#ff lion's head

[novaursa]

Hi Novaursa! I just saw that you're taking request. Your writing is beyond awesome and I'm wondering if I can make a request with Gwayne Hightower and Female Reader? The two decided to marry in secret when the reader's parents arrange her for another man? Bonus point if they get to have a short happy marriage before Gwayne leaves for King's Landing (and we know what awaits him there T-T)?

I might have mentioned it before but I love your writing! ^^

A Rose in Oldtown

- Summary: Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown.

- Paring: tyrell!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- A/N: I had something similar laying around on my hard drive. It was not for tyrell!reader, but I've used its bones for structure and it needed pretty little rewriting. This is why this is posted so soon. And yeah, I'm manic sometimes when it comes to writing. When I have an idea I can't sleep until it's done. Or do anything else basically. If I don't respond to your ask after a few days, then I'm probably starting from scratch. @justdillydally I hope you enjoy this as you did my other works. ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand at the front of the Sept, dressed in the finest gown Highgarden could offer—an emerald green masterpiece embroidered with golden roses, the petals dusted with delicate pearls that shimmer in the dim candlelight. The sleeves are long and sheer, allowing glimpses of your skin beneath, while the bodice is cinched tightly, enhancing every curve. The skirt flows like a river of green silk, the fabric whispering with every breath you take. A golden rose sits in your hair, nestled among the intricate braids that frame your face. It’s a gown fit for a queen, but today it feels more like a cage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of tradition pressing down on your chest. House Lannister’s colors dominate the sept, crimson banners emblazoned with golden lions hanging from every pillar. They seem to mock you, roaring silently, a reminder of the fate being forced upon you. Your father stands beside you, his expression unreadable, yet you can feel the iron grip of his expectations.

“Remember your duty,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

But duty is the last thing on your mind. Your heart is hammering, but not for the man who waits for you at the altar. Jason Lannister stands there with a smug smile, eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing prey. You should feel fear—discomfort, even—but all you feel is anger and longing. 

Your gaze drifts past him, searching the shadows of the crowded sept for a pair of familiar gray eyes. You know Gwayne is near, can sense him even if you can’t yet see him. He promised you. He promised he’d come.

The sept doors creak open, and a gust of wind rushes in, carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. For a heartbeat, the ceremony halts, heads turning toward the disturbance. There, at the threshold, stands Gwayne Hightower, clad in green leather riding armor, a stark contrast to the opulence around him. His hair is tousled from the wind, a few unruly strands falling into those piercing eyes that hold yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Are you truly going to allow this travesty to unfold?” His voice echoes through the sept, defiant and laced with a challenge. The guests murmur in shock, eyes wide as they shift between the Lannisters and Hightower.

“Gwayne,” you breathe, relief and something wilder, more reckless, surging in your chest.

Your father bristles, stepping forward as if to block the path between you and Gwayne. “You have no place here, Hightower! You disgrace your house with this insolence!”

But Gwayne’s gaze never wavers from you. There’s a promise in his eyes, a question. And deep down, you already know your answer.

“Disgrace?” Gwayne laughs, sharp and mocking. “The only disgrace is forcing a woman to marry a man she doesn’t love. Let her choose.” He extends a hand toward you, daring you to defy every expectation, every command that’s been drilled into you since birth.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world seems to narrow to this single moment—the choice between duty and desire, between a life of cold gold and a life of burning passion. The rose on your head suddenly feels heavy, a symbol of everything you stand to lose if you step toward him. But the thought of losing Gwayne is a pain sharper than any blade.

“Your duty is to your house,” your father snaps, gripping your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, as if he can keep you there by force.

“Is it?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “Or is my duty to myself?” With a sudden, fierce resolve, you tear your arm free, the embroidered fabric of your sleeve ripping in the process. The soft sound is like the tearing of bonds that have held you for too long.

The tension breaks like a thunderclap. You lift your skirts and run, the long train of your gown dragging behind you like the last vestiges of your old life. Gwayne doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a tight embrace as you reach him. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath the leather armor, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod, breathless. “I was ready the moment I saw you.”

With that, he pulls you toward the doors, toward freedom. The guests shout in outrage, your father’s curses mixing with the indignant roars of the Lannisters. But you don’t care. All you can think about is the wind in your hair and the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours as you both burst out into the sunlight.

Two horses stand waiting, saddled and ready. Without another word, Gwayne lifts you onto one, his touch gentle but urgent. He mounts his own horse in a single fluid motion and turns to you, his eyes blazing with determination. “We ride to Oldtown. There, we’ll be married by nightfall.”

Your heart swells at his words. There is no more doubt, no more hesitation. Only the thrill of running toward a future you chose for yourself. You share one last glance, and then together, you kick your horses into a gallop, racing away from the sept, from duty, from everything that sought to bind you.

The road ahead is rough, the path winding and treacherous, but with Gwayne at your side, it feels like the smoothest ride of your life. The wind whips your hair, tangling it with the remnants of your torn veil, but you laugh—a wild, unrestrained sound that echoes over the hills.

“This is madness,” you shout to him over the pounding hooves, but there’s pure joy in your voice.

“Madness is letting you go,” he replies, a grin splitting his face. He reaches over, his fingers brushing yours as you ride side by side. It’s a touch full of unspoken promises and a future yet to be written.

By the time you reach Oldtown, the sky is painted in hues of dusk, the Hightower looming over the horizon like a beacon guiding you both home. Gwayne helps you down from your horse, and you’re both breathless, flushed from the ride. He pauses, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” he whispers, fierce and possessive, but laced with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Good,” you reply, your voice steady and sure. “Because I won’t let you go either.”

Hand in hand, you enter the modest sept in the shadow of the Hightower. The ceremony is simple, witnessed only by a few loyal friends, but it is perfect. When Gwayne says his vows, his voice is low and rough, thick with emotion. And when you pledge yourself to him, it’s with a heart so full it feels like it might burst.

As the septon pronounces you husband and wife, Gwayne leans in to kiss you, a fierce, claiming kiss that seals your fates together. In that moment, you know that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter who might seek to tear you apart, you have already won the greatest victory: a life lived on your own terms, with the man you chose.

Life in Oldtown is a far cry from the rigid splendor of Highgarden or the bustling grandeur of King’s Landing. The Hightower looms majestically above the city, its walls steeped in history and tradition. You’ve come to love its winding corridors, the serene gardens tucked away behind ancient stone walls, and the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and lavender through the open windows. It’s become your home—a place where you and Gwayne have carved out a life filled with laughter, warmth, and stolen moments of happiness.

This morning is bright and pleasant, the sun spilling golden light across the gardens where you sit with Prince Daeron. The young Targaryen, with his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, is a delight—sharp-witted and full of curiosity, yet with the unmistakable earnestness of youth. He often seeks your company, and you’ve grown fond of the boy, finding comfort in his easy laughter and unguarded conversations. Today, the two of you are seated beneath a blossoming magnolia tree, playing a game of cyvasse, though it’s clear Daeron is far more interested in the tales you’ve been telling him about the Reach.

“And is it true,” Daeron asks, eyes alight with fascination, “that the fields near Highgarden stretch as far as the eye can see? Nothing but green and gold?”

You smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Aye, and in summer, the air is thick with the scent of roses. The orchards are heavy with fruit, and the rivers run clear and cool. It’s as close to paradise as one might find in Westeros.”

Daeron leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “You make it sound like a dream. Perhaps one day, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps,” you say, though there’s a touch of melancholy in your tone. “But Oldtown has its own beauty, Daeron. Have you grown fond of it?”

He nods, a thoughtful expression passing over his young face. “I have. But it’s different—quieter, more… ancient. The Hightower has secrets, I think, buried deep beneath its stones.”

Before you can reply, you notice Gwayne approaching from across the garden. He’s dressed in simple but well-made clothing, his sword strapped to his side as always. When he sees you with Daeron, a warm smile lights up his face, and your heart skips a beat as it always does when you see him. Even after all this time, the love between you remains as fierce and tender as it was the day he stole you away.

“Prince Daeron,” Gwayne greets the boy with a respectful nod, though his gaze lingers on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve been kind to my wife and haven’t defeated her too soundly at cyvasse.”

Daeron grins, shaking his head. “She’s a worthy opponent, Ser Gwayne. I’ve yet to best her.”

Gwayne chuckles, but then his tone softens as he turns to you. “My love, would you join me for a walk? There’s something I wish to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glance at Daeron, who waves you away with a knowing smile. “Go on, my lady. I’ll study my strategy for our next match.”

You rise, smoothing the folds of your gown as Gwayne offers you his arm. As the two of you walk through the garden, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence, the way his strength grounds you, even in the quietest of moments. You follow him deeper into the garden, past the flowering hedges and beneath the shadow of the towering walls, until you reach a secluded corner where a stone bench sits nestled between climbing roses.

“Here,” Gwayne says softly, guiding you to sit. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the air hums with the song of distant birds.

“What is it you wished to show me?” you ask, though your voice is gentle, already sensing that this moment is less about revealing something new and more about being together, away from the prying eyes of court and the endless duties that come with your position.

Gwayne’s smile is tender as he sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “Nothing but this—just us, here, away from everything. I’ve been wanting a moment alone with you all day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a familiar and intimate gesture that never fails to send warmth curling through your chest. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the scent of roses hanging in the air.

“You spend so much time caring for others—Daeron, the household, the people who come to us with their troubles. I sometimes wonder if you’ve time left for yourself,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “How could I want for anything when I have you? You’re all I need, Gwayne. You always have been.”

His eyes darken with affection, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “And you, my sweet rose, are more than I ever dreamed of. I often think of the day we ran away together—how reckless it was, how mad we must’ve seemed. And yet, here we are. You, the light in my life, and me, foolishly in love with you every day more than the last.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that makes your heart swell. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. For a long while, neither of you speaks, content simply to be in each other’s presence, surrounded by the peaceful solitude of the garden.

Eventually, Gwayne shifts, turning so he can cradle your face in his hands. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he’s memorizing every line, every freckle and feature. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a rawness in his voice, a depth of feeling that makes your breath catch.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And you are everything I never knew I needed.”

He leans in slowly, giving you time to close the distance, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises. The kiss deepens gradually, a slow, deliberate connection that speaks of love and trust and a desire that never quite fades. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so close it matches your own.

“This,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, “this is all I want. A life with you, here, in our little world, where no one can touch us.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness, the warmth of him against you. “And you have it, Gwayne.”

The room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a warm glow across the bed. The linens are tangled beneath you, a reminder of the night spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. Gwayne lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and feature. The air is thick with the scent of roses, mingled with the salt from the sea breeze wafting through the open window. 

His fingers trace idle patterns along your bare shoulder, lingering on the curve of your neck, then down to your chest before they rest on the gentle swell of your abdomen. You place your hand over his, and he looks at you with a mixture of longing and regret. It’s in his eyes, in the way his thumb absently strokes your skin as if he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.

“I wish I could stay,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep and emotion. “It kills me to think I won’t be here when our child is born.”

