grasped your hands from around his waist, and pulled you, leading you around the corner and towards the church doors.

Oh, Dear Lord.

[rubysunnday]

spinster

Request by Anon - Could I request Anthony Bridgerton with ‘ok, you have literally adopted that child’ please?

A/N: Based off the books and the show and my general imagination so, the timeline is probably all wrong 

Y/N took her duties as an aunt very seriously. Whilst her desire to have children was almost non-existent, she didn’t mind looking after her nieces or nephews to give her siblings a break. 

She’d become close to her numerous nieces and nephews - especially as she quickly became outnumbered by them all - but there was one, in particular, who happened to have a soft spot in Y/N’s heart.

Anthony and Kate’s eldest son, Edmund. 

Since her siblings couldn’t very well have favourite children (Y/N knew they did, however), Y/N had decided to keep who her favourite ‘nibling’ (a word she’d very cleverly come up with and was rather pleased about) to herself. 

He was a lovely boy who didn’t mind spending hours upon hours sitting in the library reading with his aunt or joining her and his mother on walks around Hyde Park. 

Y/N had been staying at Bridgerton house for the past week and had spent almost every single day with her brother’s children. She’d listened to their countless stories, been the peace maker for their arguments and had chased them around the garden she and Anthony had once played in.

Anthony had been watching his sister with a fond expression. She’d seen how close she was to his children - especially his eldest son - and it threw him back to when Y/N had been a child and he’d chased her around the gardens. 

“I am exhausted,” Y/N panted as she all but collapsed into a chair next to Anthony. 

He’d moved his work out into the garden for the morning - not wanting to be stuck in his office whilst it was so sunny. 

“You were like that once,” Anthony replied, looking up from his work to give her a smile.

“Auntie Y/N,” Edmund said, approaching her with a smile. “Are you going to play with us again?”

“Ooo, I think I will,” Y/N said, leaning forward to pick him up and set him on her lap. “Besides, who will help Charlotte protect herself from her brother’s if I’m not around.”

“No!” Edmund squealed, giggling furiously as Y/N tickled him. “No, you have to be on my team!”

“Do I now?” Y/N asked. Edmund nodded and she sighed. “Alright, but give me ten minutes to talk to your father about why I should steal you for myself.”

Edmund laughed and jumped off her lap, running down the path and after his siblings.

Anthony stared at his sister. “Ok, you have literally adopted that child.”

“He’s your child!”  “And you have clearly adopted him!” Anthony exclaimed. 

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah... well, we all know my opinion on having my own children. Besides, looks like I’m going to become a spinster.”

“Don’t say that,” Anthony said softly. He set his pen down and reached across the table for his sisters hand.”You'll find someone.”

Y/N gave him an unconvinced smile. “When one has the love matches of her mother and siblings to live up to, you too would be uncertain. No matter who the man is, they are never good enough for me. I’m beginning to run out of options if I’m entirely honest.”

“As long as you don’t do an Eloise, we should be fine,” Anthony muttered.

Y/N burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, brother, I have no intention of running off in the middle of the night to meet a man I’ve never seen before.” Y/N’s smile fell and she sighed. “All I want is someone to love me as I am.”

“You know, I never thought I’d marry myself,” Anthony admitted. “I just assumed Benedict and Colin would marry and have the heirs.”

“And then Colina dragged Kate to your side.”

“And then Colin dragged - he didn’t drag her,” Anthony said, looking offended.

Y/N gave her brother a withering stare. “I was there, he trampled half a dozen people to get to you that night. Including me.”

“Alright, fine, but she wasn’t dragged,” Anthony conceded.

“No, she was,” Y/N said, nodding.  “Kate detested everything about you. In fact, I’m pretty sure she refused to let her sister marry you because she hated you that much.” Y/N smiled sweetly at Anthony.

“I’m sorry, how did we switch from ‘I’m going to become a spinster’, to ‘my wife hates me’?” Anthony asked, genuinely perplexed. 

“I switched the topic so that I’d stop feeling sorry for myself,” Y/N replied shrugging. She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands onto her stomach. “I’m very good at that tactic.”

Anthony rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. But after a minute he said, “do you truly believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That you’ll never marry.”

Y/N sighed. “I hope I’ll marry some day. But it probably won’t be within the normal and proper timing of society. I shall become a spinster and than I shall marry. Besides, my becoming a spinster means I get to sit with Lady Danbury at the balls and judge everyone.”

“Together, the two of you make a terrifying force,” Anthony muttered. 

“That was the plan, brother mine,” Y/N said, winking at him. She fell serious again and let out another sigh. “One day, I hope to marry. But, until then, I’m content to keep stealing your children.”

[princess-geek]

2021 Summary of Writing

Thank you for tagging me, dear @missameliep !

January 

Dancing is, in a way, like a sword fight - Dominique struggles to tame her granddaughter.  However, only Vincent can understand the heart of a Howard’s woman.

Two girls, a name, the same spirit - There is a German proverb that says: ‘ A good name is a second inheritance.’ Well, in this fic Beatrice has the opportunity of a lifetime.

It lives...and kills the curiosity -  People say the curiosity kills the cat, but Edgewater's children cannot resist to a good mystery. This is an improbable Desire & Decorum X It Lives crossover.

February

Winter Adventures - All’s fair in love and snowballs -  A visit to the Winter Market will teach important to the Foredale siblings. A collab with @ezekielbhandarivalleros​.

Yes...No...Interesting -  An innocent childish game unveils some truths; some of them easier to accept than others. ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ are among the smallest words in the English language ... but they have a lot of power.

Cheeky Monkey -  ‘Trouble’ is Beatrice’s middle name. Fortunately, there is always a knight in shining armour to save her.

The dark side of the moon - The night shadows bring to light some truths about Ledford Park residents.This drabble is a Matthew Sinclaire POV (Ernest’s father is introduced on Chapter IV).

March

Battle of sexes -  They say all is fair in love and war. However, very few have th privilege to leave any of them without scars...if not in the heart, at least in pride. The Foredale clan is growing up so are the problems. But there is no wound that a little of siblings' love does not help to heal.

Chapter V - The Talk -  An incident in the library will open a door to a new world for Beatrice. Edmund opens the doors of his heart.

April

Love is the most reliable compass - Vincent has an idea for a new book and calls upon his favourite reader for brainstorming. This is an improbable Desire & Decorum X  Distant Shores crossover.

May 

Chapter VI - Feelings are scary -  As we grow, there are senses that wake up in us ... intense, confused, different ... and that can be a little scary at first. However, if we take a leap of faith, wonderful things can happen. Sometimes, we come across mazes along the way of life. In order not to get lost, we have to let ourselves be guided by the voice of those who love us.

Spring Adventures -  To celebrate the anniversary of her photography blog, Beatrice decided to do a special photo shoot. As usual, there will shenanigans, troubles and a good deal of laughs. 

June

Summer adventures (I) - A summer tale - Summer brings more time for shenanigans. Beatrice has a new obsession. Ernest is to blame for that. And yes, this is another pointless fic.

Finding my way to you -  Unfortunately, duty rarely sees eye to eye with heart, and Prince Hamid is commissioned for a new potion. Even though his heart is aching with longing, the imperial prince sets off once more towards the unknown. Who knows where or to whom the stars will take him this time.  .(Regency Era)

July

August

Cellar Confessions - Summer Adventures II - An old adage says that ‘a drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts’. Beatrice is about to find out if this is really true.

In another life -  Roselyn Sinclaire reflects in her actions toward her ex-husband.(Regency Era; Desire & Decorum missing scene)

September

Chapter VII - “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?“(Summer Adventure III) - Summer is the season when all is effervescent and free...and with the future knocking at the door, Beatrice is trying to seize the most of it while it lasts. Fortunately, it's never too late to follow our hearts.

October

November

Affairs of the heart - The affairs of the heart are never easy to deal with; whether when love is blooming or withering.

The real treasure - A random moment between Beatrice and Dominique (completely pointless).

December

Tagging: @ezekielbhandarivalleros @secretaryunpaid @storyofmychoices @twinkleallnight @happiness21 @anotherbeingsworld @mm2305​  

In case any of you wish to create one as well, and if you do, please tag me.

[jwnchstr]

I’m Not Those Men

TITLE: I’m Not Those Men

PAIRINGS: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

SUMMARY: After being friends for a few years, Dean started to show interest towards you. He tried many times to say it, but you pushed him away. Until one day, he hurt himself because of you.

******

Imagine being a hunter, always closed to the Winchesters and Bobby and those who are close to him, that sooner you're considered family to them. They've seen the worst part in you and you've seen the worst part in them especially Sam and Dean. There are some men who called themselves alphas (huh, pathetic alphas), who have complicated mood swings more than you do. You've seen how they killed innocent people just to protect their ego. They're seen who you tortured those who possessively wanting you for nothing except being their sex toy. For the best and worst, you stick together like you took an oath.

You and Sam are always friendly. When the weather is right, you will always be seeing together with Sam laughing, joking around and chasing each other like kids in a playground. It's like, you and Sam cannot be together in the same room because both of you will play a lot. Dean hated how you and his younger brother never take things seriously. Well, at least, that is how his brother acts when he's with you. It's like, he is a different person, the exact opposite than the one Dean knew.

Meanwhile Dean is always serious with you although you never took him seriously. Or if it's just how you act around men, no one knows, but that's how it is. Sam never flirted with you. Sam never asked you out on a date. Or if he did – take you to dinner without Dean – he never took it as a date. You're as free as a bird with Sam. But it's a different case with Dean.

Dean, more than once, had asked you out. Well, at least, that's what he thought he's doing. He'd be like, "Sam is not cooking tonight. Wanna go out dinner with me?" And your response will always be, "Sure! I'll ask Sam if he wanted to tag along." And, of course, Sam does because you're going out, too. See, this is also why Dean hated you and Sam together.

Some times, when you have free times, Dean asked if you want to go out and take some fresh air. Dean understood that staying in the bunker is like staying in a prison. No windows to look at the greens outside. No fresh air. Just the ventilator. When he asked if you want to go out, he'd plan to take you to some nice place he knew, be alone with you. Most of the times, you tell him that you're not in a mood to go out or you told him that you and Sam planned to go the grocery store because you're out of stocks in the pantry.

That challenged Dean as a man, truthfully. Why can't you just see it? Why can't you feel it? The pull to be near and close? The tug every time you make eye contact with him? The spark every time you accidentally touched him? Why can't you feel them? And it’s not like Dean had been discreet, but ugh!

Dean continued to try his best to get your attention. Like how he pretended he didn’t understand a certain article. He made you read and explain to him later because seeing how you're so focused whenever discussing with Sam, stirred him inside. Even Sam never understood why Dean is so needy at times.

One day, something happened that changes the relationship between you and Dean. It started when Dean told you, "Hey, I'm going to see Lisa." You knew who Lisa is, of course. His ex-girlfriend. You didn't know, but that happen when he thought he was wrong about his feelings towards you. Turns out, he was wrong about being wrong. You're still the woman he desire to see and be every day.

You gave Dean a look. "And?"

"I want you to come with me," he said, looking at you in the eye, trying to read your emotion.

To be honest, you felt uneasy when Dean told you that he wanted to meet Lisa. Why, though? After years? Did he want to go back together with Lisa? But more importantly, why does he want you to come to meet his ex-girlfriend?

But amidst your thoughts, you just said, "Oh."

"So?"

You were quite for a few seconds, looking around, not wanting to meet his eyes. Without thinking, you said, "I can't. I have a date." And you saw hurt in Dean's eyes. You wanted to take back what you said, but what's said can't be unsaid, you thought. You felt your heart thumped inside your chest.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked through his greeted teeth. "You and Sam?"

"Sam? What? No. It's someone else."

"And you didn't care to tell me?" Dean's voice was deep and rough.

***

You know he is angry. You understand. You didn't actually want to make it hard for both the both of you, but you had to. To tell the truth, you felt everything Dean felt. The tug. The pull. The spark. The need. Ever since you met him. But you had a bad history with boys and men. That's before you met Sam and Dean. You weren't treated right. You were tortured. You were kicked out. You didn't belong to anyone until when you met Sam and Dean, Bobby and the other "family" the Winchesters had. They were the reason you became strong and undefeatable. Yes, they saw you being a killing machine, but years before that, they never knew what actually happened to you and you never opened up.

Being friendly with Sam is everything for you. You feel like Sam is the sibling you never asked for, but blessed with. Him not being possessive, not flirty, not over-protective, supportive, funny and lovely. He's like everything in one. With Sam, you're treated equal. But with Dean, you're treated like you're the most vulnerable person in their life – positively – and that scares you. No man ever treated you like that. You don't know what to do.

