#god I miss the lady who did my hair where I used to live

[vapid-gay]

Went to a barber shop took 60 points of psychic damage

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 1

Chapter Summary:

When the Hightower knight met the minstrel, first impressions were made.

NOTE: I don’t own ASOIAF and the characters except from the OCs that I made up. The song is from ASOIAF so I don’t take credit of it.

Trying to help out Gwayne girlies out there, we need more of fics about him.  It will be a slow burn story with enemies to lovers trope.  I’ve pictured Gwayne as a bit of an elitist but a good man who highly value his honor.

I'm open to constructive criticism should anyone have suggestions to improve my writing. Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

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The trotting of the horse’s hooves broke the silence in the Kingswood. A lady with dark hair and violet eyes rode a stallion, galloping with such speed that her hands were occupied with a bow and arrow. One could mistake her for a peasant, just like the knight who accompanied her. He stood in the clearing, and as the lady continued to move forward, he rolled a small tire wrapped in a cloth towards her.

The lady relaxed her fingers on the string, releasing the arrow from her bow. Thump. The arrow knocked the tire down.

“Perhaps we can return to the castle and you can practice again some other day, Lady Rhaella?” suggested the knight, picking up the tire and inspecting where the arrow had hit. He was almost twice the size of the woman with blonde hair. The cloth was tattered with holes from previous arrows that had pierced through it.

He raised the tire for Rhaella to inspect from her horse. The arrow had failed to hit the golden center, and the lady shook her head. “Not good enough.”

She held onto the horse’s reins and stopped the animal from moving around. “I just need to practice more, and we’ll get back, Ser Qarl.”

“You hit the tire again,” the man reminded her.

“I missed the center. My mother was an excellent hunter. If I am to fill her seat, I need to be as skilled as she was.”

“There is no question about your mother’s skills, but she had years of experience to her advantage.”

“After I’ve used all the arrows in the quiver, we can return to the Keep,” she announced, guiding the horse’s movement with pressure from her legs. “Again, Ser.”

Qarl bowed his head, walking to the side of the clearing and waiting for Rhaella and the horse to move again.

Once all the arrows were used, the knight gathered their items. Two arrows had hit the ground and missed the tire entirely, but he was grateful to the Gods that the lady did not insist on prolonging her practice with the bow.

He mounted his horse, and Rhaella joined him with her own steed. “Thank you, Ser Qarl,” she smiled at the knight.

“It’s my pleasure, my lady.” Ser Qarl had seen her as a babe and had become her sworn shield since she was sent to the capital with her cousin and uncle. A growling sound made Rhaella stop her horse, and her gaze fell to her companion’s stomach.

Rhaella giggled, and Qarl tried to maintain a stoic expression. “We’ll head to eat near the Rose Road first.”

“My lady—”

“Do you dare argue with your lady?” She sounded firm, yet her lips broke into a grin that told Qarl otherwise.

“The King will come searching for you if we don’t return soon.”

“They’ll only worry if we haven’t returned by midday. I’m feeling famished as well. I know a tavern on the Roseroad. If you wish, we can just bring the food and drinks on our way back to the castle.” She turned to him, grinning.

“We have only a few coins with us, my lady,” he argued. Rhaella was used to living in castles where there was no need to bring coins, as they had servants to attend to their needs.

There was a moment of silence as Rhaella maintained her gaze on Qarl. “Leave it to me, Ser.” She winked at him as they both headed toward the Roseroad.

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Arriving earlier than expected in the Crownlands, Gwayne Hightower decided to stop at a nearby inn to spend the night. His father and younger sister could surely manage another day without him. He needed to be in peak condition for the upcoming tourney. The room was quaint, far from the luxuries of his chamber back in Oldtown. However, the delicious wine served was a fitting compensation for the modest accommodation.

It was late in the morning, and Gwayne planned to leave the next day to meet his sister, the Queen. The wooden shutters of the window were raised, letting sunlight brighten the room.