You close your eyes against the sting of tears, fighting the lump in your throat. “I wish you could stay too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I know you must go. Aegon’s summons cannot be ignored, and you have always been loyal to your family. I understand that.”

Gwayne leans down, brushing his lips softly against your temple before moving lower, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw. His lips linger at the curve of your belly, reverently pressing a kiss to the slight bump that holds your child—the child he might not meet for months, perhaps longer. The touch is tender, filled with all the love and unspoken vows he cannot put into words. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he murmurs, “I’ll be back before you know it, my love. I swear it.”

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “You can’t promise that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your attempt to stay strong. “King’s Landing is dangerous, especially now, with the realm so divided. What if—”

Gwayne lifts his head, cutting you off with a kiss—deep, slow, filled with a desperation that echoes the ache in your chest. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back the fear he won’t speak aloud.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he says firmly, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. This is my life—you are my life. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You nod, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it,” he whispers, cupping your face and wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Hold onto that hope. I’ll need it as much as you do while I’m away.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply hold each other, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the bittersweet reality of this impending separation. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to stay, to forsake the king’s orders and remain here, safe, with you.

But you know Gwayne, and you know his sense of duty runs as deep as his love. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his responsibilities, even for the sake of his own happiness. And so, you do not say the words that claw at the back of your throat. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—earthy and familiar, a comfort you’ll cling to in the lonely nights ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Gwayne gently disentangles himself from your embrace, rising from the bed and beginning to dress in silence. The rustle of fabric and the soft clink of his belt buckle are the only sounds in the room. You watch him as he fastens his sword to his side, his expression distant, already steeling himself for the journey ahead.

When he’s fully dressed, he turns back to you, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and kneels beside the bed, taking your hand in his. “I’ll write as soon as I reach King’s Landing. And every chance I get, I’ll send word to you. I want to know everything—how you’re feeling, how the babe is growing… Everything.”

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll write too. I’ll tell you of every little thing, so you don’t feel too far away from us.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in one last kiss—sweet and tender, a promise sealed between you. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a sigh that speaks of reluctance, of the struggle to let go.

“Take care of yourself and our little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting the days until I’m back in your arms.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is breaking at the thought of watching him walk out that door. “And we’ll be counting the days until we see you again. Ride swiftly, and come back to us.”

With one last lingering touch, he rises, and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, an emptiness settling over you like a heavy cloak. You press a hand to your belly, imagining the life growing within, and whisper softly, “Your father will come back to us. He must.”

But even as you say the words, a chill runs down your spine. All you can do now is wait, and hope that the gods are merciful enough to bring him back home—where he belongs, where all of your love and dreams are waiting for him.

The morning light spills across the bed, but it feels colder now, as if the warmth of his presence has been stripped away. You lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes and letting the memories of his touch, his voice, his promises fill the emptiness, holding onto them with every fiber of your being.

You whisper a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they listen, hoping they understand that your love is worth returning.

[marsfa1ry]

astrology observation 𓇼

(pics from pinterest)

capricorn mercury i love their dry sense of humor and dark sarcasm. my scorpio mercury be giggling like a baby when they tell a joke while everyone else blank stare the native, concerned about their dark humor. also their choice of words is so calculated and careful if developed, no sugarcoating tho, with well aspected could also be poetic. it’s so cute. ahhh my favs

lilith 3h knows how and when to push the button and let that intelligent communicator self take over lol literally can talk themselves out of anything and could wrap someone around their fingers by their words. school and/or siblings might be a hit or miss for them. it’s either good or bad, nothing in between.

mars 1h idk if it’s just me or not moving body when mentally in a better place for a whole day can cause natives a great emotion turmoil like (esp in virgo degree i guess💀) that’s why coping mechanism and serotonin booster includes deep cleaning room, groceries … oh maybe it’s just me ok

not to mention that healthy routine HELPS natives a lot i mean i guess it helps every human being but i feel like it emphasizes when it comes to mars 1h let me know if you resonates or not^^

earth moons with uranus prominent aspects/placements yes earth moons do need a stable routine to help them maintain their mind but with uranus influence esp if making aspects to mc, i think will most likely hate to have a 9-5 work, plus with prominence 9h/sagittarius, spontaneous career life is their go-to. their earth moons still want the stability tho so it could be that they have a stable morning and after work routine etc.

leo moon something about their hair that never fail to catch my attention. it’s like tho they did nothing their hair be thriving.

also something about head bumps because there was this one time i dreamed of a leo moon head bumping me just for me to wake up to an astrology observation (i can’t remember which one😿feel free to inform me so i can put credits here) says head bumping is a lion thing so leo placements tend to do that helpp- but tbh it’s so cute ><

earth moons w fire moons i rarely see astro community talk about this two together like it’s SO underrated. earth moon say the most straightforward, simplest compliments that get fire moon all flustered up and stuff like 😳 and firey do this most random, unprovoked things just to get reaction out of earthy. purely just vibing together. fire moon get earth moon out of their comfort zone, earth moon makes fire moon more grounded. seen them in many long terms relationships.

ex: EDIT : i just found out that brian groomed megan fox and actually so problematic so i deleted this example 🤢

ross lynch (aries moon) - jaz sinclair (capricorn moon)

aishwarya rai (capricorn moon) - abhishek bachchan (aries moon)

ryan gosling (capricorn moon) - eva mendes (leo moon)

moon conjucnt mercury synastry : moon be like ‘bruh you speak my mind’ while mercury ‘you read my emotions and know what to do with them without me talking it out so’ love this

moon conjunct chiron chiron making hard aspect to luminaries (emphasize on moon bcs istg…the pain towards deepest part of ourselves um) can manifest such a big impact in native’s life :,) and which part will be effected depends on houses where it sit in. however, as much as how diverse the conjunction can play out🤭 the same thing that wounded the natives could be the same thing that heal the natives. the key is to mastered the cruel (💀for real like who have this aspect would understand what i mean) chiron. as much as it makes you a severely wounded soldier in inner world’s field ffs, breaking the pattern of chiron can manifests a really great result.

moon prominent aspect in mother’s chart can be presented in your s/o’s chart or someone you like. for better or worse. 🧍‍♀️

mercury in sagittarius degree (9°,21°) philosiphize their words unintentionally and left people who had a conversation with them thinking about their words a lots esp when they give advice, they brought a whole new perspective to the person.

scorpio/8h prominent the struggle is real when someone they close with or trust don’t also hate their enemies. it’s a sign to retreat for them😠 ride or die. all or nothing.

lilith prominent/dominant men try so hard to hide their feelings and reactions when lilith prominent/dominant women come around. might even bully/pick on them at an extreme end. horrible at it finest when undeveloped ugh

taurus lilith square ascendant attract a lot of taurus mars and i have love-hate relationship with most of them

pisces rising really do get away with things. wittiness and chameleon energy of mutable + slyness of water = slay 💅

aries in big 6 literally always there in charts of ppl who heavily watch or fond of anime, manga

capricorn/cancer sun pair with scorpio/taurus sun no matter what others perceived them individually, they seems like a traditional couple to me lol when they’re together it gives ‘of course they’re together’ vibe. capricorn-scorpio and cancer-taurus more often than vice versa

pluto 3h i found myself thinking about what these natives say a looooot like even if it’s the most silliest stuff they said, it still echoes in my mind like ‘i think yellow is a really bizarre color’ and my mind goes 😮🤯😦😵‍💫🙀 wtff

; hihi, first i didn’t expect my previous astro notes to blow up this much so i want to say that i appreciated all the interactions and support <33 thank you so much and i hope whoever come across this astro ranting HEHE a really nice day/night and much fun reading this ⭐️

© @marsfa1ry

[b4tracha]

Brat (Lee Felix FF)

I am sorry for not being active like I said I would. I went through a really bad depression when I came home from university and it was a struggle to write. I am still recovering right now. I hope you all forgive me with this fic. I love you all <3

(You are an 01 liner, so you call Felix Hyung)

Sometimes it was hard being in a relationship with an idol who was constantly busy with schedules and having to keep up with an image their company created. It made you want to give up at one point, but your love for Felix always made him change his mind. Even if he couldn’t be open with dating you, especially since you were both men, it was ultimately worth it. 

What people didn’t know was that Felix was a dom. Felix enjoyed torturing you in ways he didn’t know was possible, yet he made it feel like heaven. When he wasn’t busy, he would come over and make up for all the time he missed with you. This time, he was allowed to bring you to the dorm for once. You don’t come over often due to his fear of others figuring out the relationship, but the members always keep everything secret. They were the most supportive group of people you have been around, and you always felt safe around the other members.

As much as you enjoyed spending time with Felix, laying around, and being lazy, you didn’t want that right now. You needed something else. To receive what you needed, you had to plan. Before you headed over, you worked yourself open and inserted a plug so you didn’t have to waste time prepping for too long. You were going to let him play his game, and then you were going to bother him until he fucked the brattiness out of you. You needed him to ruin your hole until it was the shape of his dick. 

But that also meant you had to wait. You decided to take a nap. Felix would get immersed in the game before you ripped the older right from it. It was going to be perfect. When you woke up, all you could hear was the rapid clicking of his keyboard. You opened your eyes, letting them fall on the older boy before you. He didn’t even know you were awake, his game loud in his headphones. The scenario almost felt like he was a lonely gazelle and you were a lion, ready to pounce. 

You slowly took off your clothes, leaving you in your boxers. You fell on the floor, crawling toward the unknowing male. You touched his thigh softly, causing Felix to jump in surprise. He relaxed once he realized that it was just you. He pulled off his headphones to speak. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing..” You hummed before pulling the male from his desk. You moved under the desk right between his legs and right in front of his crotch. 

“M/N.” A shiver ripped up your spine. You loved it when Felix did that. It was something about how Felix would lower his voice when he dominated you. The way he would say your name could make you come by itself. However, you wouldn’t let it deter you from your mission. You needed to finish it and get what you wanted.

“Yes, Hyung?” You started to rub on his clothed crotch. You slowly looked up at him with a slight smirk on your face. You and the blonde were having a staring contest, his eyes dark and heavy. You only see that when he was ready to leave you shaking on the bed. He was slowly hardening underneath your hand under the soft surface of his sweatpants. However, his blank stare gave the illusion he wasn’t affected by your teasing. The way he didn’t stop you gave you the green light to pull down his pants. Once you pulled them down, you realized that he was wearing nothing underneath. 

“Oh? Just for me?” You showed him your pearly whites. Felix simply grunted and folded his arms across his chest. You simply shrugged before shuffling closer to the man and taking hold of his half-hard cock. You licked your lips and finally took your eyes off of him. You spit on his cock before using the liquid to have a better grip. You slowly jerk him off, watching him harden within your hands. His tip was pink and wet, ready for any action. 

“Should I put it in my mouth? It’s been so long since I have blown you.” You licked his tip, feeling him twitch in your hands. He was slightly salty, yet he tasted so good. When you didn’t get a reaction from him once more, you decided to suck on the head. Then you finally felt a hand in your hair. You couldn’t help but smirk in your head about the situation. 