You left Dean with the heaviest tug inside your chest. You felt like it's tearing apart. Leaving the person who is waiting for you, it hurts more than anything. Dean quickly left the bunker and stomped the door.

Sam walked into the scene and asked what happened.

You just dismissed it, saying, "Not in his mood, I guess."

He nodded, shrugging it off. "I'm visiting Bobby. You wanna join?"

"Sure!" You smiled widely. The thought of Bobby excites you.

You decided to go the market to buy something for Bobby. Well, something that you can eat properly and together as a family. Bobby doesn't cook much. He usually eat canned food, so you decided that that won't happen tonight to Bobby. You wanted to cook for him, although he might think you lost your mind.

Well, honestly, you just want to forget about Dean for awhile and what he's doing with Lisa right now. It’s agitating you. You do not like knowing Dean going with Lisa although he could say that they only go out as friends. That's where "I have a date" came.

Not long after that, you and Sam arrived at Bobby's. Upon seeing him, you ran towards him and threw yourself at Bobby. Oh, it feels like forever since you last seen him! You missed him so much. And even though his place is....quite of a place, but you like it here. It feels like home.

"How you’re doing?" you asked the older man sitting on the wheelchair with his beer on his lap.

"Same old, same old. Bet you have good news."

You watched Bobby eyeing between you and Sam. Quickly, you said, "No! Me and Sam? No!"

Behind you, Sam laughed while agreeing with you. And even though it was quick, but you saw a slight relieved look on Bobby's face.

"Well, you better not. You're breaking someone's heart if you do. Big time, I tell you."

You smiled bitterly, understood what Bobby was referring to. "Well, cheer up, old man because we're going to have a big dinner tonight!" you announced.

"You’re cooking?" Bobby watched you suspiciously.

"What, you don't think I can cook?" You tried to give Bobby you straight face, but you failed. "Okay, fine. I'm going to need Sam in the kitchen with me."

Three of you chatted for awhile at the front porch, just like you used to back in the day. Bobby with his dad jokes. Sam with his awkward self around girls. You with your stupid imagination that make them think you are actually stupid and no wonder you didn't finish school. Sometimes, Bobby will update you about hunters who left, died or still alive. Sam said that he'll pay them a visit one day and you'll agree with Sam.

Then, you and Sam decided to start cooking for dinner and being you and Sam, it took longer to finish cooking. The laughs, the jokes, the mockery. Good thing, Bobby is used to the two of you, but he still gave you and Sam a look of irritation at the dining table and babbled about how you guys took so long to cook and how he is already hungry and ready to die.

In the midst of having dinner, your phone suddenly rang. You took a look at it. Sam peeked. You didn't want to pick it up, but Sam insisted. He knew his brother so much. Dean wouldn't call on a free time unless something is happening.

"Dean?"

"(Y/N)!" It's Lisa's voice.

Your heart skipped a beat hearing Lisa’s voice instead of Dean. Sam was right. Something is happening to Dean. Otherwise, it won’t be Lisa who’s calling. "Lisa, what happened?"

Lisa? Sam looked at you worried – worried for his brother, worried for you.

"Dean. He's hurt.”

"He's going out with you?" you asked.

"He's supposed to, but he didn't turn up. I tried to call him, but he didn't pick up. So I came to look for him."

"I take that you found him?" You heart is thumping on your ear. Your head felt like it's going to explode. God, what did I do to him?

"Yes. He's passed out. I don't know what happened to him, but seems like he hurt himself."

Your heart stopped. "What–"

"There’s blood on his hands,” Lisa said. “(Y/n), come here quick. I don’t know if he’s safe."

"Share me the location. I'll be there now."

*****

Turned out, Dean was overdose from his favourite beer. Everyone knows damn well that it took Dean a full bottle of beer to get drunk, but now that he’s passed out, god knows how much Dean have drink them. Oh, and the blood on his hands? They’re his. Logically, out of anger, Dean threw the glass bottle and hurt himself.

Dean was taken to the bunker as soon as you and Sam found him with Lisa nearby. Lisa looked so worried while she stayed close to Dean. She tried to explain again how she’s supposed to meet Dean just to catch up some things, but Dean didn’t turn up. Before you and Sam left, you thanked Lisa for staying with Dean until you came.

“What was he thinking?” you voiced out as you sat with Sam at the reading table, staring into spaces as you tried to understand why Dean suddenly behaved like how he behaved. “If he wants to meet Lisa, why should I come along? He could just meet her and talk to her and I don’t have to interfere their meeting.”

Sam was quiet and stared at you while you talked.

“And now he’s hurt. Worrying us while we have a lot of hunts to be done.” You shook your head. “Gosh. How cheap is he that he hurt himself just because he wants an attention from-”

“You,” Sam cut you off.

“What?” Your eyes shot at Sam, glaring at him as if he were accusing you committing a crime. “Sam, you’re-”

“Dean likes you. He wants you,” Sam continued. “He’s been showing all the signs but you didn’t notice it. He thinks this is the only way to get your attention.”

“I thought I gave him enough attention.”

“Yes, but not as he hoped for,” Sam explained.

You felt something caught in your throat. Indeed, you’ve been avoiding all the possibilities you two could have been. You never intended to reject Dean nor telling him that you do not want him like how he wants you, but you do not know how to do this. You grew up accepting people only then you’ve been pushed.

Your eyes watered. “I don’t know how to do this, Sam,” you confessed to your best friend. “I had bad experiences with men before and I can’t-”

“Maybe if you give me a chance, I can show you that I’m not those men.”

Your head snapped towards the direction where the voice came from. There, Dean stood, though still looking sick, but still look strong.

[writingwithacupoftea]

Just need my big brother

Summary: After a busy day at work, Y/N Shelby realises that maybe she does still need her big brother after all.

Word Count: 1562

A/N: This is the first piece of writing that I’ve ever shared online! Hope you enjoy it!

It had been a long day, and Y/N Shelby was exhausted.

Y/N was one of the few of the Shelby clan who had succeeded in gaining an education.  Although the war had made it difficult, Y/N had brought it upon herself to push on at double speed to teach herself reading, writing and arithmetic.  Not only did she want to help out at the betting shop, she also wanted to make her brothers proud when they returned (when they return, she often had to remind herself), especially Tommy.

Polly often commented on the similarities between Y/N and Tommy, and it was obvious to anyone that saw them together that they were each other's favourite sibling.  By the age of 18, Polly had been proven right (as usual) - not only did Y/N possess her beloved elder brother's way with words, but she was also had his confidence and intelligence.  One thing that the women were sure on, however, was that Tommy's mathematical abilities came nowhere near to Y/N's. She was a miracle worker when it came to numbers and could understand the figures like no one else in the company.

When the boys returned a year later, expecting to see their little sister waiting excitedly at the train station for them with plaits in her hair, exactly the same as when they left her, they were astonished to learn that she was out on business.

In fact, the first that they saw of her after four long years was her yelling at a group of blinders in Tommy's old office at the shop, who were staring at the floor and shuffling their feet in embarrassment.  Y/N Shelby was quite a different person to the one that the brothers had left behind, but she suited it well, they thought.  However, her overjoyed reaction upon seeing her brothers proved that maybe there was a portion of the old Y/N left.

And that point was going to be proven to Tommy once again tonight.

Tommy had always been especially protective over Y/N, and after overcoming his shock at seeing her reformed character had been furious that she had become so involved with both sides of the business: even though he barely showed it, he was terrified that something would happen to his baby sister, and Y/N knew that.  His overprotectiveness could be annoying, but she always knew that it came from a place of love.  Anyway, she always got her way with him in the end.  And so, after many arguments and family meetings, it was agreed that she could continue her work within the business.  Tommy couldn't deny that she was talented at what she did, and was beyond proud of his little sister (but of course the great Thomas Shelby struggled to say it in so many words).

Now, several months later, Y/N stumbled into the Shelby residence, exhausted.  She loved her work and pored all of her energy into it, but today had got to her.  Pushing on, however, she set out to find Tommy.  Y/N had just finished in a meeting, and knew that Tommy liked to know the details as soon as possible, despite her desire to collapse on her bed with a glass of gin.

To her complete and utter shock, Tommy was not in his office, as she would honestly usually expect him to be at ten o'clock at night.  Nor was he in the kitchen, and she knew that he wasn't at the Garrison as she'd popped in there before heading back.

Surely Thomas Shelby wasn't having an early night?

Slowly, Y/N made her way up the stairs and towards her elder brother's bedroom, where a light was shining through under the door frame. She knocked gently and after hearing him say "Come in," she pushed the door open.

Y/N was greeted with a sight that she hadn't born witness to in a long time: Tommy laid on his bed and smoking a cigarette, with his hair messy and simply wearing his undershirt and trousers, suspenders hanging loosely by his side.  His eyes softened as he saw his sister, and for once Y/N only saw her brother.  Not Thomas Shelby, her boss, just her big brother who she adored.

"Hello, sweetheart," Tommy said. "I was wondering when you would get back, I was starting to worry." He raised his eyebrows, silently posing a question which she understood perfectly.  Over the years the pair had mastered the art of communicating without words.

"Well you don't look like you were," Y/N replied with a mischievous tone in her voice, smirking slightly, causing Tommy to send her 'a look'.  "I'm fine, Tommy.  Mr Addison just didn't want to end his meeting with me, I was starting to think I was destined to never leave that office" she continued with a sigh, making her way over to him.  Her last sentence caused Tommy to tense, and he sat up straighter.

"Why, what happened?" A million different nightmarish possibilities began plaguing his thoughts, and he started to assess his little sister to see if there was even a single hair out of place.  Tommy was still firmly against Y/N attending meetings with potential clients and partners alone, however today had left him with no choice but to let her do so.  Whilst he had been busy himself, he had frequently found his thoughts straying to his sister.

Y/N put her coat on the back of Tommy's chair and placed her bag next to it.  "Nothing like what's running through your head at the moment, Tommy, I promise.  Just a few comments and looks, nothing I can't handle." Tommy wore a disapproving look, but this shifted to one of concern when he saw the dark circles under his sister's eyes.  She sat on the edge of his bed and laid her head on his knees (it was an uncomfortable position for her, but Y/N was honestly too tired to care).  "Do you mind if we go over the meeting in the morning? I made some notes, I'm just exhausted now."

"Of course, darling." It was spoken with such softness that Y/N turned her head to look at her brother, who had a gentle smile on his face.  He knew how hard his sister worked, and if he could he'd try and get her to slow down, but after several failed attempts to do so in the past Tommy realised that there was no point in wasting his breath.

But when he saw the glimmer of tears in Y/N's eyes, he knew that she'd probably pushed herself a bit too far this time.  In a rare display of vulnerability, Y/N whispered: "Right now, I just need my big brother," and Tommy's heart melted as she rested her head once again on his legs.

"Come here," Tommy said, stubbing out his cigarette and opening his arms up.  Without a moment's hesitation, Y/N clambered up onto the bed next to him and instantly relaxed into her brother's embrace.

The position wasn't exactly unfamiliar – before the war, Y/N had always come running to the middle brother when she had a nightmare, or couldn't get to sleep, or when she missed him and just wanted to say hello, the list of reasons was endless.  She had relied on him so much, and Tommy had never been able to complain, not when his friends would make fun of him for it or if she interrupted his time with Greta.  Y/N Mae Shelby was the complete and utter light of his life, and she still was.  Since the war, however, Y/N had become far more independent.  Not that that was a bad thing, Tommy thought, but he can't help but admit that he sometimes misses her simply being his little sister.  She'd grown up too fast for his liking.  But then again, she was a young woman now and not a child.

So Tommy cherished moments like these, his little angel curled up safely in his arms, just like the old days.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and rubbed his hand up and down her arm comfortingly, and in return she just squeezed him tighter and snuggled even more into his side.

"I know you don't exactly need me anymore, but I'll always make room for you, sweet girl," Tommy mumbled into Y/N's hair.  "And I'm proud of you.  So fucking proud.  You don't need to prove anything to me or push yourself this hard to show your worth.  Don't think I could run this business without you now." The siblings chuckled, though Y/N's was a watery one.  “Just try and look after yourself a bit more, eh?” As he felt her nod her head, a sense of relief washed over him.  He would always still keep an eye on her, it was his job as an elder brother, but he was happy to have finally got through to her.  Tommy placed another kiss on the top of his sister’s head.