A knock on the door caught his attention, and soon the door swung open with a servant carrying food. “From the innkeeper, Ser.” Once the food was laid on the table, the young lad quickly disappeared.

Gwayne took the bread and went to the window. The height of the tavern was no match for what he was accustomed to back home. His eyes darted to the crowd forming outside the inn. A minstrel was singing, capturing the attention of passersby. All he could see was the woman’s dark hair seeping out from beneath her short acorn hat, as the crowd shielded her full appearance.

A smile graced his lips as he glimpsed the woman. Her face appeared small from where he stood, and though her clothes were worn-out, it was the grace in her movements that captivated the knight.

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

When the song came to an end, the minstrel curtsied, and the crowd clapped, some tossing coins onto the cloth laid beneath her feet. Gwayne quickly found his coin pouch and made his way out of the tavern.

There, he saw the maiden collecting the coins along with a blonde companion. “I believe you deserve more for such an impressive performance,” he said, holding out a few coins to the young woman.

She turned to her companion with a proud smile before looking back at Gwayne. There was something familiar about her eyes.

Upon closer inspection, Gwayne realized that his initial impression had been misleading. His gaze lingered on the violet-eyed woman, who possessed a beauty that made him captivated, not planning to tear his gaze anytime soon.

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Ser,” she said, her eyes gleaming with gratitude as she accepted the coins.

Gwayne noticed her smile briefly fade when her gaze landed on the sigil of his House etched on his clothes.

“I can offer more gold coins if you sing another song,” he proposed. After all, wasn’t that what minstrels sought? Not just admiration but also fair compensation? He figured that a few extra coins might sway her to accommodate his request or even mention his connection to the Queen.

“Not all people can be bought with coins.” A frown creased his face at her response. She moved quickly, gathering the remaining coins from the ground.

“I only wish for another song. Surely, a minstrel would have time for that,” he persisted, trying to charm her.

“I’m afraid I must go. Thank you again for the coins.” She bowed her head, then tugged her companion’s sleeve. Before Gwayne could say another word, they began to run, disappearing from view. His brow furrowed in confusion as he watched them leave.

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Each step Lady Rhaella and Ser Qarl took was swallowed by the buzzing noise of the servants in the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast. The cold and damp halls were brightened by the tapestries that covered the walls. Rhaella was dressed in bronze and black, while the knight wore his full armor. The servants bustled about the Red Keep as House Targaryen prepared for a tourney in honor of the King’s anniversary with the Queen. It was the fifth or perhaps the sixth year; Rhaella couldn’t be entirely certain.

“The King will kill me if he knew what you did yesterday, my lady. You should stop going out among the smallfolk unguarded,” Ser Qarl whispered carefully, despite there being no one near them. He knew full well that the walls of the Red Keep had eyes and ears.

“I will not let my uncle kill you. You have done your duty; I’m still alive, aren’t I, Ser Qarl?” she replied, walking slowly while the knight followed her.

“You were almost caught yesterday,” the man reminded her for the hundredth time since the incident. “A Hightower, no less.”

“Almost,” she pointed out with her hands clasped behind her back as she turned to him. “I have no intention of doing it again soon.”

“You must be careful.” Ser Qarl was about to remind her of the perils of leaving the Red Keep, but Rhaella was quick to cut him off.

Her smile disappeared, and her face turned somber as she spoke. “Once I rule Runestone, I’ll have no time for such follies. I’ll do my duty to our people and vassals. I will not stray from my responsibilities as my father did to my mother.” There was a pause before she forced a smile back. “But until then, I must find pleasure in the simplest things.”

Her sworn shield sighed, trying to understand the Lady’s position. In his eyes, she was still but a child, though she would soon be wed and rule Runestone. It seemed like only yesterday when he was tasked with protecting her on their journey to King’s Landing at the behest of the King and the Rogue Prince.