Suddenly, the hips of the man above you jerked up into your mouth. 

Felix held you down, a dark chuckle ringing around your ears. Finally, he gave you what you have wanted since you got here. You started to tear up and gag on his hard, thick cock. The drool from your mouth poured down, leaving Felix wet and sticky from the liquid. His sweatpants were stained from the amount of it. 

“Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to ruin you like a brat like you deserve?” His voice dropped, deep and heavy from the lust he was feeling. You couldn’t answer his question, but a soft moan slipped from your throat. “Answer me.”

“I-” You choked on him as soon as the words attempted to leave your throat. However, that was exactly what he wanted from you. He wanted to listen to you choke on your own words. He needed to get back for the teasing he had been dealing with since you woke up. 

“You don’t have much to say now, do you?” Felix growled. He pulled your head back up until you only had his head in your mouth until he forced you to deepthroat him once more. “Say something, brat. You wanted me to retaliate. You wanted this. Now take it like a good little brat.”

Felix stood up from his chair and adjusted both of you. He glared down into your misty eyes. If he kept this up, he was going to make you cry on his cock. That’s what you wanted. He gave you one more look before he began fucking your throat. The roughness of his thrusts causes you to shake and buck your hips. His grunts and the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat made your head spin. It felt like heaven and hell mixed in your head. If he kept this pace, you would faint.

Like he could hear your thoughts, he pulled you off of his cock. Your spit webbed and connected your lips and his dick. It eventually snapped as you doubled down on yourself, coughing heavily. You could barely breathe because of Felix. He must be more pent-up than you thought because he has never been this aggressive with you before. Although, you enjoyed it way too much to ask the older male to stop what he was doing. 

“Color?” The hard facade he put on fell for that moment. As much as he enjoyed ruining you, he didn’t want to hurt you. He was worried that he went too far with what he was doing with you. “Are you okay with what we’re doing right now?”

“Green.” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. It was so raspy and harsh from the treatment it just finished dealing with. “Keep going, hyung. I can take it.” You gave a small smile from where you were. That seemed to satisfy the blonde because his facade reappeared as soon as he heard you were okay.

“Are you done? Get up. You didn’t even make me cum yet.” He grabbed you by your hair. You were back right in front of his crotch. He was wet, hard, and twitching. His pre-cum was leaking from his pink tip. If you didn’t drool so much before, you would drool right now at the sight in front of you. You took your hands, wrapping them around Felix once more. 

“I’m sorry..” You pouted up at him. You weren’t sorry and he knew that too. However, you wanted to play up the innocent look for him.

“No, you’re not. Now do as I said before I leave you here like you deserve.” He took your jaw and squeezed it as a warning. You could only barely nod before opening your mouth. The gig was up for you, you needed to make him cum. The game was over. 

(I wrote too much. 50 likes for part 2?)

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Never Hijacked!Peeta Fics Masterlist (8)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

Created: April 25th, 2024

Checked:---

After the Quell-SkyLark89 (ff)  Summary: Katniss and Peeta are both rescued by the rebels at the end of the Quarter Quell, resulting in various changes in their story. Begins with alternate "Catching Fire" ending. But He Sees Her Now-oh_wellau (ao3) Summary: Small drabble of how it would have gone had Peeta not been hijacked after he's rescued. Carefully Forgotten-TheSpectrumSings (ao3) Summary: "I should have known something like this would happen. They know that physical torture wouldn't be enough to break either of us, not anymore. We are too used to it. But this? I never imagined this. Not because I underestimated the Capitol's cruelty, but simply because it was unthinkable. He had loved me so long, I had almost taken it for granted. That his love would always be there, no matter what torture either of us was put through.---Peeta isn't Hijacked in the Capitol. Instead he is forced to forget Katniss, and Katniss has to deal with the idea that The Boy With The Bread that she once knew so well, has no idea who she is. Keep Fighting-omgg8764 (ff)  Summary: When Peeta's is rescued, he arrives back at 13 free of Jacker venom, and still in love with Katniss. They are then selected for an elite team designed to destroy Snow, but so is Gale. Katniss only loves Peeta, but Gale won't give up. One and Only-PeetaMellarksGirl (ff) Summary: Post mockingjay No hijacking-A take on how post mockingjay would’ve went if Peeta had never been hijacked.  Quiet Plans That Change In the Night-The Fly and the Lion (ff)  Summary: Katniss is in love with Peeta - losing him has made it clear. When he miraculously reappears at rebel HQ, the couple is forced to weigh their relationship against everything the war represents, knowing things might not turn out they way they dream. The Boy with the Bread-WinterRose02 (ff)  Summary: "Miss Everdeen, it's the things we love the most... that destroy us." President Snow wanted to be true to his word, that's what he always strives at doing; being right. But when his plan to hijack Peeta proves futile he's starting to rethink his choice of words. This is what I believe to happen if Peeta was never hijacked. The Ending We Never Got-livestockjudge (ff) Summary:What if Peeta was never hijacked? What if he was just plain and simply tortured by President Snow. We all know the happy reunion we were expecting, but never got. 

The Sharp Edge of Memory (Persuasion)-titania522 (ao3)

Summary: "Even if by some miracle I did survive and he did not - if I did not follow him to the grave from desperation soon after - I would live my entire life trying to solve the puzzle of how to get him out." What would have happened on the beach during the Quarter Quell if Finnick had not interrupted them?

whisper in the dark-towersofsilver (ao3) Summary: Freedom was an abstract concept in District 12. You couldn’t preach freedom if you died of hunger, if you were too exhausted to do more then head down into the mines every day, but Peeta deserved this freedom. After all he’d been through for her, she would make sure of it. - or five times that peeta and katniss call one another by an endearment and the one time they talk about it, a canon divergent au in which peeta isn't hijacked spanning until post mockingjay for our everlark babies

[unluckyservice4]

Out of curiosity, what are the other remnants of despair like in your universe?

Oh, uh. Hmm...good question. I don't....really socialize with most of them these days for reasons, but uh...

Sonia's in Novaselic committing global domination and colonialism. She's one of the Big Three. The remnants who hoard power over the entire globe, minus Junko herself. Gundam's usually with her, or at least aligned with her. Last I heard he was in the Americas stampeding and ruining their cities. They don't really need the help tbh after the cults took over.

Imposter's in the states too, they're considered one of the other Big Three, they're impersonating some important governmental figure, though I'm not sure who. They're a big reason why the cults got out of hand and run a huge faction in that area, at least that's what I last heard. I dunno the state of that location so they might've moved on.

Fuyuhiko's got most of southeast asia, pretty much this whole place is his Territory, though Towa's a provence under it's own power. That's part of the deal Towa made with the Remnants after all. He also doesn't have much control over where sections like the Future Foundation and other such corperations have settled. FF's got it's tendrils riddling all throughout everyone's territories, so far they've set up a kind of hit and run strategy of coming to a place, outfitting people with supplies and weapons and then dipping, when they aren't trying to go into all out mini wars with one of us. They've mostly been Fuyuhiko's headache since the lions share of their force is in Japan, though Sonia and Imposter have to deal with their own headaches, especially Imposter. The next Hope's Peak building was meant to be in the states but now that means Munataka's got connections over there. I hear there's an underground rebellion in New York or something.

Next is the smaller forces, most of us are still in Japan physically but the influence can still reach global. Mahiru's got a radio station, it's surprisingly practical past the propaganda, gives you updates on what we're doing or any public plans and about famous killers-there's like a top ten serial killer hitlist it's...uh. Graphic. Ibuki and Hyoko are doing their concerts, which end in death or brainwashing or spreading more propaganda. Oh, Peko's still with Fuyuhiko, though I hear she might branch out now and again. She's a trained hitman so personally I am......not eager to look too deeply into her exploits.

Akane is........I honestly don't know where she is. She spent some time with Nekomaru's training area-he runs a training area, but it's extremely dangerous and unhealthy. Steroids, extremely dangerous diets and workout routines, he's got a whole subset of cult members who're like, super beefed up and probably ready to burst a blood vessal at any moment. It's.......It's honestly horrifying. Anyway, Akane spent a while with him and then she came out extremely weak and malnourished and yet somehow still a terrifying powerhouse. She wanders around leveling buildings for fun, I think. I think it's for fun. It's...um....it's like getting hit with a natural disaster honestly.

And Teru-ah....Teruteru's in the party business. And by party I mean sex party. And by sex party I mean you get a full course meal that makes you high and then you end up either dying in very horrificly gruesome ways or you end up going crazy and tear each other apart. um. Sometimes in even more disturbing ways than I just described. Don't go to his parties.

OH I almost forgot Souda. Probably because he doesn't actually do much himself, but he's got his machines set up everywhere and if you try to tamper with any of them you're probably going to set off a trap. That's all he does though, his machines are awful, the entire reason the sky's scorched is because of him, but beyond his machines he's actually harmless. All he wants is to bury his head in a project, it's kinda...kinda sad.

I think that's everyone....?

[madraleen]

Delicious in Dungeon - Ryōko Kui Vol.12-14: A commentary wherein the word "sweet" is said one too many times.

-"marcille, mushrooms don't have flowers!!" ahaha laios <3

-oooh, the demons share memories, that's why lion knows mithrun, okay

-nice, nice, i like how laios is reacting to marcille, "forcing the whole world to eat a menu you designed"

-marcille in her villainess outfit

-i can't be mad at marcille for hurting mithrun 'cause in her view he did the same to her, but like... be careful, guys, okay? let's not go too far.

-marcille blew mithrun's head off?? ffs, where are our healers. but she's effectively killed someone, still.

-no she's killing ALL of the canaries, omg, marcille

-hello, flamela, th... that's a lot of canaries, wow

-IS ANYONE HEALING AROUND HERE!

-"if the red dragon hadn't eaten falin back then, we would never have had such a great adventure!" that is so true and so sad

-CAPTAIN MITHRUN IS BAAACK

-NO GUYS! WE JUST SAID THE DEMON CAN'T BE DEFEATED WITH WEAPONS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DON'T BELIEVE THAT, THAT'S NOT LAIOS KILLING THE LION!

-clever girl, izutsumi. clever girl.

-IS FLAMELA KICKING MITHRUN TO STOP HIM FROM BITCH-SLAPPING KABRU EVEN MORE? ahahaha. although, i mean, in an inappropriate mithrun-way, him bitch-slapping kabru shows he actually pays attention to kabru...? because otherwise he wouldn't bother. he hasn't been bothered to personally interact with anyone in particular during the battle, aside from giving orders.

-this image of infinitely spawning laioses might just be kabru's nightmare, i think. too bad he's not seeing it

-THISTLEEE, lil bb is back. on yaad's back.

-the only person in this entire story that knows how to treat mithrun is kabru. the one person.

-awww, mithrun grabbed kabru's hand, got up and said "okay" to eating, resting and searching for a new desire, bless. aww, the canaries are happy about it, bless them too.