"Love you, Tom." Y/N had said it so quietly that Tommy could’ve easily missed it.  But he never missed a thing when it came to his beloved sister, and his heart swelled at her statement.

"Love you more, sweetheart."

As she sighed contentedly, Y/N realised that, no matter what, she would always need her favourite big brother.  And nothing was going to change that any time soon.

[megashadowdragon]

In the upcoming The Winds of Winter many characters we've come to know and love are going to intersect with each other. Their personalities and backstories are going to collide and the result of the concoction is going to vary from character to character.

In this thread, I'm going to touch on the interactions between two individuals that, weirdly enough, don't seem to get a lot of attention from the fandom in regards to how a potential interaction between the two might go down.

These two being Tyrion Lannister and Victarion Greyjoy.

On examination, there couldn't be two characters more different than each other. In a way, they're almost perfect foils to each other. Before I get into any foreshadowing indicated in the text of the books, I think it be best if I laid down some of these differences to give you guys an idea:

Tyrion has a sharp mind and uses this to great effect in understanding people's motivations and the politics surrounding them. Victarion is described as a "dullard" and "dumb as a stump" by GRRM himself, with not much knowledge or interest in the ways of greater politics.

Tyrion uses his wit to make jokes to entertain himself and those around him. Victarion heavily dislikes humor and it's even indicated in the text that he "mistrusts laughter".

Tyrion is a small, stunted dwarf with not much in the way of physical prowess. Victarion is a tall, muscular man who is a renowned warrior with great strength.

Tyrion regularly dismisses and mocks the idea of gods existing, thinking that all the suffering in the world proves that no gods are looking out for anyone.

If there are gods to listen, they are monstrous gods who torment us for their sport. Who else would make a world like this, so full of bondage, blood, and pain? Who else would shape us as they have? - Tyrion ADWD

Victarion is an extremely devout religious man that believes that the suffering in life is the proof of a god existing.

Life is pain, you fool. There is no joy but in the Drowned God’s watery halls. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

Now, I've listed these differences to give an idea on how these two could easily be connected as foils to each other, but surprisingly there's also some similarities between the two that connects them further:

Both Tyrion and Victarion have murdered former lovers of theirs after they betrayed them by sleeping with a family member. Victarion kills his wife after sleeping with his brother Euron and Tyrion murders Shae after she sleeps with his father Tywin. Both using their own hands to do it. (Tyrion strangling Shae and Victarion beating his wife to death with his fists).

Both were betrayed by their brother and have a desire to seek vengeance against them and destroy them.

Both have met Moqorro at sea and Moqorro has stated prophecies to both of them.

Both have fought and commanded in naval warfare. Both utilising fire in a naval battle (Tyrion with wildfire at the Blackwater and Victarion throwing the first torch onto Tywin's ship at the burning of Lannisport).

Both are seeking out Daenerys to use her for vengeance against their family. Tyrion with his siblings and his father's legacy and Victarion against his brother Euron.

So, now that the differences and similarities between the two characters have been established, I'll move onto what an interaction between these two might entail and what purpose it would serve.

The Monkey Demon

“We have become swollen, bloated, foul. Brother couples with sister in the bed of kings, and the fruit of their incest capers in his palace to the piping of a twisted little monkey demon.” A preacher at King's Landing ACOK.

“The dwarf, the evil counselor, the twisted little monkey demon. I’m all that stands between them and chaos.” - Tyrion ACOK

Tyrion Lannister, the monkey demon. Once tried to save a city and gain the people's love, found none and was promptly punted into a cell. Tried to work in his family interests, even if it meant defending the crown of a worm-lipped tyrant born out of incest, was turned on and blamed for the tyrant's downfall. Tried to find love in the arms of a whore and found out whores don't play fair (or where they go). All attempts, all that effort to seek validation had blown up in his face.

So, what's left?

The game of thrones, of course. You know, the very game that produces complete sociopaths like Varys and Petyr Baelish. With every other avenue denied to him, what else would be left for our favourite pampered lil shit Tyrion Lannister?

A man who's been denied everything and who has now found a re-newed purpose in life through a game of manipulation and deception. An individual with obligations no longer holding him down. No family to support, no love from the masses to be gained, nothing. All that's left is to engage in a game where self-gratification can be bought and the chance to tear down the old ghosts that persistently haunt him.

I won't engage too much into the finer details of Tyrion's character arc, but I highly recommend reading this excellent essay meereeneseblot . wordpress . com/2013/11/22/paying-his-debts-part-i-tyrion-in-kings-landing/ to better understand where Tyrion's arc will be going into TWOW.

So, our favourite dwarf finds himself traveling (waddling) to Meeren, hoping to seek the favour of the beautiful Queen Daenaerys Targaryen. Under siege with dubious allies and dragons you want to use to burn down your family's legacy, but they're too busy swarming the air like horny mosquitos...

But.... what's this? Ironborn swarming ashore? What the fuc-... With a complete donkey-brain of a captain leading them and who's just ready to be manipulated, you say? AND he wants to use Daenarys for his own ends too?

Muy bueno.

Now, to get to the point of the essay.

The Iron Captain

The Drowned God had not shaped Victarion Greyjoy to fight with words at kingsmoots, nor struggle against furtive sneaking foes in endless bogs. This was why he had been put on earth; to stand steel-clad with an axe red and dripping in his hand, dealing death with every blow. - The Reaver AFFC

So, I've showcased that Victarion Greyjoy's character is not one to dabble in higher politics or any other high-minded thinking. He's a man bred for splitting an enemy's skull in two with his axe, not someone trying to worm his way into people's confidences with false charm to achieve their own ends. Unfortunately for him, he's about to come across somebody who is.

A monkey on the mast above howled derision, almost as if it could taste his frustration. Filthy, noisy beast. He could send a man up after it, but the monkeys seemed to like that game and had proved themselves more agile than his crew. The howls rang in his ears, though, and made the throbbing in his hand seem worse. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

The moniker that's been labelled for Tyrion of "Monkey demon" earlier in ACOK has made a comeback by GRRM in Victarion's ADWD chapters to foreshadow their relationship going into TWOW. And what that relationship will entail, I think I can safely say, will not be a positive one. Not for Victarion anyways.

The monkeys, though … the monkeys were a plague. Victarion had forbidden his men to bring any of the demonic creatures aboard ship, yet somehow half his fleet was now infested with them, even his own Iron Victory. He could see some now, swinging from spar to spar and ship to ship. Would that I had a crossbow - The Iron Suitor ADWD

So, we can see that the passage likely connects Tyrion with the "monkey" moniker by way of referencing a "crossbow" as well as the word "demonic". As we all know, a crossbow is what Tyrion used to slay his father in ASOS. The mention of a crossbow in conjunction with monkeys being described as "demonic", I think we can safely say that Tyrion is being referenced by GRRM in Victarion's chapters .

Okay, so let's assume that Tyrion is referenced in these passages. What does it mean?

Here's what I believe: Tyrion, upon encountering Victarion, would have the judge of his character. Tyrion outclasses Victarion in every way when it comes to intelligence, wit, and manipulation. The two are at the same location (Meeren) and both want the favour of Daenarys. It seems inevitable that the two characters will cross paths. Tyrion would realise that this is a man that he can outwit and use for his own ends.

The first passage describes negatives feelings felt by Victarion at the monkey's "howling". This, I believe, is foreshadowing of Tyrion's attempts to manipulate Victarion. The "howling" used in substitute and reference to the lies that Tyrion will use on Victarion and his men.

Victarion's "frustration" is telling. There are two other characters in the series that aren't as versed in dealing with manipulation and the game of thrones in general, like Victarion. Those two being Eddard Stark and Barristan Selmy, and they reacted in similar ways to manipulation used on them.

“Most likely the king did not know,” Littlefinger said. “It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see.” Ned had no reply for that. The face of the butcher’s boy swam up before his eyes, cloven almost in two, and afterward the king had said not a word. His head was pounding. - Eddard AGOT

“Volantis.” Selmy’s sword hand tingled. We made a peace with Yunkai. Not with Volantis. “You are certain?”

“Certain. The Wise Masters know. So do their friends. The Harpy, Reznak, Hizdahr. This king will open the city gates to the Volantenes when they arrive. All those Daenerys freed will be enslaved again. Even some who were never slaves will be fitted for chains. You may end your days in a fighting pit, old man. Khrazz will eat your heart.”

His head was pounding. “Daenerys must be told.” -The Queensguard ADWD

When Ned encounters a lie by Littlefinger when they talk to him, it's described in the text as his "head pounding". The same happens when Barristan talks to the Shavepate in Meereen. It's likely that the Shavepate has his own agendas and when Barristan hears him he has the same reaction as Ned in where his "head pounds". The implication being that they instinctively know it's a lie, but can't grasp the higher details and fully realise it.

Victarion isn't an honourable man like Eddard and Barristan, but he shares the same ineptitude regarding the game of thrones as they do. The reaction isn't the exact same, but it's described in similar negative detail that taxes him. We can also refer to Barristan's passage where his hand "tingles" during the exchange, just as Victarion's hand "throbs" from the monkeys.

So, what is Tyrion's goal and why would he even need to bother with Victarion and his crew? We can refer back to this passage in Tyrion's final POV chapter in ADWD:

“I am dancing as fast as I can.” He wanted to laugh, but that would have ruined the game. Plumm was enjoying this, and Tyrion had no intention of spoiling his fun. Let him go on thinking that he’s bent me over and fucked me up the arse, and I’ll go on buying steel swords with parchment dragons. If ever he went back to Westeros to claim his birthright, he would have all the gold of Casterly Rock to make good on his promises - Tyrion ADWD

Tyrion's ultimate goal from ADWD and going forward is to tear down his father's legacy and to wreck vengeance upon his siblings. In order to achieve this, he has to acquire power. It's my belief that he'll try to persuade Victarion's men to fight for his cause. In the same way he swindled the Second Sons with promises of riches of Casterly Rock, I believe he'll do the same with Victarion's men.

To get a better picture of the character of the Ironborn soldiers I refer to this passage:

His words drew mutters of assent. “Slaver’s Bay is too far,” called out Ralf the Limper. “And too close to Valyria,” shouted Quellon Humble. Fralegg the Strong said, “Highgarden’s close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!” Alvyn Sharp said, “Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?” Red Ralf Stonehouse bounded to his feet. “Oldtown is richer, and the Arbor richer still. Redwyne’s fleet is off away. We need only reach out our hand to pluck the ripest fruit in Westeros.”

“Fruit?” The king’s eye looked more black than blue. “Only a craven would steal a fruit when he could take the orchard.”

“It is the Arbor we want,” said Red Ralf, and other men took up the cry. The Crow’s Eye let the shouts wash over him. Then he leapt down from the table, grabbed his slattern by the arm, and pulled her from the hall.

- The Reaver AFFC

Euron Greyjoy, the king of the Ironborn, proposes an ambitious plan of acquiring dragons to rule all of Westeros, but his Ironborn soldiers opt for the easy way out. A way that will require less effort and with the promises of quick riches. Why sail half a world away when the gold is in their backyards?

The ironmen that have sailed with Victarion, will see the imp bearing his promises, and might just decide that he's their ticket to a grander prize. Their Iron Captain is a formidable warrior, aye, but Casterly Rock would have all the riches they need, and who better to offer them than the rightful born heir of Casterly Rock?

We've already seen Victarion's men turn on him before:

Victarion grabbed him by the forearm. “Refuse him!”

Nute looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Refuse him? Lands and lordship? Will you make me a lord?” He wrenched his arm away and stood, basking in the cheers.

And now he steals my men away, Victarion thought. - The Reaver AFFC

As I've highlighted in the first two passages, the monkeys are described as being more "agile" (more cunning) than Victarion's crew and infesting "half of them". It makes sense, since it's not like Tyrion can swindle 100 percent of Victarion's crew, but at least half of them? That doesn't seem like too much of a challenge, given what we know of the Ironborn's character.

Victarion Greyjoy mistrusted laughter. The sound of it always left him with the uneasy feeling that he was the butt of some jape he did not understand. Euron Crow’s Eye had oft made mock of him when they were boys. So had Aeron, before he had become the Damphair. Their mockery oft came disguised as praise, and sometimes Victarion had not even realized he was being mocked. Not until he heard the laughter. Then came the anger, boiling up in the back of his throat until he was like to choke upon the taste. That was how he felt about the monkeys. Their antics never brought so much as a smile to the captain’s face, though his crew would roar and hoot and whistle. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

“You have a gift for making men smile,” Septa Lemore told Tyrion as he was drying off his toes. “You should thank the Father Above. He gives gifts to all his children.”