“Here. Do as you wish.” She handed him the golden coins from yesterday’s earnings. Ser Qarl took the money with hesitation. Over the years he had served her, he knew she would eventually find a way to force him to accept it. “I’ll be here with the Princess and spend the rest of the day safely in the Keep. You need not worry, Ser.”

“Ser Harwin.” She smiled at the Captain of the City Watch, who was guarding the door. Known as ‘Breakbones,’ he was bigger in stature than her sworn shield. The knight and heir of Harrenhal gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

“Lady Rhaella.” Ser Harwin announced her arrival outside Rhaenyra’s chamber.

“Good morrow, Princess.” Rhaella curtsied and walked inside the Princess’s chamber. Rhaenyra looked radiant as she carried her second child.

“You don’t have to visit me every morning, cousin.” The Realm’s Delight was seated in a chair, rubbing her swollen belly and watching her dark-haired toddler on the ground.

The color of Rhaenyra’s son had led to questions about his legitimacy. Only when a dragon egg hatched in his cradle did the rumors slowly die out. There were still whispers in the castle, but Rhaella cared little about them. She didn’t think it mattered much when Rhaenyra was the one who gave birth to him and she was next in line for the throne. He was still family.

Rhaella knelt on the ground where Rhaenyra’s firstborn child was playing. “What if I’m here to visit my nephew? Besides, I am one of your ladies-in-waiting and I must learn a thing or two before I return to Runestone.”

The cousins shared a laugh, and Rhaenyra stood up and moved closer to where Jacearys and Rhaella were. “How are you feeling, Your Grace?”

“Like the babe is ready to burst out of me.” It was a learning experience to see her cousin pregnant and giving birth. It was the same fate she would endure in the future once a match was found for her.

“The Maesters say you have about a week before he or she arrives. You might still make it to the tourney with the King and Queen on the morrow.”

“I need help.” Rhaenyra looked at her cousin, freezing before she looked back at Rhaella.

“With what?” Rhaella released Jace, turning her full attention to the Princess.

“Syrax has laid a fresh clutch of eggs. I need to choose one for the babe.”

Rhaella stood up, straightening her dress and nodding at Rhaenyra’s words. “I’ll call the dragon keepers and have them bring the eggs up here.”

“You might want to choose one for yourself,” the Princess suggested, smiling and holding Rhaella’s arm.

“Dragons are not for me, Princess.” She had failed to hatch a dragon, and she feared that this might be why her father had been distant with her. Then again, she was the one who had insisted on remaining in Westeros rather than joining him in Pentos with his new wife.

The Princess looked at her softly and placed a finger under Rhaella’s chin. “You’re not just a Royce but a Targaryen. The blood of the dragon runs in your veins just as it does in mine and your nephew’s.”

“I know.” Her voice quivered slightly. The late Lady of Runestone hadn’t hidden her disdain for dragons, perhaps because of her husband. Rhaella really couldn’t tell.

She grew up in Runestone, and whenever her parents met, there was anything but love. It made her feel like a pawn in a game, opening her eyes at a young age to what noble marriages were like—a fate she would follow.

Her mother wanted her to live in Runestone, where she would one day rule, while Daemon wanted to whisk her away from her mother’s grasp.

“If you don’t want a dragon egg, there is another option,” Rhaenyra’s voice brought her back to the present.

Rhaella waited in silence as the Princess continued.

Rhaenyra placed her hand on her swollen belly. “There are dragons in Dragonstone that need riders. I will fly there once I give birth. You are more than welcome to join us.”

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Rhaella rushed into Maegor’s Holdfast toward the library where a Maester was waiting for her. Her lessons were similar to those of young lords who would rule their lands, but she had learned that they were much gentler, not including any training in the yard. This was in stark contrast to her mother and father, who did not mind her learning how to fight.

Almost stumbling, she managed to stop just as she saw the Queen descending the staircase with her royal guards and children. “Lady Rhaella,” Alicent Hightower greeted her in a green dress. The older woman appeared to be in high spirits, her smile bright and welcoming.

“My Queen,” Rhaella curtsied and waved to the young child one of the servants was carrying.