-bb mithrun is crying :( and of course it's kabru that sees it <3

-oh bless senshi and his vegetable scraps assist. and mithrun's smiling now :) oh no he's actually laughing. SHUT UP, HE'S CRYING-LAUGHING, "that's... good to hear," I LOVE HIM

-laios said "feel free to keep eating" and mithrun took it to heart, bless. eat your faligon, bb, attaboy

-'scuse you. did thistle just die? NOOo! well, he got his happy ending i guess. his wish to see delgan. and “delgan” took his burden off of him and thanked him, allowing to go peacefully. I GUESS! it makes sense, but ARGH, THISTLE, MY LIL BB ELF WHYYY :'( why did he have to be the one casualty :'( i know, i know. the lion had taken too much out of him, he'd twisted himself too much into who he had to become to protect the kingdom, he was spent and so on. still. THISTLE! :"( a sweet send-off though. with a little smile. peaceful.

-aww, it's sweet how laios leaves kensuke and his armor in a dungeon

-OH YAY, a year later yaad and his people are alive and all!

-aah, everyone meeting chil's daughters!!

-okay, so defeating the lion demon defeated all demons of all dungeons, right? and now there's only natural dungeons?

-a sweet ending for sure. it wraps things up nicely, with no significant loose ties to speak of.

-i like that people weren't left unscathed and came out changed, either emotionally like mithrun, kabru or marcille, or physically like falin, or both like laios. i would have liked to see marcille's reaction at thistle dying, considering she'd said she wanted to thank him for saving her life. i’d also have liked to see a reaction from marcille at having killed the canaries that one time.

-the fun part is going along on an adventure with a diverse cast in a cool world. that adventure vibe comes off so deliciously (hehe).

-the addictive part for me is mithrun and kabru, mostly when they're together. a kabumisu shipper, obv.

-now that all's said and done i can safely say, my faves are mithrun, thistle and kabru. i also have a soft spot for pattadol; she's sweet, she tries. i have soft spots for the canaries in general, they're fascinating.

[stray-kaz]

There Goes My Life : a Jesper Fahey x f!reader FF Assortment : Four

A/N: I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for that smile (above).

Summary: Jesper’s missing piece is found in the form of an unexpected joy.

You followed Kaz into the room, one ear tuned to the sounds around you and the other tuned to Jesper, excitedly rambling.

“Sorcha, yes? Yeah? Love, do you like it? It’s pretty, right?”

You finally turned to face him, towering over you. You reached up and pressed a finger to his lips, the palm of your other hand cupping his cheek.

“Yes, Jesper, it’s beautiful. I did tell you that you could name her. I don’t go back on promises, okay?” you told him, smiling slightly.

He nodded, glanced over your head at Kaz, who was half observing you both with narrowed eyes. He stepped nearer to you and hooked an arm around your shoulders.

“Okay” he murmured.

“What are you guys talking about?” Wylan, the newest member, asked as he wandered in behind you.

“Nothing” Jesper said, tone clipped.

Wylan recoiled a little and glanced at you, concerned. You shook your head at him.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Wylan” you assured him. “A private matter.”

You shrugged out of your jacket to replace it with the ruby cloak Nina was holding out to you, a feathered cap in her other hand. Her eyes flicked to Wylan’s as his widened, and then down to your belly, pushing out against the tense fabric of your shirt. Already, your laced up bodice was straining more than usual.

Wylan crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Jesper narrowly.

“A private matter” he repeated dryly. “A private baby?”

You dropped the cloak on the floor and Jesper whirled around, eyes wide.

“How did you know?” he demanded, a potent mix of furious and panicked.

Wylan pointed at your stomach and gestured vaguely to your chest while Nina bit back a grin.

“Points for subtlety” she murmured, turning away.

“You’re showing a bit already” Wylan told you. “And no offense, but you’re not usually so well endowed.”

You felt your entire face as if it was on fire as Jesper glanced down at your chest, curious, Kaz flushed and looked away, and Nina could no longer hide her giggles. Jesper cocked his head to one side and reached out slowly to reel you in, hands stroking your waist.

“I guess they are a bit bigger” he mumbled, grinning cheekily at you.

You shoved your burning face into his chest and swatted his arm, muffled, unintelligible words getting lost in his waistcoat. Nina bent to retrieve the red clock from the floor and wedged it into the small gap between yours and Jesper’s bodies.

“Get dressed” she ordered, smiling at you. “You’re not showing too much, waffles. Don’t worry. Besides, lover boy here will shoot anyone who so much as looks at you funny.”

You glanced up at Jesper and he nodded, a little too eagerly. 

“I have eyes on everyone” he said, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the cloak around your shoulders, tying it at your throat and taking the cap from Nina, too. The feather was shiny and glinted in the lowlight of the room.

When you and Jesper were ready, you each took a stoppered vial from Wylan and held it carefully as you headed for the door. Operation plague was underway.

Hours later, you stood with Jesper and Nina in the middle of Dime Lions territory, rolling an empty glass between your palms and watching with horror as Pekka Rollins did his best to beat Kaz to a bloody pulp. Jesper watched with eyes half hidden beneath the wide brim of his ruby hat, his lips turned down from concern. Nina wasn’t looking anymore, but you felt as if it were dishonest of you not to see. 

You knew somehow that the pain being inflicted on Kaz would be nothing compared to what he would unleash on Pekka once he could get a breath in.

You were right. You listened in growing horror to Kaz detail precisely what he had done to Pekka’s son, right down to the small toy lion. You sensed Nina’s discomfit and felt Jesper stiffen behind you, one of his hands slipping underneath the cloak you wore and settling gently on your belly. You grasped it and held tight, your fingernails leaving faint pale dents on his palm.

You tipped your head up a little, just enough to be able to see his face under the wide hat. He was already looking back at you, as if waiting for you to notice him.

“Kaz wouldn’t, would he?” you asked softly, afraid.

Jesper just gazed at you, one eyebrow raised slightly.

“It’s hard sometimes to know what Kaz’s line is” he murmured. “He crosses so many boundaries.”

You nodded silently and leaned into him. Suddenly, it was over, Kaz was free and limping over to you, newly signed papers clutched in one fist. He instantly saw your eyes, the way you were looking at him, and your fierce grip on Jesper’s hand over your belly. He raised his gaze to yours, and you thought you glimpsed a flash of shame before it was swallowed by hollow blue depths once more.

“I will never hurt your child” Kaz told you, his words clipped but softened at the edges. “You have my word, both of you.”

With your eyes focused on Kaz, you reached out your hand to him. He didn’t even flinch as he took it, shaking firmly.

“The deal is the deal” you said quietly.

Kaz nodded, eyes flicking to Jesper’s over your head.

“The deal is the deal.”

Tagging: @writingmysanity​ @thegeeksideofsr​

[southernreaches]

Ritual headwear in the form of a divine beast's head, used to perform the lion dance. Worn by the very finest of the sculpted keepers. Alas, it no longer responds to the old woman's earnest prayer. Divine invocation heightens intensity of the storm alongside strength and dexterity, but reduces the restorative effect of drinking from a flask of sacred tears. Focus is also troubled by wearing this headwear.

I JUST FOUND OUT CREATURES ENTIRE HEAD DEBUFFS ME? i finished the dlc with debuff head . ffs

[ladylynse]

Chapter 13 [FF | AO3] of Revision: Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized.

Beginning | Previous

-|-

“Jazz knows the truth of the situation better than I do,” Maddie whispered as she trudged down the track worn into the gravel road by the country traffic. Speaking the words aloud didn’t give her any more comfort than saying them in her head had, but they felt more real once she could hear herself saying them. They were harder to ignore.

She’d been ignoring too much for too long.

Jazz, on the other hand, was knowledgeable and resourceful. She knew what she was dealing with when it came to Vlad. She could handle herself. She would hardly have walked into the lion’s den unprepared. Maddie might not know what Jazz had up her sleeve, but Vlad wouldn’t have as easy a time dealing with her as he had with Maddie.

Still, if Jazz and Danny hadn’t been mistaken or misled, then Vlad—

Had Maddie ever really known him, even back when they were going to college, if he were capable of this?

Had he changed in the twenty years they hadn’t seen each other or had he fooled her as easily then as he had now?

She’d have to explain this to Jack.

How was she going to start explaining this to Jack?

Assuring him that their family was okay—or at least mostly okay, physically okay—would be the start, and then she’d have to explain that they were wrong about ghosts. All ghosts, likely as not, though she’d rather operate on the assumption that they’d been wrong for now. It wasn’t the right time to ask Danny if there were even a subset of ghosts that matched what they’d believed; he would not only not appreciate the question, but she’d also lose whatever meagre steps of progress she’d made towards reconciling with him in the first place, and Danielle—

Maddie didn’t think she’d ever be forgiven for what she’d done. Not by Danny, and certainly not by Danielle. But if she tried, if they found a way to move forward, then maybe….

No use thinking about that now.

Jack might not have made her mistake, but he’d be painted with the same brush because she doubted he’d have done anything differently. So, she’d have to tell him about ghosts, about Danny and Danielle, and then she’d have to tell him about Vlad and see the moment he realized their entire friendship was a lie.

Vlad still had the sample of ectoplasm—blood—Maddie had taken from Danielle, but she didn’t think Jack would need to see it to believe her words. Quick though he often was to think someone might be overshadowed, it would be easy enough to prove that Maddie wasn’t, but she didn’t think…. She didn’t think he’d need even that much.

Something being seemingly impossible had never stopped Jack before. That was one of the many things she loved about him.

Still, the lab sample— She’d told Danny about it, but would he remember after everything that had happened? What if that was how Vlad had found Danielle rather than the tracker he’d somehow slipped onto Maddie herself? The idea made Maddie feel sick. Jazz had warned her, she hadn’t listened, and she’d made things worse. Again. Maddie couldn’t think about that right now, though. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how Vlad had found them; he’d found them, he might be able to find them again, and they’d have to prepare for that. Somehow.

Still, if Vlad were tracking Danielle directly rather than scouting out the area now that he knew Danny was nearby….

She didn’t have any weapons with her, and there was only so much she could do with what she had here. Against a ghost like Plasmius, that wouldn’t amount to much. Given Vlad’s humanity, it might not amount to anything.

She wanted to know where that line was, if there was a line at all, between those like Danny and those like Cujo. She would never find a definitive line without experimentation she was no longer comfortable carrying out, but she could get a much better idea if she could ask questions and get honest answers. But she didn’t…. She had no idea how long it would be until she could ask those sorts of questions and not be faced with suspicion that she had an ulterior motive. Was there an appropriate time? Who could she even ask about that? Certainly not Jack; he’d have less of an idea than she did.

She was drifting again.

Vlad had always liked games of strategy, and he’d always had a tendency to turn things into games, into competitions, even when no one else realized he considered them to be players.

He would see this as a game, but given how he’d been playing her, he had her marked as a pawn, not an opponent. Would he consider Jazz an opponent or a distraction? Did he see Danny and Danielle as separate players or did he treat them as a united front? Surely she’d never told him enough about Alicia for him to know how to peg her. Vlad had always been happy for Maddie to talk, but he’d never gone out of his way to ask her about her childhood or where she’d grown up, and his knowing of Alicia was quite different than his knowing Alicia.