“He does,” he agreed pleasantly. And when I die, please let them bury with me a crossbow, so I can thank the Father Above for his gifts the same way I thanked the father below. - Tyrion ADWD

For half a year he cartwheeled his merry way about Casterly Rock, bringing smiles to the faces of septons, squires, and servants alike. Even Cersei laughed to see him once or twice. All that ended abruptly the day his father returned from a sojourn in King’s Landing. That night at supper Tyrion surprised his sire by walking the length of the high table on his hands. Lord Tywin was not pleased. “The gods made you a dwarf. Must you be a fool as well? You were born a lion, not a monkey.” - Tyrion ADWD

Tyrion will use his personality to amuse and charm a majority of the Iron Fleet's crew, all so he can win them over and bond them to him, but Victarion won't be amused. We've already seen Tyrion's prowess used to great effect in winning over a crowd during his slave auction and he'll do the same with The Ironborn by playing the part of an amusing fool; "dancing" and making witty jokes to the bemusement of the knuckleheads from the Iron Islands.

He could send a man up after it, but the monkeys seemed to like that game

Victarion had forbidden his men to bring any of the demonic creatures aboard ship, yet somehow half his fleet was now infested with them, even his own Iron Victory.

Their antics never brought so much as a smile to the captain’s face, though his crew would roar and hoot and whistle.

Victarion may have some vague idea that the "monkeys" are nothing but trouble for his crew, but like Eddard and Barristan, he can't quite grasp the finer details of what a game of thrones player like Tyrion is trying to achieve exactly. He doesn't see the capering little monkey as someone trying to swindle his crew right from under him. "and sometimes Victarion had not even realized he was being mocked. Not until he heard the laughter. "

Because ultimately, the joke is on Victarion. The Monkey Demon makes his japes and charms all, while laughing from above at the dumb brute who can only frown his displeasure and not realise what the monkey has in store for him, until it's too late. And Victarion, finally realising the punchline too late, will be the biggest mistake of his life.

The Glory That Awaits

"The Lord of Light has shown me your worth, Lord Captain. Every night in my fires I glimpse the glory that awaits you." - Victarion ADWD

One of the biggest constants in Victarion's arc is that he's basically a born stooge. He's being manipulated by characters superior in intelligence than him, and while these manipulations haven't born fruit so far in AFFC and ADWD, I think they'll finally bloom and bite him in his kraken ass in TWOW.

Moqorro

Euron

Tyrion

It's been heavily implied in the text that all three characters are going to use him just to achieve their ends. The only character that hasn't interacted with him yet is Tyrion, but the first two share something in common that I think will translate over to Tyrion's machinations as well. That something being dragons.

Euron gifts him with a dragonhorn and bonehead extraordinaire Victarion thinks that he'll use it for his own benefit and snag himself a dragon. As if Euron would be stupid enough to allow Victarion to do that.

Euron was a fool to give me this, it is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I’ll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I’ll win the world. - Victarion TWOW

Interesting that the word "fool" is invoked for Euron, a man who is more cunning than Victarion by miles. After all, you don't just secure a kingship like Euron did through sheer luck.

That's what the dancing little monkey will seem like to Victarion as well. Lord Tywin, a man after Victarion's own heart because he never smiled or laughed, wasn't amused by the monkey's antics either:

Lord Tywin’s mouth tightened. “Very droll. Shall I have them sew you a suit of motley, and a little hat with bells on it?” - Tyrion ASOS

He considered Tyrion a motley wearing fool. We all know how that ended for Tywin.

Moqorro then tells him that in order to capture the dragon for himself, he must claim the dragonhorn with his own blood.

“Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you.” Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. “Here. ‘Blood for fire, fire for blood.’ Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn’s master. You must claim the horn. With blood.” - Victarion ADWD

So, the first two characters are connected via the use of the dragonhorn. Judging what we know from Euron's character, it's extremely likely that he's pulling one over on Victarion for his own ends. Since I've established that Tyrion is also going to do the same through this essay, it's highly likely Moqorro is just using Victarion as well.

Here we see Moqorro relaying a prophecy to Tyrion:

“Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all.”

“Snarling? An amiable fellow like me?” Tyrion was almost flattered. And no doubt that is just what he intends. Every fool loves to hear that he’s important. “Perhaps it was Penny you saw. We’re almost of a size.”

“No, my friend.”

My friend? When did that happen, I wonder? - Tyrion ADWD

Definition of amiable:

friendly, sociable, and congenial. generally agreeable

Definition of snarling:

Something used by predators before they rip your throat out.

Moqorro's label cuts to the heart of the matter, despite Tyrion's "incredulous" reaction to it.

How can the jovial, charming little dwarf be anything but a good, fun time? "Snarling"? Does it "look" like he wants to burn down all of Westeros just to get some empty satisfaction at the downfall of his family? Does it "look" like he wants to use people less intelligent than him to achieve those ends?

Yes, Tyrion. Yes it does.

So, onto the next point. Since we've established that Tyrion doesn't have Victarion's best interests at heart, there's a question we should ask ourselves here: Why would Moqorro consider Tyrion a friend if he can see that he'll just end up using Victarion? His prophecies seem to be pretty on point in judging future events and how it relates to people, so why look so highly upon the dwarf?

It's because Moqorro is manipulating Victarion for his own ends as well. If he was Victarion's true ally, he wouldn't be so chummy with Tyrion.

Considering Moqorro looks so favorably upon Tyrion, his claims to Victarion that he can claim the dragon for his own are dubious. Moqorro's prophecy for "the glory that awaits him" to Victarion may not be the glorious ending Victarion thinks it'll be. Since Moqorro is a priest of fire, the "glory" he speaks of is something that he himself finds glorious. Fire.

During Victarion's travelogue in ADWD, he starts to incorporate The Lord of Light's beliefs for his own and mixes it with his belief of the Drowned God.

He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god’s voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.

But he would feed the red god too, Moqorro’s fire god. The arm the priest had healed was hideous to look upon, pork crackling from elbow to fingertips. Sometimes when Victarion closed his hand the skin would split and smoke, yet the arm was stronger than it had ever been. “Two gods are with me now,” he told the dusky woman. “No foe can stand before two gods." - Victarion ADWD

In one final, humiliating punchline, the Iron Captain will serve his two gods. But not in the way he intended.

“Might be his robes caught fire, so he jumped overboard to put them out,” suggested Longwater Pyke, to general laughter. Even the monkeys were amused. They chattered overhead, and one flung down a handful of his own shit to spatter on the boards. -The Iron Suitor ADWD

The captain could not abide lies, so he had the Ghiscari captain bound hand and foot and thrown overboard, a sacrifice to the Drowned God. “Your red god will have his due,” he promised Moqorro, “but the seas are ruled by the Drowned God.”- Victarion ADWD

The captain answered with a nod, grim-faced, then called for the seven girls he had claimed to be brought on deck, the loveliest of all those found aboard the Willing Maiden. He kissed them each upon the cheeks and told them of the honor that awaited them, though they did not understand his words. Then he had them put aboard the fishing ketch that they had captured, cut her loose, and had her set afire.

“With this gift of innocence and beauty, we honor both the gods,” he proclaimed, as the warships of the Iron Fleet rowed past the burning ketch. “Let these girls be reborn in light, undefiled by mortal lust, or let them descend to the Drowned God’s watery halls, to feast and dance and laugh until the seas dry up.” - Victarion ADWD

His plan to snatch a dragon and win the world will backfire horribly. Believing he'll become Aegon the Conquerer come again, he uses the dragonhorn to bring a dragon to him. Since the dragonhorn is at least six feet long, it'd be a pain and seem redundant to move it from the deck of The Iron Victory. Thinking the dragon will be binded to him, he'll be happy as a pig in shit when the horn gets tooted like an old lady's fart.

That is, until the dragon swoops down and opens his maw to unleash a nuclear holocaust on his sorry ass.

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning. Oh, he thought. Then he began to scream. - The Dragontamer ADWD

It's not too far-fetched to say the passage connects with Victarion, considering his arm and hand have already been described as split and smoking. It's also isn't the first time his hand is referenced, as I've stated before in the reference to Barristan Selmy. Both references coming from the same book ADWD.

Engulfed in dragonfire, he'll have no choice but to jump overboard into the sea. That'll snuff the flames right ou-

The white roses drew back, as men always did at the sight of Victarion Greyjoy armed and armored, his face hidden behind his kraken helm. They were clutching swords and spears and axes, but nine of every ten wore no armor, and the tenth had only a shirt of sewn scales. These are no ironmen, Victarion thought. They still fear drowning. - The Reaver AFFC

None of his men had seen what became of the knight after he went over the side, however. Most like the man had drowned. “May he feast as he fought, in the Drowned God’s watery halls.” Though the men of the Shield Islands called themselves sailors, they crossed the seas in dread and went lightly clad in battle for fear of drowning. Young Serry had been different. A brave man, thought Victarion. Almost ironborn. - The Reaver AFFC

In a buy two-get-one free deal, the char-coaled Iron Captain will serve his two gods, sinking like a rock to the bottom of the ocean to feast in the watery halls of the Drowned God for eternity. The Monkey Demon laughing and capering all the while.

At least the Drowned God will be impressed with the Kraken armor.

The End

So, in a final analysis, I believe Tyrion will convince at least half, if not most of Victarion's crew to join in his cause, thinking they'll be rich beyond their wildest of dreams, not realising that they're just expendable pawns for Tyrion to fulfil his desire for vengeance.

While the exact logistics of how Tyrion is involved in Victarion's death escape me, I certainly believe he'll have a part in it. As I've stated before, Tyrion will likely be involved with Victarion and his plot for dragons just like Moqorro and Euron.

The white cyvasse dragon ended up at Tyrion’s feet. He scooped it off the carpet and wiped it on his sleeve, but some of the Yunkish blood had collected in the fine grooves of the carving, so the pale wood seemed veined with red. “All hail our beloved queen, Daenerys.” Be she alive or be she dead. He tossed the bloody dragon in the air, caught it, grinned. - Tyrion TWOW

It'd also be guesswork on my part to write what exact manipulations and lies Tyrion will utilise on Victarion and his men through dialogue, but I think my rough sketch is enough to give a general idea for the direction they'll likely take.

Considering that Tyrion is inevitably going to meet with Daenerys, and since it's not like he has any easy passage to any other location, he'll likely be at Meeren for a good while.

And since it seems highly unlikely that Victarion will just be killed off at the Battle of Fire, considering he's been chronicled and built up in the past two books, I think it's safe to assume that the two will have lengthy interactions with each other while they're stuck in Meereen.

Whether or not Victarion will be around long enough to meet the fair-haired queen of his dreams is unknown, but it's possible he'll be dead before then.

After all, wouldn't it be a worthy prize for our beloved imp to come bearing gifts of a naval fleet bonded to him to the lovely Queen Daenerys? All from him, no other person claiming ownership of them.

"The old captain? Eh, he wouldn't have been as generous as me."

Despite all of that, despite all the manipulations and deceit, will Tyrion be truly satisfied at the end result?

That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood. He was in the midst of it, dealing death with an axe as big as he was, fighting side by side with Barristan the Bold and Bittersteel as dragons wheeled across the sky above them. In the dream he had two heads, both noseless. His father led the enemy, so he slew him once again. Then he killed his brother, Jaime, hacking at his face until it was a red ruin, laughing every time he struck a blow. Only when the fight was finished did he realize that his second head was weeping. - Tyrion ADWD

[lassostark]

Summary:

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two.

The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes Geralt poetry and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet.

How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

Excerpt:

Dear Heart,

You’re the moon And the world is a lonely wolf; It cries at the sight of you For you are glorious And so out of reach.

Yours, Dandelion

~

“Ooh, another one from Dandelion!”

“Wha— really?”

“Where?”

“Move over, let me read!”

“That’s the second time this week! They’re being productive, eh?”

“Has anybody told Rivia yet? Oh, wait there’s— Triss! Hey! Have you seen Geralt?”

“I just got in, Duny. What is it?”

“Dandelion posted another poem at the wall.”

“Bloody hell, they’re on a roll.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Piss off, Chireadan. Nobody asked you.”

“Okay, Geralt just replied ‘on my way’. Where’s the poem?”

“It’s up there, the blue circle post-it.”

“… Oh. That’s quite painful.”

“I know.”

“They’re pining so hard they could build a forest.”

There’s a collective sigh of exasperation.

“Again, Chireadan: piss off.”