Without saying another word, the Queen continued on her way, and Rhaella hurried to the library. She flung open the doors, panting as she tried to catch her breath.

She stepped into the room and walked past the bookshelves to look out the window. From where she stood, she saw the Queen and a few carriages coming to a stop. “Hightowers,” she muttered, her curiosity momentarily distracting her from the other person in the library.

Her heart skipped a beat seeing the Auburn hair Knight whom she met at Roseroad. His blue eyes held her captive for a second, and she would have entertained him with another song but the Hightower sigil was more than enough to stop her from indulging him.

Her father’s words about the Queen’s family echoed in her mind: “They’re power-hungry cunts, daughter. Be wary of them.”

“It should not surprise you, my lady. They are taking part in the tourney,” a voice made her jump. An old man, wearing several links of chains around his neck, walked over to her.

“Maester Murch,” she addressed the older man with a weary smile.

“You barely made it.” Disappointment laced his voice, his eyes cold and dark.

“My apologies, Maester Murch.” She offered a sheepish smile, but the Maester’s expression remained unchanged.

“We’ll have to begin today’s lesson unless you prefer we gossip like old maids about the Queen’s family?” He asked, placing a broad, brown book on a table. With a grimace, Rhaella moved away from the window and took a seat at the table where the Maester had placed the book.

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon ||

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 873

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 3:

THE MOON

I sat on my chair, legs crossed and seeing Mr. Parfez all beaten up, nose damaged and a severe cut on his legs. As far as I could count, my men stabbed him twenty-eight times on his thigh, used a knife and cut his cheeks—making his smile much wider and disturbing. Blood all over the tiles and how he is pleading for his life. Cigarette in hand, I puff out a smoke and stood up, using the end of my shoe—I lift his chin up.

Holy shit he looks horrible, this would be very horrifying for my girl.

I puff out another smoke and tilt my head to the side, his eyes met mine and I tap an excess cigar on him, he yells in pain and I push my remaining cigar into his eyes as he bleeds out in my hand—he tried to back out, lift my feet up and step on his chest to make him fall back in to the cold tile full of his blood. His screams can be heard in every corner of this fucking torture chamber of a room. I love how it’s also soundproof, no one can hear his cries for help and how much he pleads for mercy.

But I show neither sympathy nor mercy.

This if the price he must pay after making a fool out of myself, after scamming and breaking our contract like that. He fucking deserves it.

After pushing my remaining cigar to his eyes, he neither moves or struggles. He was dead, I killed him and I don’t feel a thing.

I stood up, and oh my fucking god. Blood all over my attire, fuck!

“Clean this up, and if you all fucked up cleaning this corpse, you all will ended up dead like him.” I snapped and they started moving.

Snapping my finger and one of my men came to me, “Report.” I spoke, he has a mullet cut and ash blonde hair, his tone flat as he speaks, he tells me her full name first and I smiled wickedly.

A beautiful name equals to a beautiful lady.

“She just recently graduated college and with her and her friends family support, they put up a café. She also has two siblings, she’s the middle child.” He reported, his tone loud and clear. I gave him a nod as he handed a file to me, I flip and turn pages full of her personal background.

Her birthday, her hobbies, favorite colors, pets, names of family members, her exes, what degree she graduated, who are her enemies, and more. A picture of her when she’s a child captured my attention, my fingers glide to it as if I were caressing a little girl that grown to be a wonderful and carefree woman.

Too bad she wouldn’t be carefree when she discover who I am.

Hacking one of her cameras are too easy, her surveillance in the café and her own home. She lives in a butt-fuck nowhere where forest surrounds her house. In her papers, it said that she has deep love for nature and how the smell of the leaves brings comfort to her.

Naughty girl, doesn’t she know that many people had gone missing because of houses like this? Tortured, raped, harassed, and more. Tsk, tsk, luckily she’ll have my protection every now and then. I don’t want someone lying their hands on my girl, no one.