Still, she couldn’t count on his ignorance if he had access to information, and the technology she’d found was proof enough that he had access to information.

Was he reluctant to act until he had more information or was he biding his time for a different reason?

Jazz would surely be doing something to slow him down. She hadn’t been overly subtle about her suspicions, and she was the sort to assume the worst and plan accordingly—and act accordingly, thankfully.

Would knowing Vlad’s tricks be enough when he knew to be aware of hers, though?

“Mom?”

Maddie jumped and reached for weapons that weren’t there. She wasn’t even half a mile down the gravel road, and she hadn’t expected company, least of all Phantom—Danny—appearing beside her in the manner that ghosts typically do: without warning.

Maddie saw something in Danny’s expression tighten even as she dropped her hands and turned to face him properly. “Sorry,” she murmured.

He shrugged as he dropped the last few inches so his boots hit the gravel with a crunch. In a tone far too casual, he said, “It’s fine. I didn’t really expect anything else.”

Old habits are hard to break, sweetie, but I’m trying, she wanted to say, but what good would that do? She’d already told him that she wanted things to be different going forward, but Alicia was right. She hadn’t shown him that she meant it, not really.

She held out one of Vlad’s beetle inventions she’d taken for further study, and Danny’s lips twisted into something she might generously call a smile. “Oh. So you went in after all. And found your proof.”

“I was coming to help. I— I thought trying to help would be worth it, even if I might not be able to do anything. I—” How was she supposed to put this? “I was going to keep my distance from Danielle. Is she…all right?”

“She took a few hits before I got there.” Danny’s expression was grim. “Normally she’d be fine—heck, normally she’d have been able to defend herself—but she wasn’t great to start with. She sent Cujo to get me because she didn’t trust herself to go through one of his portals without help.”

Maddie winced, since that told her Danielle wasn’t nearly as all right as she’d hoped. Having observed Phantom’s healing factor practically since his appearance in Amity Park, she’d thought Danielle—presumably having something similar—would be in considerably better shape.

Maybe Jack had coated the scalpels with another anti-ectoplasm prototype and forgotten to tell her? Or tweaked the formula they used to keep ghosts from phasing? It wouldn’t be the first time, but….

But this time mattered more than it ever had before.

(Should it, though? Should what she’d done to this ghost matter more than what she’d done to any other? Danielle was as much girl as ghost, and that made all the difference to Maddie, but would Danny agree? Wouldn’t he just say it shouldn’t matter if she’s girl or ghost or both or something in between because she still deserves to be treated with decency regardless? That all ghosts should, just as all humans should?)

“We held up Cujo too long?” she guessed, reaching for a distraction from her thoughts, even as unpleasant a distraction as having confirmation of further mistakes, and knowing that seconds, not just minutes, counted in a fight. “And it made things worse?”

“Dunno about worse. I was on my way over there anyway; probably would’ve been there in time if I hadn’t scouted along the way, for all the good that did. We were lucky Vlad didn’t come himself—yet; I’m not delusional enough to think he’s not coming—but he sent enough toys that I couldn’t defend us and help Dani out of there at the same time. Not without splitting myself, anyway, and I’m still not great at that.”

“Jazz is with Vlad.”

“So? You’ve seen Plasmius split himself. He can do that no problem. Jazz is good, but she won’t be able to hold him off forever, and that thing?” He pointed to the prototype she still held loosely in one hand. “If the tracker on you wasn’t enough, that’s proof that he knows exactly where we are despite my best efforts. Or one of my best efforts, anyway. I definitely could’ve tried something that really would’ve had us disappear off the face of the earth, but getting home might’ve been optional, so. Not that desperate.”

Yet.

He didn’t say it, but she could see it in his expression as he glanced back towards the old Jones place, even though the farmhouse itself would be hidden by the shelterbelt.

She didn’t like the thought that Danny could disappear so thoroughly that they might never find him, but she wasn’t sure saying that now would be a comfort to him.

“Aunt Alicia said you gave Cujo cookies.” Danny’s eyes flicked back to hers. “He’s a sucker for treats, so that would’ve sidetracked him a bit, but he knew this was important. Meaning he wouldn’t have brought you if he hadn’t decided to trust you.”

Had he brought her? Alicia had been the one to pull her through, and Maddie didn’t know how much her sister regretted that decision. Still, Cujo hadn’t opened a portal until Alicia had asked him to. Until she’d told him she was ready to go, even.

“I should probably warn you that it doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll trust you from here on out, but if he gave you a chance once, he’s more likely to give it again, especially if you keep giving him treats and play fetch with him and stuff. Cujo’s loyalty can definitely be bought, but it mostly requires being nice to him and the ones he cares about to do it, so I don’t think it’s a huge loss. I mean, he still growls at Vlad, who has most definitely tried buying him off, so. Yeah.”

“Baby steps,” Maddie offered, but Danny only hummed a note of acknowledgement, not agreement.

“We should get back. I don’t want to leave Dani for too long.”

The subject change wasn’t subtle, but Maddie wasn’t about to fight Danny on this. She tucked the ruined invention back into her pocket. “Of course. But— Did you have a chance to ask her if she’d see me?”

“I was a little busy being shot at,” Danny said dryly, “so no, I didn’t. We’ve gotten her settled in, though, and Aunt Alicia’s checking her over, so I figured I’d come get you. I wouldn’t put it past Vlad to overshadow you if he found you alone.”

She stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’d do it if he thought it would help him. Or at least if he thought you wouldn’t find out.”

To say the implication was unsettling was an understatement of grand proportions, but what unnerved her more was the ease and conviction with which Danny had said those words.

Like Vlad had already done this to her before and she’d never noticed.

Danny hadn’t brought that up earlier, but would he have bothered if he hadn’t thought her inclined to believe him?

“Here, I’ll carry you,” Danny said, holding out his arms, and she didn’t know if he preferred to have her in front because it was easier or because some part of him didn’t trust her at his back.

She went to him anyway, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him pick her up with as much ease as his father did.

Danny must be stronger than Jack, at least like this. Then again, she already knew that. Phantom could hold a bus full of children with ease; her weight would hardly strain him. Was he as strong when he looked like the son she’d always known and not the ghost she’d once terrorized? Were his terrible grades in phys ed because he was holding back and trying not to hurt anyone, trying not to expose his secret, and not for any of the myriad of reasons she and Jack had once assumed? She’d have to ask, but it wasn’t the time to ask.

Danny didn’t give her much warning when he took off, only a quiet, “You ready?” without waiting for an answer. The stinging wind caught at her, whipping her hair into her face and back out of it with a minute turn of her head, and she felt resistance in the rush even as they rose above the trees and started towards Alicia’s as the crow flies.

As the ghost flies.

It was cold. It was exhilarating. It wasn’t unlike the dive out of Air Grits before the parachute was deployed, but it was far more controlled, and—

The wind resistance abruptly stopped, sound died away, and the land beneath them blurred as they picked up speed.

She could feel Danny but nothing else.

Part of Maddie wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t want to risk breaking what they had in this moment.

The other part of her wondered if she’d even be able to talk while intangible. Ghosts could, she knew, because ectoplasm allowed them to flaunt practically every law or theorem of physics she’d ever studied, but she didn’t know if the same were true of intangible humans. Would enough ectoplasmic power transfer to allow such a thing or would it only temporarily disrupt the human’s physical properties to the point of intangibility and nothing else?

Danny and Jazz would know. Sam and Tucker would know. She and Jack had never experimented on such a thing because they’d never thought they’d be working with a ghost long enough for it to matter.

Cooperation with ecto-entities had always been something reserved for situations of extreme duress. Even the Red Huntress would call a truce before they would, and it had been a point of pride, of insisting that they would do as much as they could themselves before deigning to work with a ghost—

They’d been so foolish.

How could she have not seen Danny’s earnestness in Phantom’s fierce protection of their town?

Why had she not questioned why he always seemed to stumble over their names?

If she’d opened her eyes to the possibility before this, then maybe—

No.

It didn’t matter.

She couldn’t change the past.

Maddie clung tighter to Danny not because she was afraid but because she wasn’t sure if she’d get another chance to hug him after this. He didn’t give any indication that he’d noticed, flying onward without glancing at her. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d flown straight over Alicia’s house and continued on, but Danny banked and headed for the rooftop. She shut her eyes as they got closer, unable to stop the rising panic in her chest even though she knew that they were intangible and that Danny wouldn’t take that away from her at the last possible moment.

She opened her eyes when her awareness of the world came back. Danny was standing in the spare room that Maddie always used when she came for a visit, though this time it didn’t hold any of Maddie’s things since Alicia’s little bonfire. Now more than ever, Maddie wasn’t convinced that had been necessary, but perhaps it had been Alicia’s way of making a point.

Sometimes, to let go of the past, you need to torch it before moving on.

She’d implemented a similar principle after her divorce, and Maddie had deliberately never asked questions she hadn’t wanted to know the answers to.

Danny cleared his throat, and Maddie shifted so that he could put her down without any trouble. She wasn’t sure it made a difference to him—he’d be strong enough that it shouldn’t—but she hoped the thought counted for something.

Speaking of— “If Vlad’s tracking Danielle directly, what can we do to stop him?”

There was a beat before understanding dawned on Danny’s face. “The DNA sample you gave him. The one that’ll have her ecto-signature too, I’m assuming, because you took it from her when she was in ghost mode.” Maddie didn’t even have to nod before Danny continued, “We can’t really do anything besides fight him. Tuck can wipe his records again when this is over and we can steal back the sample you took if there’s anything left, but this is an old game with Vlad. He tries getting my DNA all the time. Though he’s never had it handed to him on a silver platter before, so he should be enjoying this.”

Maddie flinched. “I’m sorry. I—” I didn’t know. Except she had known. Jazz had protested, and Maddie had handed over the sample anyway. If anything happened, that knowledge would haunt her even more than it already was. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. We’ll deal with it. He had a contingency plan before you guys destroyed it, he might have more we missed, and that was probably active long enough that you handing him the literal thing he needed to track us didn’t save him a whole lot of time in the end. He would’ve found us either way.”

“Sweetie, I’m sorry.”

Danny sighed. “Saying you’re sorry ten billion times isn’t going to change any of this.”

“I still want to say it. It’s true. And it’s…. It’s just the start. I promise.”

He was nodding along like he always did when they talked to him about their inventions, about their theories, which likely meant he put as much stock in her words now.

She didn’t know how long it was going to take her to show him that she meant what she said, but she’d never stop trying to learn, trying to listen, trying to be better—

There was a knock on the door frame, and Maddie and Danny both looked over to see Alicia standing there. “She’s settled,” Alicia announced, “and Cujo’s patrolling but I haven’t heard any barking, so I’m assuming he hasn’t sniffed out anything suspicious yet. Do you want to do another round yourself?”

“I doubt Vlad’s close enough for me to notice yet, but yeah, I better go for a quick one.” Danny glanced at Maddie. “Vlad’s not going to win. I’m not going to let him. We’re not going to let him. Got that?”