~

Jaskier slings his bag over his shoulder and closes his locker with a soft thud before going the opposite direction where the small crowd is forming in front of The Freedom Wall.

When he was in freshman year, the bulletin first gained popularity after the student council during that year proposed it to the school as a way to encourage freedom of expression amongst its students in Morhen Academy. Since then, the school never took the bulletin off, and it gradually became a safe space for students to express their thoughts, opinions, as well as anonymously divulge their secrets and desires. For Jaskier, who’s now in his last year of high school, utilising The Freedom Wall for the past year and a half as a means to share his poetry without compromising his identity has become both a blessing and a curse.

It’s a blessing because he can write and post his poetry while his identity remains safe, having come up with the moniker of Dandelion after his favourite flower. Not that anyone would think to guess it’s him. Nobody knows that Jaskier is a lovesick poet, that he has filled out dozens and dozens of pages of writing he hasn’t shared to anyone. Until that fateful day.

It’s a curse because while he pours his heart out into his notebook with prose and verses, some carrying a tune more than others — it’s not like it’ll make the object of his (albeit secret) affections notice Jaskier. Even if he puts up a large neon sign over his head, there’s just no way Geralt Rivia, resident captain of the Morhen Wolves rugby team, would look twice at him and think that those pretty words written for him could ever come from someone like Jaskier.

There’s just no way.

He’s been setting himself up for disappointment and heartbreak from the start, he knows that. He’s more than aware of that fact. But let it not be said that Jaskier Pankratz has always had a dreadful habit of hurting himself further.

Jaskier grows up with two parents and two older siblings. One of his early memories about his parents is that they always fought, and his siblings always bullied him just because he was the youngest.

Jaskier is six when he made his first friend.

He and one Geralt Rivia became inseparable after Geralt pushed their classmate Valdo Marx on the playground after he shoved Jaskier to get to the swing first.

They played together, had recess together. Some weekends, they would sleepover at each other’s place, though Jaskier preferred staying over at Geralt’s because he was scared that if his best friend heard his parents fight, then Geralt wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Jaskier is nine when his parents separated.

He and Geralt still have sleepovers, but it’s Jaskier who often stays at his best friend’s place. He also adores Geralt’s mum. Visenna Rivia being an excellent baker and never failing to indulge the young boys’ every whim.

~

It’s later in the week and Jaskier has sequestered himself in his usual corner at the cafeteria. His packed lunch has always been the same since freshman year. The sandwich of the week (it’s tuna this time), a pear (it varies, sometimes it’s an apple, sometimes it’s grapes), and a juice box and bottled water.

He likes the quiet. Prefers it, really. But sometimes he’ll be joined by a couple of his friends. Chireadan, Renfri, Shani, and Priscilla are the ones who frequent his table at the corner. Triss, who’s Jaskier’s lab partner this year, as well as Duny and Pavetta, join him on occasion. But most of the time, Jaskier has the table to himself. And he’s perfectly fine with it, too.

With his creative mind, all he needs is his brown leather-bound notebook and favourite pen, and it’s more than enough. It should be.

Jaskier is munching on his pear while fiddling with a torn bracelet he’s decided to use as a bookmark for his notebook when he hears boisterous laughter across the cafeteria. He looks up, only to see the rugby team on the long table they pushed together in the middle of the area to accommodate the dozen players that make up the Morhen Wolves. They’re talking animatedly, voices loud and piercing, while others throw food at each other.

And right in the middle of it is Geralt Rivia. He’s one of the only people there who’s seated calmly, although Jaskier can see that small, upwards twitch on the corner of his mouth. The only indication that the silver-haired captain finds the whole thing amusing. Jaskier’s heart aches in that moment.

Then suddenly, Geralt looks up from his conversation with Eskel to meet Jaskier’s eyes.

Shit, Jaskier curses himself. He averts his eyes and ducks his head instead, cursing himself further when he feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at being caught.

He forces himself to focus on his leather-bound notebook, jotting down a few lines for a new song he has in mind. All the while, he continues to fiddle with the bracelet.

~

On Geralt’s tenth birthday, Jaskier gifted his best friend a drawing of the two of them. Before discovering his love for writing, Jaskier was a pretty decent artist, so he carefully drew a mountain with the sun rising behind it, two figures — one with chestnut hair and one with dark grey — standing beside each other on a forked road before them.

“Why is it forked?” Geralt asks Jaskier with a curious tilt of his head.

Jaskier shrugs. “I thought it looked nice. Why draw one road when you can draw two, right? And besides, that way you can choose which path to take!”

Geralt frowns. “But what if you don’t want to go in the same direction as me?”

“Don’t be silly, I’d follow you anywhere! You’re my best friend!”

“Well, I’d follow you, too.”

The two young boys share grins, and they only get up when Geralt’s mum calls them for dinner.

~

It’s the middle of November now, and since Jaskier started posting his poetry on The Freedom Wall near the end of second year, he always arrives at the school earlier than usual to put up the post-it at the bulletin.

There’s nobody in sight, the hallways void of students and teachers alike. Luckily, the bulletin is only a few feet away from his locker, which is also near the boy’s toilet. So in case he hears anyone approaching, Jaskier can make a quick escape.

Checking that the coast is clear and he can’t hear any footsteps approaching, Jaskier swiftly takes out the yellow rectangle post-it from between the pages of his notebook. Using one of the coloured thumb tacks pinned to the bulletin, Jaskier goes on his tip toes to pin the note to the upper right corner. Satisfied, he straightens with a huff of breath and takes a moment to scan the other messages posted, eyes landing on other anonymous writings pinned in the bulletin.

“My parents are getting a divorce. I might move schools next term. I don’t want to go.”

“I came out to my family last night over dinner, and for the first time I saw my dad cry. He’s a lawyer, and I can’t even remember the last time we had a heart-to-heart. But he hugged me and told me he loved me.”

“Sure, this school has a zero tolerance for bullying. But what if it’s ourselves we’re bullying? Sometimes, I’m scared of my own thoughts.”

“FUCK HOMOPHOBIA. FUCK RACISM. FUCK ISLAMOPHOBIA. FREEDOM FOR ALL!!!”

“What if one day you wake up and you find that you’re the person you’ve always wanted to be? What would you do?”

“The cafeteria needs to revamp their menu. There’s only so much baked fucking potato I can consume in a goddamn week.”

“This country isn’t for me. As an immigrant, I don’t feel like I belong. But then I remember where I came from, where my family suffered for years of poverty and oppression. And that’s when the gratitude comes. How can I be so selfish when my parents sacrificed so much for my sisters, just so we can be safe and have a bright future?”

“Anyone got any guesses who Dandelion is?”

A bubble of surprised laughter erupts from Jaskier upon reading the last one. He purses his lips and reads it a second time, eyes attentively going over the spidery scrawl of the letters. He’s half tempted to take it down, but Jaskier knows he can’t. No student is allowed to remove or discard anything that’s posted at The Freedom Wall. Nobody except the teachers and caretakers, who clear out the massive bulletin drilled into the wall every week.

Some part of Jaskier twinges in sorrow every time he sees his writing, though anonymous, be discarded so carelessly like yesterday’s leftovers. Once it’s out there, it’s never really gone, though. His words are immortalised elsewhere. What he chooses to share is only a fragment, a sliver, of the deeper parts of Jaskier’s heart.

He only ever posts at the bulletin for one person, anyway.

~

Dear Heart,

The universe is a brilliant writer; It wrote your name in my stars Before any of us existed So when the time comes They’ll light up your path — And lead you straight to me.

Yours, Dandelion

~

Like everyone, Jaskier is walking briskly to his next class, which happens to be AP English Literature. He’s adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, mumbling to himself about purchasing a new one that weekend. He’s fixing the zipper of his bag when he rounds the next corner, only to collide hard with a solid body.

“Oomf!”

Jaskier hits the ground on his arse. His bag, halfway open, spills the contents between him and the person he bumped into.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” a gruff voice says above him, sounding just as shocked.

Jaskier stiffens, belated realising that the figure he collided with didn’t even move from the spot. Slowly, he raises his head to meet Geralt’s golden eyes.

Swallowing past the dryness he suddenly finds lodged in his throat, Jaskier quickly stammers, “I-it’s fine!” He clears his throat. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t see you. Was a bit occupied wrestling with my stupid bag.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt replies in that same gruff voice, although his tone is soft.

He looks away from Geralt’s eyes, unable to hold his piercing gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. It’s akin to looking directly at the sun, and Jaskier, who’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, fears that if he stares too long that Geralt will see something he doesn’t want to see. So instead, Jaskier focuses on gathering his books, notebooks, and pens scattered on the deserted hallway.

Wait. Deserted? Since when?

Ah, fuck. It doesn’t matter.

Jaskier is shoving his History book into his bag when he feels more than sees Geralt crouch in front of him. He wordlessly passes Jaskier some of his pens, which he accepts with a mumbled “thank you”. When he catches sight of Geralt clutching a brown, leather-bound notebook in his large hands, Jaskier feels his heart stop.

His eyes drift from the notebook to the rough-looking hands, and up to the chiseled features of Geralt’s handsome face. And he is. Handsome. Breathtakingly beautiful, with his sharp jawline and the high cheekbones. Full lips that are dry but look soft at the same time, an odd juxtaposition in Jaskier’s humble opinion.

Geralt is still looking at the notebook, Jaskier notes, thick fingers slowly stroking the spine as golden eyes study the initials embossed on the front cover.

“You’re finally using it,” Geralt comments, thumb lightly stroking the thin leather cord that keeps the notebook closed.

Jaskier gulps inaudibly. Give it back, give it back. Please.

“I’ve been using it for years,” he reveals quietly. Jaskier shrugs when Geralt looks up to meet his eyes. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him before he snorts softly and — thank god — finally hands it back to Jaskier. He more or less snatches it from the other man, careful not to let their fingers graze.

“It’s not like I always have my eyes on you,” Geralt eventually says.

Jaskier finally zips his bag closed, and they rise up from their crouched positions. Jaskier opens his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but stops himself when the words register to him.

He tilts his head at Geralt. “Does this mean you sometimes have your eyes on me?”

Geralt blinks, and he looks startled for a moment that Jaskier can’t help but chuckle. It’s so easy to push his buttons, Jaskier has almost forgotten how much fun he used to have getting a rise out of Geralt.

“That’s not— I don’t—”

“Relax, Geralt. I was only teasing.”

Geralt shuts his mouth, looking nonplussed.

“Hmm.”

Oh, he’s definitely missed that, Jaskier thinks with a pang. His earlier mirth recedes, amused smile fading from his face.

They stand in front of each other in awkward silence. Jaskier fixes the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he fixes his eyes on his black Converse shoes.

Geralt clears his throat.

“Thanks, er, for the help,” Jaskier states. He chances a glance up and fights down a flinch when he sees Geralt already looking at him.

“Sure,” Geralt acknowledges with a nod, his expression pinched.

Jaskier thinks he looks a cross between constipated and freaked out. Could be a bit of both, who knows?

“So. I’m gonna go. I have AP English.”

Geralt nods again.

“AP Biology for me.”

“Okay. Er. Bye.”

“… Bye.”

It’s with an awkward wave, and a more awkward smile, that Jaskier walks past Geralt to turn the corner and get to class. Which he’s already a minute late for, fuck.

If his heart is hammering against his ribcage, and his palms happen to be sweaty and his cheeks flushed pink, Jaskier convinces himself it’s because he hightailed it across the hallway in record time to avoid getting detention from Ms. Tissaia.

Yeah. That’s why. It’s because he ran.

(Read the rest on AO3)

[therectoress]

Till Human Voices Wake Us (And We Drown)’s timeline so far:

Tissaia:

Year 696, Crown Princess Skylark is born in the late hours of the night during the Winter Equinox to King Lestyn and Queen Amicia of the Kingdom of Acaidal aka “The Continent’s heart” aka "The Golden Kingdom” with a mark in the form of a lilac on the nape of her neck. This alerts everyone that she was blessed with a soulmate, which means that by holy and mortal law she can never enter an arranged marriage; this also confirms she is the prophecy child and is destined to destroy the world.

Year 708, Since infancy Skylark’s strange behaviour has caused rumours to circulate and because of this and her parent’s refusal to accept any and all offers of betrothals, Acaidal is attacked during the ball hosted for the Princess 12th birthday (”the age of consent back then,” according to Tissaia). When their army is defeated and the castle surrounded, the palace is set on fire with her family and the courtiers inside, effectively trapping them. After her parents and her grandmother say their (rushed) goodbyes to her, the Queen takes off her signature pendant and gives it to her daughter, instructing a soldier to try and take the Princess out through the tunnels below the castle. Once outside, the building collapses on itself, triggering her conduit moment and the complete destruction of her kingdom by their attackers’ hands and her own.