There she is, lying on her bed with phone in hand—she doesn’t know that I’m watching her. Why did she install a camera in her bedroom? I laugh on how oblivious she is, hackers can easily hack her cameras then they either can sell her or their footage on the dark web.

I see her, in only in her thongs and fitted shirt, she walks around almost naked in her own home—well, she is surrounded by the green trees, no one can see her—she thought she is free exposing herself in just thongs.

My eyes lingers on the screen, I could feel my cock twitch and throb under the fabric of my pants. How it begs to be buried deep in her pussy, how much I want to penetrate her—to fuck her senseless.

Lost in wild thoughts, a voice came into my small earpiece, “Sir?” it called, I turn away from my computer screen, lean back and light up a cigar.

“speak.”

“I have reports on the missing children, and a leaked video.” He spoke, my attention snatched and my body stiffen, “leaked video?” I repeated and he confirms.

“These fuckers are sick in the head, even targeting helpless women aren’t enough.” I curse under my breath, my blood boils knowing that they even target little kids.

Sick wild motherfuckers.

“There is also an update for sir Niro, would you like me to send it to you?” he asked, I sigh and clenched the light up cigarette in my hand. It burns but it didn’t hurt I have my gloves on.

I nod and turn back to my computer screen, I nodded and have my mind relax when I see her lovely face in the screen, checking the surveillance.

I should probably keep my distance… for now.

Link:

Chapter 4: THE SUN

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 4.8k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features. 

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek. 

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly. 

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter. 

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.” 

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own. 

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that? 

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away. 

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set. 

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive. 

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?” 

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure. 

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you. 

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him. 

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock. 

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand. 

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly. 

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night. 

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet. 

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle. 

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.” 

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond. 

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’. 

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it. 

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand. 

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies. 

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape. 

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be. 

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought? 

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you. 

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking. 

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn. 

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been. 

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying. 

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly. 

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–” 

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached. 

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off. 

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes. 

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red. 

What had you done? 

[lonelylonelyghost]

Re-watch of The Spirealm. Episode 37

Wu Qi, the bestest bff ever. Everyone needs some Wu Qi in their lives! Wu Qi needs some Wu Qi in his life

"Even you want me to send Ruan Nanzhu to his death?"

"Lingling, you have to figure it out. If you don't enter the Door, he'll die. But if you go, he might survive.

It's obvious. The game can't be fixed without Ruan Nanzhu. He must go, no matter what, even if he is doomed. But if you go, with your strength, you two might have a chance to come back. You can make a choice between all the players and him. But he has no choice. He has to sacrifice himself to save others."

"I understand why I was given up and why he hid the truth from me, but I just don't want to accept it. I feel like I'm a fool who can only accept the consequences and understand him."

So what are you afraid of? Losing Ruan Nanzhu? Let me tell you. I'm not afraid of losing you. Because I know that it's the beginning for you to be yourself. That's the point of being your friend, isn't it? I'm going to lose you at the end of this road, I'll still take this farewell trip as a journey. I can accompany you on your last journey, just like what you can do for Ruan Nanzhu. It's a friend's duty, right?"

"I... I'm not sure if I can make it."

"You can. You can do it. Haven't you always wanted to use your game designer skills to change the world? This is the right time. You're saving the world, Lin Qiushi."

I had to take frequent breaks during these last few episodes, to watch those multi-hour long youtube videos talking about terrible straight romance books, because this shit is literally breaking me.

On a brighter note, I love that Yan Balang's situation is becoming worse for him, reflected by how his surroundings become shabbier and shabbier.

He started from owning a whole building to him ending up in a shitty crowded apartment, with debt collectors banging on his door. The interesting thing about him is that he's extremely intelligent and cunning (as we've seen in the 10th Door), but his hubris and greed destroyed everything that he has built before.

He deserves this misery and no glory

🖕

And Xia Jie being in love with that loser. Appropriate punishment, but honestly pretty sad. I might feel bad, but I don't actually

🖕

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

They managed to make everyone here despicable to such an impressive degree

"I'm leaving."