She nodded and watched as he flew through the wall.

It was harder to see now that she knew of his humanity than it ever had been when she’d only thought of him as a ghost. Ghosts controlled their own intangibility, but that intangibility could be disrupted, and if that happened at the wrong moment—

No, she didn’t need to contemplate how they might build a failsafe now. Phantom’s expertise with his powers might not be the talk of Amity Park, but Danny was more than competent, and he knew how to take care of himself. She could trust him to survive for now, and once Jack was caught up, they could ask Danny what he needed and how they could help.

Given everything, that was far more likely to elicit a positive response than brainstorming ideas on their own and offering up different plans or prototypes that could be flawed simply because they hadn’t shared their knowledge and had instead acted on previous assumptions that weren’t—

“He won’t be long,” Alicia said. “This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and it won’t be the last.”

Right. Right. That the was the whole point. Danny was more than capable, and he could do what she could not. He’d had to learn how to do all sorts of things for himself because she and Jack hadn’t been there for him. Worse, they’d hunted him, pressured him, threatened to rip him apart molecule by molecule, and then she’d found Danielle and immediately turned around to make good on that threat and—

“Hey, hey, you still with me?” Alicia was closer now, her hands on Maddie’s shoulders. “You’re shaking. How about we sit down on the bed for a minute?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Maddie said even as she let Alicia guide her to the bed. “Danielle’s the one we need to worry about. You should stay with her.”

“She’s settled. Nothing a bit more rest won’t fix. But you….” Alicia hesitated. “I asked her about you. If she’d changed her mind about seeing you, I mean.”

“She won’t have,” Maddie murmured. “Why would she? I’m nothing but her torturer.”

Alicia snorted, so at least one of them found the situation amusing. “What happened to you being all hopeful?”

Maddie didn’t answer. What was she supposed to say, that the reality of the situation was finally hitting her? That she’d come to accept what was surely the awful truth about Vlad only to see how her actions mirrored his, even if she hadn’t known half as much as he apparently had? Was she supposed to admit that she was afraid not of seeing Danielle’s anger but of seeing that fear on her face again? The same fear Maddie had blithely ignored when she’d assumed it was nothing but a ghost’s mask?

“You can stand in the doorway.”

Maddie blinked. “What?”

“She said you could stand in the doorway and talk if you really want to talk. She’ll hear you out.”

Maddie frowned. “Not that I don’t want this, but why? Did she say?” Danny certainly hadn’t sounded like he’d thought Danielle would change her mind, and Danny—

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.” Alicia got to her feet. “You’re looking steadier, so I’m assuming you’re feeling up to it?”

Maddie held out a hand in response, and Alicia took the invitation for what it was to haul her up to a standing position. “I am, I’m just— I don’t think I really thought she’d see me. How can I possibly begin to apologize for what I did?”

“Just start there,” Alicia said, not seeming to realize—or perhaps not caring—how unhelpful that sounded.

“You really think I should stand there and say ‘I don’t know how I can possibly begin to apologize for what I did’?”

“It’s fine to start with an apology. We both know you’ll mean it, and with a bit of time, you’ll be able to show her that you mean it, too. Failing that, just open your mouth and see what comes out. You’ve lived with that husband of yours long enough that I’m sure it’s rubbed off on you at least a little.”

Maddie tsked, but an amused huff was all she got in response. Still, Alicia let Maddie keep hold of her and led her down the hallway to the master bedroom. It shouldn’t have been a hard walk—it wasn’t even that far, just past the family bathroom and the second spare room which Alicia had turned into a project room—but each step felt far heavier than it had when she’d been walking alone down the grid road.

Alicia knocked out shave and a haircut on the closed door. “You still ready for the two of us? We can wait for your cousin to come back if you want. Danny went to do a quick lap again, but I doubt he’ll be long.”

Maddie waited to hear Danielle’s voice again, to hear acceptance or denial in the voice that pleaded and begged for her to stop.

Instead, the answer came in its own knocking form: two bits.

It meant acceptance, apparently, since Alicia’s free hand went to the door knob this time. She pushed it open, shuffling inside and leaving Maddie to lean against the door frame.

Danielle was propped up with pillows on Alicia’s bed, tucked in by more blankets than the weather alone warranted. She didn’t look well (another day, Maddie might have found the strength to joke that she looked like death warmed over or said that she was pale as a ghost), but the green eyes that watched Maddie were clear and bright.

That could be a side effect of the girl’s glow, but it was dimmer than it had been when Maddie had first captured her, so she didn’t think the assessment was entirely unwarranted.

She needed to stop making assessments and start making apologies.

“I’m surprised you agreed to see me,” Maddie said even as she mentally cursed herself for not apologizing first. “I wasn’t sure you would, after everything.”

Danielle said nothing, but Maddie saw her fingers clench around the top quilt.

“I’m sorry,” continued Maddie, even though it already felt like it was too late. “I— I didn’t listen. I wouldn’t listen. I should have stopped, I shouldn’t even have started, but I did and I kept going and I went too far and I— I can’t undo that. And I’m sorry. And I know sorry’s not enough, but it’s just going to be the start, I swear, and even though I can’t fix this, I want to help. It doesn’t— I don’t have to stay here if you’re uncomfortable, but I— Things are going to change. I can promise you that.”

In the stretching silence, Maddie heard Danielle release a long, slow breath.

“I get it,” Danielle finally whispered, only that couldn’t be right, because why would she say that?

“I beg your pardon?”

Danielle flinched and looked down at her hands, which were picking at threads in the quilt. “I know what it’s like to mess up and regret stuff and want to change everything and all that.” She looked up at Maddie again. “I get it.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, or at least Maddie wasn’t about to assume it was, but it was understanding, and that was far more than she’d expected.

She opened her mouth to ask why Danielle felt she understood any of this before catching a look from Alicia and thinking better of it. Instead, she said, “Thank you.”

Danielle had picked a thread loose and seemed far more focused on her continued failure to shove it back into place to acknowledge the words, but Maddie knew she’d heard them.

“Do you want me to leave?” She didn’t want to leave, but she would. If she used Dottie’s phone to call Jazz, maybe she could head off Vlad after all. Danny could be wrong about him already being on his way here, and if Maddie could convince him of some lie—

But how often had she ever been able to convince him of a lie?

He’d always been the one to fool her and Jack; it had rarely been the other way around.

“I dunno,” Danielle mumbled in a tone that meant yes, even if she didn’t say as much. “You can stay if you want. I’m just—” The yawn didn’t look forced, and the exhaustion that had seeped onto her face in the aftermath seemed genuine now that some of the tension in her features was gone. “I’m tired.”

The rest of the sentence was easy enough for Maddie to conclude: so I don’t want to talk right now. It might be an excuse, but it was hardly an unreasonable excuse, and it was easy enough for Maddie to pretend she didn’t see through the façade.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Maddie said before turning to go.

“Tell Danny I wanna see him when he comes back,” Danielle added as Maddie left the room. Maddie froze, turning back and nearly bumping into Alicia. “I thought we’d have more time, and we might if I’m wrong, but…. It’s important if I’m not. And you’re…you, so I— It’s important.”

‘You’re you’? What did she mean by that? Had she thought Maddie had been overshadowed? That she could have been overshadowed, since Danny was so sure Vlad would take the opportunity if it came up? That couldn’t be it alone, though. Danny would be in a much better position to tell if she were overshadowed than a ghost—girl—she’d met twice.

No.

It had to be something more than that.

Maddie could think of dozens of things that Danielle might deem important, if only because she could think of dozens of things her children might deem important, even though circumstances had shown that she didn’t know them as well as she’d thought.

She could not, however, think of something Danielle wouldn’t have immediately told Danny if she’d thought it important, even if she’d thought there would be more time to deal with it.

Then again, if she hadn’t been recovered enough before and there hadn’t been time since….

“I don’t know how far things have gone,” whispered Danielle, her eyes locked onto Maddie’s, “but I know it’s not too late yet.”

Next

[novaursa]

Fire and Gold (the consequences)

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Paring: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @lightdragonrayne

- A/N: This is the last story for today.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep is silent, an oppressive stillness weighing on the air. Dread crackles like a storm about to break as King Aerys II Targaryen, known to many now as the Mad King, sits upon the Iron Throne. His fingers, thin and white as bone, drum restlessly on the armrests, the sound echoing through the chamber like the ticking of a clock counting down to catastrophe.

The hall is empty save for a few trusted guards and the towering presence of Tywin Lannister, who stands at the foot of the throne with his head held high, his face an inscrutable mask. It is a rare sight to see him without his customary calm, but even he knows the volatility of the man before him.

“You dared to think your lioness could strike my blood, my daughter, and there would be no retribution?” Aerys’ voice is soft, almost gentle, but it carries a terrible menace. The flames of the torches lining the walls flicker, casting shadows that seem to dance with the madness in his eyes. “Your precious daughter dared to lay hands upon my Y/N. My most beloved child.”

Tywin’s face remains impassive, though you can see the faintest tension in his jaw. “Your Grace, there must be some misunderstanding. Cersei—”

“Misunderstanding?” Aerys’ voice rises sharply, and he stands, the movement sudden and jerky. His robes billow around him like the wings of a dragon. “Do you take me for a fool, Tywin? My daughter returns from your encampment cut, shaken. My Y/N, who has never known such disgrace, such insult!”

Tywin’s green eyes meet the king’s blazing violet ones. “Your Grace, if there has been an offense, I assure you it was unintended. Cersei—”

Aerys’ laughter rings through the hall, a high, grating sound that sends a shiver down the spine of every man present. “Unintended, he says! The Hand of the King claims his daughter’s treachery was unintended. She openly shamed my daughter before the eyes of our people. Your daughter, who has been nothing but a viper in this court, tried to poison the hearts of our subjects against their rightful queen!”

The Mad King steps down from the throne, his gaze never leaving Tywin. The guards stiffen but do not move, knowing better than to interfere. “You think your children are safe because you are my Hand? Because you have served me well in the past?” He leans forward, eyes glittering with a wild light. “I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin. I could order Cersei to be burned alive and no one would dare stop me. I could burn your golden boy Jaime as well, see how well your lions roar then.”

Tywin’s composure does not falter, but a muscle twitches in his cheek. “Your Grace, I beg you to consider—”

“Consider?” Aerys hisses, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “I have considered. You think yourself so high, Tywin. So far above us all, above your king. But you are nothing without me. Nothing! You swore to protect my family, to serve the realm. And now, your blood turns against mine.”

He straightens, drawing himself up to his full, regal height, his presence a blazing fury. “I strip you of your title as Hand of the King. You will leave this court immediately and take your poisonous brood with you.”

Tywin’s eyes narrow, the only sign of his anger. “Your Grace, I have served the realm faithfully for—”

Aerys cuts him off with a savage gesture. “For too long! Too long have you schemed and plotted under my nose. Did you think I would not notice, Tywin? That I would not see your ambition, your pride?” He leans forward, his face a mask of twisted rage. “I see everything. I know everything. And I will not have it.”