Year 709, Skylark is saved from unknown captors, from an unknown location by Rectoress Depraysie after months of physical/psychological torture. Upon reaching Aretuza she tries to kill herself and sometime during the week she spends in recovery (after the Rectoress saves her), she argues with the woman and is forced to endure her Enchantment prematurely in retaliation. Depraysie changes the colour of her hair (her most famous feature) and makes her indistinguishable from Princess Skylark’s remaining portraits, lastly erasing all evidence of what had happened to her during her time in captivity. She is, however, unable to get rid of the mark on the girl’s neck, much to her frustration. – The trauma produced by the fall of Acaidal, her imprisonment and her Enchantment would soon cause her to develop PTSD and worsen her depressive/anxious tendencies. Depraysie also suspected that a throat infection she had contracted during her stay in the dungeon would be to blame for instigating her genetic predisposition towards OCD into violent existence. – Afterwards, Rectoress Depraysie procures a body that is similar in build to her already favourite apprentice and “proves” by various methods to several monarchs that it really is her, successfully tricking people into believing that Princess Skylark is dead. After spreading some more rumours, she gives Nilfgaard’s Emperor, the late Queen Amicia’s brother, the corpse for safekeeping. Centuries later that same skeleton would be returned to its “homeland” when the first king of the newly restored and named Kingdom of Cintra was anointed. Occasionally, new monarchs are known to ask mages for confirmation that the bones are indeed Skylark's and it is always given.

Year 714, She meets fifteen-year-old Lytta Neyd aka “Coral” aka “The overbearing, nosy friend she absolutely just tolerates”. At first glance, the redhead tells her that her name is now meant to be “Tissaia” and she embraces it, going by it from that day forwards. With time she grows to love the medium like a sibling and trusts her with the truth and the many painful, distressing side effects of the bond (both things which Coral already knows due to her psychic gift).

Year 718, Tissaia meets fourteen-year-old Margarita Laux-Antille aka “Rita” aka “The bane of her existence”. At first, she considers Rita “needy” and “annoying” and thinks that she “weeps too much”, but she’s a girl recently orphaned, afraid and alone, so Tissaia takes pity on her and threatens a younger student into changing rooms with her so she can take care of the blonde, who insists on sleeping in the same bed with her when Rectoress Depraysie is particularly horrid. With time she grows to love the blonde like a sibling and trusts her with the truth and the many painful, distressing side effects of the bond.

Year 720, Stregobor asks for permission to court Tissaia, now a gorgeous twenty-four-year-old young woman, but is denied and warned off of it by Rectoress Depraysie. This second-handed rejection causes the man to turn on Tissaia and the sorcerer tries to punish her for his humilliation for centuries.

Year 721, Coral is allowed to depart for Temeria’s court after her Enchantment, leaving a distraught, resentful and confused Tissaia behind.

Year 723, Rita “steals” Feyre’s assigment after their Enchantment and departs for Kadwen’s court. Tissaia de Vries finally departs for Redania’s, determined to succeed and prove Rectoress Depraysie wrong.

Year 832, Tissaia commits her first premeditated murder. It is an act that will slowly change her magic in a brutal, unknown manner.

Year 810, Tissaia is sexually assaulted by the grandson of the first king she served, killing him is self-defence and “slaughtering” him in revenge. Margarita makes the scene seem like an accident, and Coral and her take her away to – hide her in – Skellige “for many, many months” so she can recover.

Year 846, Falka’s rebellion commences and what first was a “noble” war changes into a peasant one, further degenerating into a massive witchhunt in which Mirthe, an ancient city of mages, is burnt down.

Year 860, She founds the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers with the help of four other mages, amongst them future Rector of Ban Ard/Arch-master Stregobor and future Arch-master Artorius Vigo. Three centuries later, she’d still be the only woman in the Chapter.

Year 870, The prologue - In late October Tissaia has one of her worst episodes to date, instinctively making a mess of her office and later getting high on a concoction she stole from Rita, who in turn bought it from an elf, to try and negate her powers (which tend to be unpredictable and escape her control during those instances). Amidst the delirium and a high fever she is still able to subconsciously summon an incredibly aggressive thunderstorm to the isle of Thanedd.

Year 1188, After 477 years of being constantly “tormented” by their bond, Tissaia finds her soulmate in Yennefer of Vengerberg when the girl stumbles at her feet in Tor Lara. In her desperation to not be parted from her, she strikes a deal with the girl after she expresses her desire/duty to go back to her family. She subsequently wins their bet and when they return to Aretuza the strategy she used prompts the girl to have a breakdown where Tissaia has to stop her from dying after she slits her wrists. That same night she abducts the girl’s father and portals to an abandoned barn in Cintra where she taunts and proceeds to torture the farmer, ultimately killing him after his body gives out by having him eaten alive by wild boars to cover up her tracks, locking all exits and setting the place on fire when she’s certain he’s passed away.

Yennefer:

Year 1173, Yennefer of Vengerberg is born in the early hours of the morning during Beltane to a half-elf father and a human mother after over 18 hours of labour with a crooked spine and a mark in the form of an orchid next to the deformation in her back.

Year 1788, Her conduit moment is triggered by a teenage couple whose almost assault causes her to create a portal to the Tower of the Gull. Immediately enchanted by the stranger who finds her she almost follows her through another one but stops herself when she realises she’d be abandoning her family. She strikes a deal with the “lady”, where either she’ll prove that Yennefer is deeply unwanted in her home or she’ll fail at doing so; in the first scenario, she is to come back with her and in the latter “her chaos will be bound and she’ll never hear from her again,” which Yennefer simultaneously does and doesn’t believe. Hours later she is cruelly bought from her father for four marks by the witch (as her mother calls her), losing their bet. After being locked in a room, she breaks a mirror and in a desperate attempt for control tries to kill herself by slitting her wrists with a shard of glass – “four cuts for four marks” – but is immediately stopped by her “new master”.

[marvel-chubbybucky-hoe]

Ungrateful?

Hey there :) Just randomly found your blog and I would die for some Loki x Reader fluff/angst written for me. Like maybe Loki takes the Human!Reader with him to Asgard to live there. But the longer they live there, the more the Reader misses Midgard. You know, like the Reader tries really hard to feel home in Asgard, but just is quite homesick. So they are in a romantic relationship for a while now and Loki tries to make it better for the Reader. I hope I explained it understandably xD I actually tried writing this today, but kind of failed, maybe I´ll try in a few days again, but I would love to read your version, because I need this scenario! So: It would be so kind if you would write something for me ^^ ~Ash 

Relationship: Loki Laufeyson / Reader

Tags: angst, fluff, angst to fluff, feelings, self doubt, guilt, shapeshifting, Thor and Loki are your typical siblings, reader is harsh on herself, dating Loki, Loki is the sweetest, Loki being cute

Words: 3892

A/n: I honestly don’t know why this took me so long. I was out of wifi for a little and had to take care of my dog (he got vaccinated and felt a little down :( ) But here it is. I hope you like it. Loads of love 

Loki had met you after Thor convinced him that Midgardians were fun to be around when drunk and furthermore Thor was concerned for Loki. The god of mischief has never before been so quiet. Frigga had begged for Odin to release her son from prison, because she was worried for him. The Allfather agreed, although reluctantly, but Loki had kept to himself.

He was scared of returning to Midgard after he attacked the planet while under the influence of the mind stone. Thor comforted him and promised to stay by his side and even though he would never admit this, Loki felt reassured.

While on Midgard, Loki felt people stare at him, heard the whispers and saw the scared looks on people’s faces. He was embarrassed, but Thor’s booming voice distracted him. 

You were on of Jane’s interns and welcomed Loki with open arms, slightly drunk. After Jane slapped him, you stumbled over to him and hugged him “Don’t hit him, he looks so sad”, you yelled and pouted at him.

And ever since that day Loki’s infatuation with you started to grow and developed into love eventually. He became happier and healthier and finally asked you to join him on Asgard. You were ecstatic to join your love on his home planet.

And it was great. The Asgardians treated you kindly and you were in love with the architecture and culture. The best thing of course, was the vast amount of time you could spend with Loki. He let you in on his mind, his fears and his past, which led you to angrily yelling at Odin until Frigga gently pulled you away. You cried into her arms while she guided you back to Loki’s chamber.

Your prince engulfed you and Frigga in a hug and let you let all your emotions out. You looked up at him and put your had on his cheek “I will never let anyone hurt you ever again” Loki looked back down at you and had to hold back tears, putting his hand over yours.

After your outburst, Odin felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Seeing Loki being fully loved and the positive influence it has on his mental health made him realize his mistakes in raising and parenting his younger son.

Odin has since tried to slowly regain Loki’s trust and rebuild their relationship. Loki didn’t show it openly, but he told you how excited he is over finally making his father proud. 

And everything had been great, really, until you suddenly felt numb. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something was off. It took you a while to figure out, but when you were out with Sif and you swooned about Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic and were met with a face of confusion, that you realized you were homesick.

It made you feel so guilty. Loki brought you here out of love, he poured out his heart for you and what did you do? You were an ungrateful brat that wanted to return to earth .You felt so horrible that you couldn’t even look into Loki’s eyes.

Instead, you spend most of your time in the palace garden crying your eyes out. You missed your old apartment, and the smell of fresh baked cinnamon rolls from the bakery downstairs. You missed your little uncomfortable bed and your teddy, the view out of your window and your movie collection. 

When you returned to the palace and saw Loki again, you had tears pooling in your eyes again out of guilt. He would come towards you and gently presses his lips to your temple and smile at you “I’m so happy you’re here, my Queen”, he’d whisper like he did every evening. You sat down with him and his hand never left your thigh. 

You managed to stop your tears for eight more days, before you excused yourself from the table to run for your favourite bench to cry. That’s were you find yourself now, sobbing into your hands in your Asgardian robe. You hear footsteps behind you and tense, dreading the conversation that is surely going to ensue. 

“My queen?”, Loki asks, his voice quiet and scared. His tone makes you whimper. All you had been doing lately was making your beautiful boyfriend scared and sad. You are a horrible girlfriend. Instead of supporting him, you are bringing him down out of your own selfishness. 

Loki sits down next to you and gently takes your hands into his. “Please, tell me what has been bothering you? I cannot stand to see you this miserable”, he pleads with you. You take a shuddering breath and look up at him “I’m sorry, my prince, so, so sorry”, you begin to sob again, “I never meant for this to happen! Please forgive my selfishness”

A sigh comes from him and he puts an arm around your shoulders, “My love, you don’t need to apologize for your feelings, however I wish to help you. Please enlighten me what is darkening your beautiful mind?” You continue to cry into your hands “It’s just…”, you look at him, “I miss home and I’m so sorry. You give me everything and I can’t even appreciate you properly!” His embrace usually brings you comfort, but now it only serves to deepen your guilt.

You bury your face in your hands once more “ I’m so horrible, such a bad girlfriend. I’m so sorry!”  Loki is shocked by your words. He knew something was bothering you, he’d be a terrible boyfriend if he didn’t, but that you were feeling so low made his heart ache. 

Loki pulls you closer to him and snakes his arms around your waist “My queen, you should have told me. It was never my intention to make you sad like this. If you desire to return to earth, I will let you go, not that you need my permission” Your head shoots up “No! You’re what makes me happy. I could never be happy without you. This must be some phase, maybe it’s the weather. Yeah, that’s it! This will be over soon, my prince I promise. I should lay down.” You stand up and kiss Loki, before smiling at him, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine”

Loki sits on the bench dumbfounded, watching your retreating figure. He scoffed. After this encounter he will obviously worry about you. And what he is going to do might not be his proudest moment, but he will surely do everything in his power to find out how he can help you. 

That’s how he finds himself transformed as Fandral. You and him had quickly developed a friendship, surprisingly enough. Loki was sure he can get to the root of your problem in this form. He quickly struts towards your shared chamber and knocks politely.

„Lady Y/n? Are you in there?“, he hollers. After a few seconds, you answer „I am, come in Fandral“ Loki enters, sees you sitting on the bed and cocks his head towards the space next to you. “Yes, of course, sit please“, you mumble, a nervous habit of yours. Loki sits next to you and places a hand on your knee. You look at him and see his compassionate eyes and know that you can trust him. “I saw you running off on Loki earlier. Are you okay?“

You sigh. “I’m just so homesick. I miss being on earth and being surrounded by people who understand society the same way as me“, you glance at Fandral “no offence“ Loki smiles at you,“none taken, but maybe you should specify what you miss exactly?“ You rub your hands over your thighs slowly,“I miss my movies, my apartment, human cooking, the culture, you know?“

Loki sheepishly grins „I don’t, but I guess that’s the issue, huh?“ You shoot him a look „Fandral! I trust you with my problems and all you do is this?“, you exclaim, but can’t fend off a smile. He shrugs and smiles, while ruffling your hair, “That’s what I do, Lady Y/n“

After a while, Loki exits your chambers and rushes towards a quiet place to shift back to his original form as Loki. He was now aware of what had been bothering you so much and a loose plan is already forming in his head, but he would need Thor’s help. He knew more about Midgardians than Loki, so he would surely have an answer.

He walks towards the dining hall, hoping his family was still around and bumped into the God of Thunder on his way. “Brother, what leads you to running around like you’re fleeing from this realm’s fury?“, he chuckles and slings an arm over Loki’s smaller frame. “I need your help, brother. It concerns Lady Y/n’s well being.“, the younger prince discloses.

Thor halts to look at Loki, who is looking at him desperately. “Well, what is it, then?“ Loki tells the story to Thor, who looks to be in deep thought. After a moment, the older one grins, “I’ve got it. We should visit Midgard.. We can go to Lady Y/n’s old apartment and grab some of her valuables. Maybe it’ll make her feel better!“.

And that’s what they do. They meet up with Jane who gives Loki the key to your apartment. “Tell her that I love her, yes?“, she smiles, before Thor and her take off. Loki makes his way to your flat and pauses at the door. Hopefully, he’ll find enough to make you happy again. He puts the key in the hole and turns it to enter.

The first thing his eyes fall upon are some of your old coats. He reaches out to touch the fabric. It’s thick and sturdy and must surely keep one warm. He takes it off the rack and fold it into a bag he brought. Loki moves further into your home and walks into the kitchen. You mentioned you missed the Midgardian food, so he rummages through your cupboards until he finds a cooking book.

He opens it and some yellowish handwritten recipes fall out. They must have been from your ancestors. Loki reads over them quickly. There’s apple pie, a veggie lasagna, cheesecake among others. They must hold a special place in your heart, if you’re still keeping them. He puts the recipes back into the book and places it into the bag. He’ll have to buy some ingredients for the Asgardian chefs, so they can cook these recipes.

He continues to wander through your apartment and find himself in your living room. On the shelf are pictures that show you and different people. One shows you as a toddler, grinning toothily on a man’s lap, probably your father. Loki smiles at the picture. You were a cute child and he was happy your father seemed to love and care for you. He puts this and few other pictures in the bag.

His gaze falls on a stack of movies an cds. Right, he should get you some. You often talked about these so called ‘classics’, so  he browses through them and looks for titles that seem familiar. He ends up with Titanic, Groundhog Day and The Shining, because he vaguely remembers you talking about them. He randomly grabs some more – he can’t help but shake his head at some of the titles, like seriously what kind of name is Willy Wonka – and puts them in the bag.

On his way to your bathroom he also takes a fluffy warm blanket with him. Your bathroom is small and Loki can’t help, but laugh at the rubber duck that’s sitting in your sink. He picks it up and raises it to his face to inspect it. He squeezes it and immediately drops it after it makes a squeaking noise. He glares at the duck and taps it with his boot, before he reluctantly picks it up again and puts it in his bag.

The bathroom doesn’t hold anymore things Loki deems worthy, but a bottle of perfume which makes him remember your smell when you first met. A mixture of lemon, flowers and sweat that he hasn’t realized he missed so badly. Loki then sashays into your bedroom, the memory filling him with child like joy. Upon entering your chamber, he stops to an abrupt halt and holds his breath. The room has your name written all over it. He feels like he’s trespassing into a sacred temple. After he let his eyes roam he lets out the breath he has been holding and rolls his shoulders.

Your old bed catches his attention. It is made just like you do it to your shared bed on Asgard. He lays down on it and breathes in the barely noticeable scent of you and rubs over the bed sheets with his hands. Suddenly, tears are gathering in his eyes and before he can stop them, they are falling down his cheeks. He didn’t notice how much your sadness had been bringing him down.

You are the love of his life and the thought of you, so lifeless and sad makes his heart ache. He cannot lose you. Oh lord, does he hope his little adventure will pay off. He just wants you to be happy again. Loki breathes your scent in deeply, before he wipes away his tears and sits up determined to bring your joy back.

He is about to jump into action when his eyes meet the two button eyes of a brown teddy. It has open arms and a heart on his chest that reads 'press me’. Loki reaches for the bear and follows the instructions, “Hi, I’m Pongo and I already know we’ll be the best of friends”, the teddy says. Loki watches the stuffed toy suspiciously, but then sees you hugging the bear and talking to him and he lets out a giggle. You truly are adorable.

The bear lands in the bag and Loki searches for more of your things. He finds a photo album of you and Jane on your desk. He looks through the pages and stops at a picture of you kissing Jane with a bottle of Midgardian alcohol in your hand. Loki can’t help but playfully shake your head, he had rarely seen you so carelessly. The album also goes in the bag, along with some of your clothes he likes – especially the lingerie – a poster, your guitar and some technological things (“it’s a play station”, you later clarify). He also find some seeds that you’ll maybe have fun with planting and caring for.

He looks through your flat again to see if he missed something and smiles confidently when he doesn’t find anything. He disguises himself as a Midgardian to buy the ingredients necessary for your recipes, before he meets up with Thor and Jane.

“Did you find everything you need?”, she asks. “Yes, I think so. However, I thought I wouldn’t see you again so soon, Lady Jane” Thor laughs at his brother and pulls him to his side, “Jane will join us for a little. We thought Lady Y/n might enjoy to see her again”. Loki thinks about that and nods, “That’s true. Good thinking, brother. I cannot believe I get to see such a miracle with my own eyes” A smirk flashes on the younger god’s face. Thor gracefully ignores the insult and instead hollers for Heimdall to take them back.

The bifrost brings them back safely. “Thor, Loki, Lady Jane, welcome on Asgard”, Heimdall’s voice sounds deep and calm as usual. Thor nods at the gatekeeper and turns to Loki, “Jane and I will go find Lady Y/n. You may execute your wishes in regard of what you have planned for your dame” Loki nods, but cannot help but roll his eyes at his brother. Like he actually needed his permission. He does however pursue his plan.

The sun is already setting when you return to your chamber. You spent the day with Jane and Thor. You missed her greatly and you had a lot of catching up to do, but you had a blast with the couple. However, seeing how loved up they are and how they were always touching or staring into each others eyes made you realize how much you also missed Loki. You shut him out, because you thought you were homesick, but seeing Thor and Jane made you understand that your prince was actually what you missed when you continued to feel worse.

When you enter your bedroom, you expect to see Loki laying on your bed. Instead you see Pongo, your old teddy sitting on his pillow. You smile and hug the toy, when you notice a note on his back. It was sticking to the fur, but you managed to get it off just fine.

My dear Y/n,

I know you have been feeling rather poorly, so I planned this evening to hopefully make you feel better. You are an impeccable woman, my Queen, and whenever something concerns you, I have an insatiable desire to make you feel elated, as you deserve to be. I am the most fortunate man in all the nine realms to have you by my side. If you are willing to see me, find me at your favourite tree in the royal garden.

PS There are some clothes in the wardrobe you might appreciate.

In love,

Loki

You are smiling at the end of his letter and open the wardrobe where you see many of your old clothes, hung neatly next to your Asgardian ones. You change into some comfortable leggings and a comfortable baggy sweater and immediately rush to the magnificent weeping willow near the back of the garden, Pongo secure in your arms. The branches fall gracefully towards the ground and the nearby lake is shimmering in a golden glow. You reach out to move the leaves and step into the secluded area under the tree. A sight you never dreamed of seeing awaits you.

Loki sits on a fluffy blanket, definitely the one your grandma gifted you on Christmas some years ago, a basket is next to him and the air smells of delicious food, it’s familiar, but you can’t point your finger at it. Your boyfriend smiles at you lovingly and stands up to grab your free hand, “My Queen, you made it”

You look him in the eye to try and find an answer, “Loki, what is all this?” He guides you to sit on the blanket and blushes. “You’ve been feeling so low and I could not bear to see you like this, so I may have taken on Fandral’s form to find out how I could console you.” You raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs with a sheepish smile on his face, “and then Thor and I traveled to Midgard and Jane gave me a key to your old home and I tried to bring you some of your valuables that might make you happy again. You used to e so cheerful and I desire to give you a feeling of elation”

You stare at him blankly. “Y/n, are you alri-”, he starts, but you cut him off with a hug, “That’s so nice of you and a little creepy, for just going through my stuff, but I know you meant well”, you take his face between your face, “but we’ll talk about this later. Now, I just want you to kiss me, my prince”

With your eyes closed you lean in and press your lips to his gently. His cold lips move with yours in sync and his hands move to your hips to pull you closer. You keep the kiss sweet and Loki sighs into the kiss eventually. “I love you, my Queen”, he whispers against your lips. You smile and open your eyes to find him looking at you. Your forehead meets his and you grin, “I love you too, my prince”

After a minute or so, Loki pulls away and takes one of your hand in his larger one and presses a kiss on your wrist, before he turns to the basket, “I hope you’re hungry, my Queen” You try to look into the basket, but Loki’s body blocks your view. After a moment he lays down a veggie lasagna that look suspiciously like your grandfather’s. You gasp and smile brightly.

“You brought my cooking books?” Loki plates two pieces and smiles, “You mentioned you missed the cuisine, so I thought you might enjoy this” You hum and kiss his cheek, “You’re the best”

You silently enjoy the food and being in your boyfriend’s company. You’re still in awe of how much Loki has done to make you feel better. After you finished, Loki takes out your great aunts cheesecake. “So… desert?”, he asks and you gape at him. He puts the cake down and takes out some of your movies, “or do you want to head inside to view one of these?” You open and close your mouth a few times before you grab the basket and look into it.

You find your play station, your Titanic poster, some of your seeds, some family photos and your pressed wool coat. “I also brought your guitar and your perfume”, Loki adds to your discovery. Tears start to pool in your eyes and you throw yourself at him and bury your face into his neck. “Thank you so much, Loki. This means a lot to me”. He hugs you to him and rubs your back softly. “Anything for you, my Queen”

You showed Loki 'The Notebook’ that evening and you both cried a little, not that Loki would admit to it, and now you’re laying on his chest and draw circles into his chest hair. “You know, seeing Jane today and hearing her talk about life back on earth, I realized that I didn’t actually miss earth. I just missed an idealized version of earth.”, you tell your boyfriend. “How do you mean?”

“I guess I started to miss Jane and then I thought about our memories which I then compared to similar things on Asgard. And I guess I just preferred things how I learned them to be, when I actually prefer Asgard. Most people here are kinder and form a community and there’s significantly less hate among the people. I feel right at home here”, you state and look to Loki to gauge his reaction. He smiles.

“I’m happy you feel that way, my queen, but why didn’t you tell me?” You sigh. “When I realized I missed earth I felt so guilty, because you do so much for me and I felt like I was disappointing you. I now realize that my feelings are valid and that I can talk to you. I’m sorry” Loki gently swipes your hair out of your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry for your feelings and acting irrationally because of them. I’ve been there before”, he says which makes you giggle.

“But seriously, please always remember you can talk to me. You are the most important person in my life and I never want to lose you”, he whispers vulnerably. “I promise I’ll talk to you in the future”, you answer and pull him down to kiss you.

“I love you, my Queen”

“I love you too, my prince”

[jazminetoad]

In My Reality | Prologue

Hey, I was bored so I decided to start a fanfic series of the Tatsumi Brothers from Juuni Taisen. Yay

It’s a “Tatsumi Brother x Reader” story about how the Tatsumi Brothers enter the reader’s reality which kinda flips her world upside down.

So I just finished the prologue. If you guys like it or if I’m bored again, I’ll make the first chapter. (Click “Keep Reading” to read the story)

"[Name] get out of bed; It's 3 in the afternoon," my mom told me as she came into my room with fresh, clean clothes. I didn't have to look over to know.

Groaning, I removed my mask from my eyes then rolled over to face up at the white ceiling. The sunlight seeping in from the blinds caused my sight to cringe before it finally adjected to the light and I could see the grey walls lurking in the corner of my eyes. Arising from my queen-sized bed a yawn escaped from my mouth. My form reached over and placed my sleep mask on the nightstand, next to my water mug.