The King’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “If your daughter so much as breathes near my Y/N again, if she dares to touch a hair on her head, I will burn her alive. I will burn you all. The lions of Casterly Rock will be nothing but ash.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Tywin stands there, a statue of marble and iron, the weight of the King’s words settling on his shoulders. But he does not bow, does not flinch.

“As you command, Your Grace,” Tywin finally says, his voice steady. “We will leave the capital at once.”

Aerys’ eyes gleam with triumph. “Good. Go back to your Rock, Tywin. And remember this day. Remember what happens when you think to cross a dragon.”

With that, he turns away, dismissing Tywin as if he were nothing more than a bothersome fly. The former Hand of the King bows, a shallow, mocking dip of his head, before turning on his heel and striding from the hall. His back is rigid, unyielding, but you can sense the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

As the heavy doors close behind Tywin, Aerys slumps back onto the Iron Throne, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The madness in his eyes dims, replaced by a strange, almost childlike weariness. He leans his head back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, a smile curling his lips.

“My daughter,” he murmurs to the empty hall. “No one will ever harm you. Not while I am king.”

But even as he speaks, you know that this is only the beginning. The wolves are circling, the lions crouched in the shadows, and the dragons? The dragons are restless, their flames licking at the bonds of peace that have held the realm together for so long.

And now, with Tywin Lannister cast down, those bonds threaten to shatter.

Storm’s End looms ahead, its ancient walls stark against the darkening sky. Tywin Lannister rides through the gates, his face as hard and unforgiving as the stone fortress that now houses his daughter. His entourage is small—just a handful of guards and his most trusted men. He has no intention of lingering here longer than necessary. He has come for one reason, and one reason alone.

As Tywin dismounts, his cold green eyes scan the courtyard. Servants scatter like frightened mice, aware of the tempest in his gaze. He strides purposefully toward the main hall, his boots striking the ground with a grim, unyielding rhythm. He does not slow his pace as the great doors swing open, revealing the grand chamber within.

Cersei stands at the center of the hall, her posture rigid, her face a mask of defiance and fear. She is dressed in her finest gown, a deep crimson that mirrors the color of Lannister pride, but the color does little to hide the trepidation in her eyes. She knows her father’s wrath is like a storm—merciless, relentless. And today, she is caught in its path.

“Father,” she greets him, her voice steady, though there is a tremor beneath it.

Tywin does not acknowledge her words. He looks past her, dismissing her greeting as if she were nothing more than a child who had disappointed him. His gaze sweeps the room and lands on Robert Baratheon, who lounges on his lord’s chair, a goblet of wine in hand. Robert’s eyes narrow as Tywin approaches, but there is no welcome in his expression.

“Lord Tywin,” Robert says, his voice slurring slightly. He shifts in his seat, a smirk playing at his lips. “Come to collect your troublesome daughter, have you?”

Tywin’s eyes, icy and penetrating, fix on Robert. “This matter does not concern you, Baratheon.” His voice is cold, precise, each word sharp as a dagger. “Leave us.”

Robert’s smirk falters. He glances at Cersei, who stands silent and still, and then back at Tywin. For a moment, he looks as if he might argue, but something in Tywin’s gaze—something deadly—makes him think better of it. He pushes himself up from his chair with a grunt and stumbles toward the door.

“Whatever,” he mutters, waving a hand dismissively. “Handle your family, Lannister. I’ve had enough of this.”

The doors close behind him with a heavy thud, and the hall falls into a silence so deep it seems to swallow every breath, every heartbeat.

Tywin turns his full attention to Cersei. The fury in his eyes is a burning, unyielding force, and she feels the weight of it like a physical blow. She straightens, lifting her chin, trying to summon her usual haughty confidence, but it feels brittle, fragile, in the face of his wrath.

“You dare,” Tywin begins, his voice a deadly whisper, “to jeopardize everything I have built, everything I have planned, for your petty pride? Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Cersei’s mouth opens, a protest ready on her lips, but Tywin’s hand lashes out, striking the table beside her with such force that she flinches. The sound echoes through the hall, a harsh, jarring noise that sets her nerves on edge.

“You drew dragon blood,” Tywin continues, his voice rising, each word a thunderclap. “Do you think that means nothing? Do you think you can strike at the heart of House Targaryen and there will be no consequences?”

“Father, I—”

“Silence!” His roar shakes the very walls, and she falls silent, her heart pounding in her chest. Never, not even in her childhood, has she seen him like this. The cold, controlled fury she is used to, but this—this is something else. This is rage stripped of all restraint, all reason.

“You have put our house in peril,” Tywin hisses, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “The Mad King threatened to burn you, Cersei. To burn Jaime. Do you think I will allow you to destroy everything I have worked for?”

Her defiance crumbles, the words she wants to say dying in her throat. “I—”

“You,” he spits, cutting her off, “are a foolish, reckless girl. You think yourself a queen, a lioness. But all you’ve done is make us vulnerable.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, every word enunciated with chilling clarity. “You forget yourself, Cersei. You forget your place. You forget that your actions reflect not only on you but on all of us.”

Her pride, her vanity, have always been her armor. But now, under the force of her father’s anger, it shatters. Tears sting her eyes, and she blinks them back, refusing to show that weakness. But he sees, of course. Tywin sees everything.

“You will not defy me again,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. “You will remember who you are and what you owe this family. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” she whispers, hating the quiver in her voice, hating the way he makes her feel—small, insignificant.

Tywin’s gaze holds hers, his eyes as cold and unfeeling as the stone walls around them. “You will return to Casterly Rock. You will stay there until I say otherwise. You will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” she repeats, her voice barely audible.

“Good.” He steps back, the distance between them a chasm she cannot cross. “Remember, Cersei. The only reason you are still alive is because I will not allow House Lannister to be destroyed by your stupidity.”

She flinches at the harshness of his words, but she nods, holding her head high despite the tears that threaten to spill over. He looks at her one last time, his gaze filled with cold contempt, before turning and walking out of the hall, leaving her standing there, alone and broken.

The doors close behind him, and she sags against the table, her hands gripping the edge as if it is the only thing keeping her upright. She feels the rage burning inside her, mingling with the pain and humiliation. How dare he speak to her like that, treat her like a child?

But she knows, deep down, that her father is right. She has overstepped, has endangered everything. And now she will have to live with the consequences of her actions. She will have to endure the punishment he has decreed.

But as she stands there, trembling with the effort of holding herself together, she vows that one day, she will make them all pay. Tywin, Rhaegar, the Targaryen whore who has taken everything she wanted—one day, they will all suffer as she has suffered.

One day, the lioness will roar again.

The chamber is filled with the sweet scent of lavender and the faint, sterile tang of healing herbs. Soft light filters through the high windows, casting gentle shadows on the stone walls. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cold air brushing against your bare skin as Grand Maester Pycelle carefully unwinds the bandage from your side.

“Almost done, Your Grace,” Pycelle murmurs, his voice trembling slightly with age. He peers at the now-healed cut, his expression one of clinical detachment. “The wound has healed well, though the scar will remain.”

You nod, your eyes not on the maester but on Rhaegar. He stands nearby, his gaze locked on you with a mix of concern and anger that he has not yet managed to let go. His silver hair, caught in the afternoon light, seems almost ethereal, and his violet eyes soften as they meet yours.

“I should have been there,” he says, his voice low, filled with regret. He steps closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the chill in the room. “I should have protected you.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing his hand in a reassuring gesture. “You couldn’t have known, Rhaegar. Cersei’s malice was not your fault.”

Pycelle finishes his work, dabbing a final bit of ointment over the scarred flesh. “You must continue to rest, Princess,” he advises, though his eyes flick nervously between you and Rhaegar. “And avoid any strenuous activity.”

You nod absentmindedly, your attention still on Rhaegar. “Thank you, Grand Maester.”

Pycelle bows deeply and shuffles out of the room, leaving you alone with Rhaegar. He moves closer, his fingers gently tracing the scar that mars your skin, the touch as light as a feather. You can feel the anger simmering beneath his gentle exterior, the barely contained fury at what has been done to you.

“I hate that this happened to you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You should never have had to suffer such a thing.”

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes. “I’m still here, Rhaegar. A scar is just a mark. It doesn’t change who I am.”

“But it shouldn’t have happened at all.” His tone is fierce, and you open your eyes to see the torment etched in his features. “I failed you, Y/N. I let that woman hurt you.”

You shake your head, taking his hand in yours and pressing it to your lips. “You didn’t fail me. You saved me by standing with me, by being here now. You are my strength, Rhaegar.”

He exhales shakily, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you,” he breathes, the words a soft vow. “More than anything. More than life itself.”

You smile, your heart swelling with warmth despite the pain and the memories that linger. “And I love you. We’ve faced worse than this, haven’t we?”

His lips curve into a small, rueful smile. “We have.” He lifts your hand, his lips brushing across your knuckles. “But I swear, no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I still draw breath.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice that sends a shiver down your spine, and you know he means every word. You pull him closer, your arms wrapping around his neck as you bury your face against his shoulder. His embrace is strong, protective, and you feel the tension in his body, the barely suppressed urge to take revenge for what has been done to you.

“I don’t care about the scar,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m just glad to be here with you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze searching your face. “You are the strongest person I know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “Stronger than I could ever be.”

You smile, a quiet, private smile meant only for him. “I’m strong because I have you.”

His expression softens, the anger fading as he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s not the fierce passion that sometimes flares between you, but something deeper, a promise of love and devotion that will withstand any storm.

When he pulls away, his hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Rest now,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

You nod, feeling the exhaustion finally catching up with you. He helps you lie back, his hands gentle as he adjusts the blankets around you. His presence is a calming, steady anchor, and as your eyes drift shut, you know that whatever comes, whatever challenges you still have to face, you will not face them alone.

Rhaegar presses one last kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there, as if to imprint his love and protection onto your very skin. “Sleep, my love,” he whispers, his voice a soft caress. “I’ll guard your dreams.”

[anincorrectpetunia]

**UPDATED ‘As Always’ (Olitz Fan Fic)

Episode 15: Talk to Me

124 appeared smaller to Olivia now as she stared straight ahead. The night was cloudy, making the house's eggshell blue appear grey. Had she ever seen it in the dead of night like this? Those teen years when she might have snuck out, and later wandered home in trepidation, hoping to escape the wrath of her waiting father as he rained down on her warnings about adventurous teen girls going bump in the night, never materialized. No stumbling in before dawn smelling of frat house booze either. All of that happened in another land. So, no, 124 had never shown itself like this. Not to her.

An owl in the distance made itself known as Olivia stared at the brass lion's head affixed to the red portal of her childhood home. Her knuckles rapped against it thrice.

"Olivia," said the woman who opened the door a few moments later. "And you must be Fitzgerald." Her voice did not ebb with surprise, but a tone closer to weary expectation. Her half-smile was fit for the hour, but her dark eyes sparkled clear. Locked away under the olive headwrap she wore were strands of locs, save for a few peek-a-boo ones at the nape of her neck. The haphazardly tied bow of her waffle-textured dressing gown was drawn over her fleshy body. Not tight enough to stifle the aroma of a concentrated, artificial fragrance wafting across the door's threshold.