"Morning mom," I greeted her as she sorted out the pile of clothes on my dresser. Looks like she did a colour load, which means no pants to put away.

"Morning sweetheart. Can you put your clothes away before you come downstairs?"

"Sure," I simply answered as I slipped out of the cozy sheets I once was tangled in.

"Thank you. I'll see you when you come down," she stated, placing the last of my t-shirts neatly on the others. Afterwards, she wrapped her arms around the remaining clean, clothes that weren't mine, carefully balancing them as she left my room and closed the door behind.

The click of the doorknob echoed into my ears when my feet landed on the fuzzy rug. My eyes drifted their gaze to the plain black bodypillow wrapped in [f/c] blankets, reminding me of a burrito. It just had the colour for the case, no special Anime character on it. I wish there were one though; it'd make the nights seem less lonely to see my favourite character's face on it. However, a pillow is a pillow. Despite me using it as an illusion for myself it doesn't change the reality that when I hug it in my sleep or when I'm awake no arms will return my embrace.

A sigh falls out of my breath, my eyelids dropping in sync. I turned my head away from the lying pillow and dragged myself to the other side of my bed, towards the dresser that patiently held the clean clothes my mom put there. I opened a drawer, putting my undergarments away first then my socks. Once those were put away, I moved to retrieve hangers from my closet, passing by my desk and shelves as I did.

If you were wondering why I slept so late into the afternoon, well, it's currently winter break, so that means I can stay up late and sleep in late past noon. Sadly enough, it's January which means the break almost over, and that means school is standing around the corner, menacingly. Just the thought of it disturbs my mind as that reality tries to infect my thoughts.

I hate reality. I know not all of it is shit, but there's enough of it that makes me want to drown myself in the world of fiction. Whenever it's the weekend or breaks from school, I binge Anime, tv shows, YouTube, and movies, so that's the only thing on my mind. I then write or read fanfiction, there is the rare occasion I sketch something but I'm not good at art since I don't practice enough. By the time I return to reality after having my head stuck in my imagination for so long, I can barely focus without going back to daydreaming. Eventually, that wears off, and then reality is what floods my brain; I despise it but I know I can't be stuck in my fantasies forever. Luckily my friends provide that nice spot in-between for me, helping me stay in the real world but also let me discuss the fictional. Then there's also my bro.

"Yo sis," my brother's voice called from the other side of the door after his fist knocked on it. "You wanna continue Code Geass?"

My bro is the best. Unlike most siblings I know, we actually get along. He's also a big help in my life, one of the reasons why I haven't lost my mind. He makes sure I don't overwork & stress myself and reminds me to have fun and chillax. I love him for it, and he's practically my best friend. We aren't the exact same age but we were born in the same year, just a few months apart so we get to be in the same grade. He's the older one. He's also taller which means he can t-pose over me, and we reenact the meme; it's great.

"Yeah," I answered. "Just let me get ready."

"Alright," he replied before I felt the vibration of his footsteps grow distant from my room.

'Heh, if I had Takeyasu's ability, I'd be able to sense his movement better.'

I chuckle to myself at the thought floating in my mind as I put the final shirt away. My two favourite characters that I desired to be real was the Tatsumi Brothers, Nagayuki and Takeyasu. I love those two. Whenever I watched their episodes from Juuni Taisen, I always smile. They make my heart feel something that I never felt for any character before. I don't want to be cliche and say true love, but to me, that's what it feels like. I know they're fictional characters, so I won't get much out of it, but strangely enough, I'm okay with that. I can't imagine my heart belonging to anyone else. I do wish they were real, though. I even used my wish on the bracelet my friend, Meri-chan, got for my birthday one year, that they'd become real.

The bracelet was some urban legend. It was lime green and had a few beads on it. The legend goes that you make a wish and when the bracelet breaks, your wish has come true. 'Course, it's most likely a bunch of baloney but that didn't stop me from wishing that the Tatsumi Brothers would become real. I currently just wear the bracelet as an accessory since the wish probably won't happen, it's not like the thing is going to break anytime soon.

Grabbing my towel, my other hand opened my door. I slipped down the hallway and slid into the bathroom, my foot pushing the door closed as I put the towel on the towel rack. Hopefully, I don't take too long because we were left on edge on the last episode of Code Geass we watched. Well, I'll finish sooner than my wish coming true that's for sure, heh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay bro but if you think about it, Lelouch-"

"[Name], I washed your school uniforms. Can you put them away while I start on tacos?" Mom requested from the kitchen, interrupting the Anime, my commentary, and reminding me that school is coming soon. "You too, [b/n]."

"Yes, mom," we both respond.

My brother picked up the remote and hit the pause button so we wouldn't miss anything. I pulled myself up from the plush couch, disappointment growing on me since I had hoped not to be interrupted until dinner was ready. Well, I guess I could let the disappointment wither away since it's Taco Tuesday, my favourite. I chuckled to myself as my feet reached the next level above the main floor and headed down the open hallway to my room.

My laughter died out upon seeing my seven school uniforms, five that were the regular female uniform and two that were gym uniforms. Unlike most students, I didn't like the idea of having to wash my uniform every day, so to make things simpler, I paid for six more with my own money. It was a bit irritating, using the money I earned from my summer job for this instead of getting something else. Still, my practical choice, so I didn't necessarily have to worry about my mom washing my uniform every night.

"Hhhhhh, why does school have to come back so soon?" I asked myself as I picked up one of the uniforms.

The uniform wasn't too special, a simple white blouse, a blue skirt, a blue jacket, and a blue & black striped tie. Students could decide if we wanted to wear tights, leggings, or shorts underneath the skirt as long as it was black or white. I wore leggings unless it was summer which I then wear shorts and knee-high socks. There are those girls that only wear thigh-high socks and panties under their skirt to which my nerd brain questions why. 'Course that's their choice, have fun with your ass cold.

A Discord ringtone made me resurface from my pond of inner thoughts. Becoming aware of my surroundings, I realized my friends Meri-chan and Kamida were calling on the Discord group chat we had. I could tell by the laptop I had open on my desk. I quickly put the uniform I had in hand on the rack with the others before sliding over and clicking the answer button that popped up.

"Yo, what's up nerds."

"Hey I'm not a nerd," Meri-chan protested. "I'm a cool kid."

"Meri-chan, we're all nerds here," Kamida stated before greeting me. "Hey [n/n], how you doing?"

"Eh, good I suppose but I could be doing better, Kami," I answered simply. "How's life?"

"Pretty chill but I got bored, so I decided to call you guys."

"Well, I'm just putting my uniforms away," I informed them and went to put the last uniform away.

"I sometimes forget that you have more than one," Meri-chan commented before I heard her gasp. "Hey, how 'bout we hang out tomorrow, we only have so many days before we have to go back to school."

"Oh, don't remind me," I groaned, hanging my head, then went back to putting the uniform on the hanger and walking over to the closet, hanging it up with the rest.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea Meri-chan, we could hang out tomorrow," Kamida suggested.

"I'm down," Meri-chan quickly responded.

"Welllllll..." I hesitated, sitting down in the [f/c] spinning chair in front of the desk.

"[Name]."

"You see, I kinda want to stay inside my last few days..."

"[n/nnnnn]!" Meri-chan whined.

"Come on [Name], you know you can't stay cooped up inside forever," Kamida reminded me.

"I know," I grumbled, leaning back in my seat. "Fine, I'll come out tomorrow, but it's going to be after 2."

"2 am, geez [n/n] I didn't know you'd be willing to come out that early," Kamida joked.

"I meant 2 pm," I corrected.

"Okay," he chuckled as Meri-chan pipped in.

"But if you're late again, you're buying lunch this time."

"Okay, bet, but what if I'm not?" I inquired, my fingers tapping on my desk.

"Mmmmmmm," she hummed, seemingly to be thinking.

"It's fine I'll pay for lunch tomorrow."

"Alright, but don't use it as an excuse to be late."

"I won't," I reassured her. "Anyway, I'm gonna go watch a few more episodes of Code Geass with my bro-"

"You still need to watch Dragon Ball Z," Kamida interrupted.

"And you need to watch Juuni Taisen," I countered, emphasizing the "you".

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed it off. "Anyway, go have fun with your bro. We'll call again later on tonight."

"Alright, bye guys." I left the call and closed out of discord then proceeded to shut my laptop.

Kamida and Meri-chan were my two friends from school; we've known each other since childhood. 'Course Meri-chan isn't Meri-chan's real name, that's just a nickname Kamida and I gave her. Occasionally, they called me [n/n]-chan but not too often. Then there are times where we call Kamida, Kami-kun, but mainly Meri-chan does it out of spite since Kamida doesn't like it. Especially when Meri-chan does it in her kawaii voice. Those two are the only ones outside of family that have the same vibe I do, that's probably why we've been friends for so long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, you guys ever wish fictional characters could become real?" I randomly asked out of the blue, staring up at the white ceiling as I waited for my friends over the call to answer my question.

"All the time," Meri-chan answered.

"We know simp," Kamida smugly commented.

"Nuuu!" Meri-chan pouted while Kamida and I laughed. "Hey, if anything [n/n] is the simp over here, she's the one actual crushing on the characters."

"Hey don't call me out like that."

"Ha! She doesn't deny it," Kamida jeered.

"Okay, what about you and Android 21?"

"Ack-" Kamida blurted before muting himself, causing me and Meri-chan to giggle. A few seconds pass by before he unmuted himself. "Why are you asking this question [n/n]?"

"No reason in particular-"

"Are you sure it's not you wanting to talk about Juuni Taisen?"

"No- it's not just that. I just think fictional characters would make reality interesting."

"Right..."

"Meri-chan if you could bring someone from Juuni Taisen to-"

"My boy Uuma! You should know this by now."

"Bruh-"

"Well, it's either that or Usagi, and I rather be alive thank you."

"Who's Uuma again?" Kamida inquired, not knowing who was who quite yet since he hasn't watched the Anime.

"Uuma is the warrior of the horse," I informed him.

"Right," Kamida mumbled before letting out a yawn.

"You sound tired, go to sleep!" Meri-chan told Kamida.

"No, you go to sleep."

"Guys, we're all on the same timezone. If one of us goes to sleep then we all do," I stated. "It makes sense since we're all planning on meeting up tomorrow."

"I guess we go to sleep," Meri-chan said bluntly.

"Yeah, alright, goodnight guys," Kamida yawned.

"Night."

"Night guys."

With that, we each left the call. I, however, didn't fall asleep right away. I woke up late and the night was still pretty early, so I opened up the Funimation app on my phone. Scrolling through the list of saved Anime, most of which were halfway through since my brother and I are watching them together, I came across Juuni Taisen.

"Why not..." I muttered to myself as my finger tapped on the Anime and went right to click on episode 7, In Like a Dragon, Out Like a Snake (Part 1).

By the time I finished episodes 7 and 8, it was 2 am when my eyes glanced at the clock in the top corner of my phone. Sighing to myself, I leaned over and snatched my charger off the nightstand, plugging it in the wall before connecting the other end to my phone. Turning off my phone, I placed it on the nightstand and snagged my sleep mask, putting that on my head.

As I laid there on my bed, silence flooded the room, not a sound to be heard but my own breathing. Vines of sorrow began to grow on me as the feeling of loneliness came over me. I tried to pull myself out of the emotion, turning over and wrapping my arms around the plain bodypillow in an attempt to comfort myself. In the end, it only helped slightly. It didn't erase the pain because I knew there were no arms that would hug me back. A tear escaped my eyes before I pulled my mask over them, and a final thought appeared in my mind before I entered the dream realm.

'I wish I wasn't alone...'

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Congratulations, Tatsumi {Ani|Otouto}, warrior of the {dragon|snake}!" Duodecuple exclaimed. "You are the winner of the 12th Juuni Taisen, everyone give yourself a hand!" The man started to applaud but soon stopped. "The antidote has settled in by now. You'll be fine."

{"Tch|Alright"} the Tatsumi brother simply responded.

"Now that you've won the Juuni Taisen, you can make one wish of your choice. Would you like to make your wish now, or would you like for it to be granted later?"

"In all honesty, when I arrived at the Juuni Taisen I wished for {nothing|money}, I didn't need anything else really but now that {I'm here|I had time to think about} I don't want to wish for {nothing|money}."

"Oh, do you have another wish in mind?" Duodecuple inquired the Tatsumi brother sitting in front of him, alone.

"Yeah... I wish me and my brother were never apart of the Juuni Taisen."