Olivia sniffed and sniffed and sniffed and then replied, "Coconut Hibiscus Illuminating Body Wash, right?"

At this, the older woman shuttered her eyes, understanding that she must have been careless at least once.

"Right," she acknowledged. Her hand still clutched the open door.

Olivia nodded gently, "Hmmph." Opening the Pandora's Box of Ms. Body Wash would have to wait. One thing at a time. "I'm here to see my father."

"It's 2 AM and he's— "

FF: bit.ly/44CqaNx

AO3: bit.ly/44GrrmK

[sybilius]

🍄🧩 for the ask meme please?

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

One of my more treasured headcanons is that Okada is fond of ramune -- this came from a fic a good friend wrote after my first Jaykada fic, ok google what's a synonym for rat where she spooled out a scene from Jay's young lion era, Okada teasing him a bit by challenging him to open the drink without knowing how to pop the glass marble. I referenced it again in leach and lift -- it's a little thing, but it's oddly important to me that when Jay sees or drinks ramune, he thinks of Okada.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Two of my most often bugbears: no line breaks (please for the love of god--), and poorly chosen epithets that read like they are blatantly trying to avoid just using the character's name for no reason (no "the blonde" "the other man" -- unless the POV character is talking about a stranger they just met that's no way to address their lover/object of affections, ffs).

There's been exceptions. There was a fic in the Disco Elysium fandom that was so goddamn good and unique that I overlooked the lack of line breaks (Focus, by HtonS) -- but tbh, you can tell just from the phrase "a quiet kind of crazy; he loves Harry with the focus of a sniper rifle’s scope" that this is worth a second shot.

And then the epithet bugbear is really easy to overcome: just only use epithets when you have a well thought out reason to. Well thought out epithets are hot and sexy and create and emphasize tension. Epithets for the sake of avoiding names is like, well, I am leaving this fic now I'm afraid.

[ambloom]

what's your favorite ff .......

Tactics! Specifically War of The Lions. The gorgeous cutscenes and retranslation elevated an already fantastic game. mechanics make my head buzz.

If we're talking about a mainline numbered ff game, then ff6. Really creative presentation using the fight screen as a stage. the sprites felt like they were acting out a play with the player as the audience with the way they would converse mid fight and walk around dramatically. Also loved how many tight scenarios had out of the box zany solutions just because they could. Villain burning our castle down? Let's move it somewhere else.

I also have a soft spot for ff12 and will defend vaan and penelo. they're way more than audience inserts.

[yume-tsuki]

Eight Guards of the abyss 3

@-@ It's still a bit hart finding the writing style for this ff~~ but it's getting better (at part 12 at last XDD) #eight guards of the abyss for more chapters The young man on the panel is Constantin; Tristan and Isolde's son. charming point is the hair on his head, I decided giving him 3 single hairs representing him, his father and grand father. Rest of the eight guards under the cut

Constantine/Tin/Tintin 23: 1/4 human; demon and holy; son of Tristan and Isolde; leader of the Guardians Mordred/Morty 17: human-Parents unknown; living in Liones Castle; Etheldred/Edda* 20: human-daughter of Donny and Tioreh; even when her mother is half fairy and giant; she isn't owning fairy and giant magic but similiar one Lohengrin/Loh23:-human daughter of Percival and Anne; best friend with Edda; living most of her live in Sistana. Galahad/Gal 23: -human 1/3 fairy- son of Lancelot mother unknown; lives in Liones; he is mostly followed by Amber an Unicorn, who mostly looks more like a sheep or goat** Helen 16-ancient of the goddess- parents unknown Belinos/Bel 23- demon-son of Bedivere and Io; grandchild of Zeldris and Gelda***; lives mostly in Camelot Artemes 20- giant- parents unknown- he cut his hair after the first event, to look cooler and stronger when I write Liones ->Lioness it's because in german they wrote it that way *she was based as daughter of Donny and Anne; and it's a bit hart not to let her be their child. I thought aboutthem having one night together but it feld wrong. And I like Diane Howzer so it ended up letting Donny be together with Tioreh ** I thought it would be funny letting them have a mascot similiar to 7ds and 4koa; so a pig like the boar sin; a fox like the fox sin; and the sheep/goat stands for the goat sin *** they got a son in my story; but they thought he died when he was a toddler; First meeting him 14 years later

[cybervesna]

Gush About Your OC

Thank you for tagging me @maimaiapologist  ❤️ It was cool to read more about Sal ❤️    

📚  Rules:

💛 Post 5 Facts about your

💛Open the latest section of #cyberpunk 2077 tag and reblog 5 posts of people you don’t follow, giving them nice tags.

💛 Tag 5 People to spread the game. Tagging: @arasakas-ronin @scuttlebuttin @scumpatrol @abysswaatchers @kohnnor​ 

Why not, I decided I will give some spotlight to my guilty pleasure baby - Himiko  💛

💛 First of all she technically doesn’t exist lol. Let me explain: Himiko started as an April Fool’s joke baby of my Vincent and Hanako at the old server I was in, 2 years ago. She’s not part of my “official headcanons” but she’s my guilty pleasure headcanon I run for comfort when I want to be mushy and cute and have happy vibes thinking that despite everything my otp got together for so long and they’re somehow happy. So technically, she’s in additional AU to my Blaze of Glory AU where Hanako never went nomad with Vincent cuz instead of leaving with Aldecaldos after the Devil Ending, he decided to do the gig from Mr. Blue-Eyes gaining worldwide fame as the most dangerous man alive. I hope that means sense.  💛 Himiko is lab-made baby! I can imagine that since Hanako is chromed she’s already infertile in 2077, but after all she is the Arasaka so I bet her eggs were stored for the sake of Arasakas future. So Himiko was made in-vitro, in womb like enviroment in the most top secret Arasaka Labs in Tokyo.  💛 Her existence is kept secret from the world, kind of. In 2081 a year after her “birth” Saburo informed the public that he was blessed with new member of Arasaka family - a child of his beloved daughter Hanako, and her husband Vincenzo Giovanna. However, it was everything the public knew for decades to come. Instead Himiko was given a secret surname as Himiko Ikeda (hehe in my nomad ff Hanako is undercover as Asami Ikeda), and had pretty much what would seem a normal kid experience growing up in Kyoto, going to school like any other kid. In reality it was really stresfull situation where she developed a fear towards other peers, being scared of befriending anyone, afraid they will realize who she is and her life would be ruined. However that did not stopped her from being the leader among others as she even was the Head of the Student’s Council in her High School.  💛 In her childhood, when her father’s cat who was her bestest friend - Nibbles - died due to old age, her grandfather used this as opportunity to play on little Himiko. Instead of “another stray cat” in the family, Saburo gifted Himiko a baby of the last living lions that she named Kumo (meaning: cloud). Of course her parents were outraged by this, as it was super dangerous, and they needed to keep Lion Trainers around. Years later due to Kumo being an offspring of already struggling animals, he turned out to have a lot of health problems that slowly became uncurable. When Kumo started getting his first cybernetic parts Himiko swore she herself will find a way to save his life, therefore she pursued her interest in cybernetics and ended up designing life-saving parts that she asked her mother to make the software for. At the end Himiko and Hanako saved Kumo, and he lived many more years with her. Thanks to behavioral chip that Hanako wrote, Kumo was unable to cause harm to Himiko or the family, so the trainers and precautions weren’t needed anymore.  💛 Those who knew of her existence had mixed opinions. She was either loved, or shamed for variety of reasons. The most prominient one was Saburo’s own way of thinking that Vincent’s genes disgrace purity of Arasaka bloodline.  P.S. I have to make future appearances for Hanako and Vincent just to take pics with her  😭

[mischiefashale]

If all of these people turning into mist is supposed to be an explanation for why Alison isn't dead then she should have turned into damn mist too.

I wish these guys remembered that the light comes from the same place as the music. I wish to see these battles.

Remember who you are. Is this the Lion King?

Eli wolfing out for the first time right after he loses his dad is a much better narrative.

OMG Allison is about to push Scott off of Pride Rock bahahaha. Lion King indeed.

Of course he would stab himself instead of just knocking her out.

Jackson continues to give me life.

Peter Hale crawling around sniffing on pride Rock is going to live rent free in my head forever.

He had to be that close to the ground to smell blood? I don't even care it's just amazing.

"don't fight the Oni, kill them." Leave it to Lydia to be the voice of reason.

He knew that was the plan and still stabbed himself anyways. Oh for the love of God.

Lydias love of chemistry is showing.

How did Jackson not know that Rowan trees become mountain ash?

Okay fine I can ship Malia and parish as long as it means her getting a man who's on her level.

"Then I'm definitely not dying tonight.." lol

She should be having flashbacks to her sewing Scott up.

This shit is killing me.

That wolfsbane should have gone to his heart and killed him already.

He's definitely gonna stick his claws in her neck.

I love Derek's excitement at Eli learning to heal.

Yassss obligatory lacrosse scene.

So is BH big enough for a college or did they walk across Beacon County.

Supposed to be dead is now just "starting to become a recurring theme" STARTING!?!?!

Omfg it's been awhile since I read spoilers I forgot it's HARRIS as the big bad. HARRIS!?!?!!

I hope someone punches Jeff Davis.

Omfg I have so many better Ally resurrection stories.

Only responds to fire and the wolfsbane you shit him with! FFS

What in the fucking rewrite of canon is happening here?

You want to live or not? With a road flare? I guess it makes sense since he almost died by one oh wait and there's the flashbacks.

That is Def Stiles Jr

And then she just leaves to find her dad? Like omg maybe stick together.

Jeff Davis really has no qualms about giving big grown up feelings to emotionally stunted children.

Jackson can touch mountain ash now?

Omfg yes it is HARRIS. I can't decide if it's Pete Jackson to not remember the teacher that had a hard-on for him or not.

But I am dying at Jackson being like I was in London for all of that.

I'm also loving the look on a coach's face as soon as he see Scott McCall. "you are not ruining this for me."

HE IS NOT PLAYING LAX! NO NO NO WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? Why is this Coaches solution?

We all know that should say number 24.

If I didn't hate this narrative so much I would think that Harris would be actually a good villain.

Coyotes breaking into the house is why Derek doesn't transform? I would most certainly think that the smell of a predator like a werewolf would have kept the coyotes at Bay.

And why wasn't Derek turning into a wolf all the time to let his son play with him and his puppy self.

I hate that this is the reason she left Stiles.

How the fuck is Harris alive? Tho?

Bahahaha Greenburg.

But really was there a reason that Scott had to join him on the field?

Of course Scott can take being stabbed legitimately in the heart and still talk but Peter gets a little cut on the hand and he's down for the count.

Omg Malia is my favorite. "Okay what do you need? You need a pep talk one of those you can do this speeches? I don't do speeches I don't do pep talks. I'm not here to boost your ego. And I'm not going to be your cheerleader. So whatever you need to do to get your shit together, you're going to do this for yourself, and you got to do this right now."