"I have no choice. I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Zaozao and Qianli. But I have enough time to say goodbye to you. I don't want to miss it. So I'll say goodbye to you ahead of time. No matter what, I won't forget you."

😖😖😖😖

Here's Johnny!

Art that kills

Nooo, our favourite fluffy gangster is back!!!

🥹🥹🥹🥹

"Be careful. Not everyone you meet at night is a friend. They could be monsters. Destroy the game. Good luck."

😭😭😭😭

YEY!! I will cheer for his death every time I see it

My girl!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹

And her stricken face when Nanzhu and Qiushi told her that they couldn't stay for long 😭

But the last we see her, she's still smiling

I hate this show

"This is the place where we first met!"

"Welcome to the world of the Doors."

Bondage-Don't-Stop-Murdering

Our kind gays bring all the coolest Door Gods to the yard!

And I like how all three of them are a different type of menacing. Zuozi is a cute girl straight up from a Japanese horror movie, Lady in the Rain is a refined gothic beauty, while Xiao Jiu behaves in this not-exactly-human way (the way she stares here is uncanny), because she's half-beast (I think???). I would both kill and die for them all

Our best boyyyy 🥹🥹🥹🥹

God, what an absolutely incredible thing they did aaaaaa

Sitcom. 2000 episodes. Just them hanging around, discussing home remedies, new fluffy tights, and going to each other's Doors for some hairstyle and fashion advice, killing bad NPCs in the meantime.

I never knew I needed this in my life. I want it. Now.

PLEEEASE🙏🙏🙏🙏

And the way Xiao Jiu chokes on her own hair like a cat lmao

Also her hands are AWESOME

[mybelovednick]

Crimson and Clover, Honey (Chapter 2)

Main Page

Previously

Nick Sturniolo x Male!character

Summary: Nick Sturniolo is a Bookstore owner in a small town in Northern Italy. Vayu Arora is an elementary school teacher who is a frequent customer at Nick's Store. Both of them meet and they are suppose to fall in love like faith intended. But what happens when one of them is unable to let go of their past selves?

Nick x male!character Angst Fluff/comfort Hurt/comfort

TW: Too corny ig, smoking (don't do it kids. it is not cool)

******

2

“I have no news. I live quietly, I love you and I wait.”

This quote has always been a mystery to me. I wouldn’t remember where I first read it, or from whom I had heard it. But it stuck with me, forever. Yearning makes a person susceptible to the madness of love. If you yearn for something or someone, the line between love and obsession becomes blurry.

It was a lovely Friday evening. The breeze was just right as the clouds swiftly danced across the violet sky. The sun was about to set but the moon was already up. Tara invited us to her family restaurant to celebrate her grandpa’s seventy-second birthday.

Nate rode my red Vespa, with me on the back while holding onto his waist for dear life; because to him, my vehicle was a race car and the world was a Drag race. We reached Tara’s restaurant an hour late, regardless of the death race.

“You bitches were supposed to be here half an hour prior to the party and you reached in hour late. Explain, now” Tara was fuming.

“Yell at Vayu, if he had dressed up a little quicker we would be here so much earlier.”

“What? You were the one throwing a tantrum like fucking baby after seeing me wear the same coral shirt that you are wearing now! Of course I had to change into a boring black one.” I tried to defend myself.

“Not my fault I look better in coral.”

“Nathan I swear to God-“

“Okay fine, Jesus!” Tara yelled at us again. (We deserved it), “Let’s go inside and hurry up, Grandpa is waiting for you guys.”

“Awe I missed you Jeremy.” Nate cooed from behind as we entered the room and everyone cheered.

The restaurant was not a very fancy one. But it did feel like home. I’ve always loved Tara and her grandparents, Jeremy and Lizzy. Frank Sinatra was playing in the background because Jeremy loved Sinatra, “Play his songs in my funeral” he’d say every time.

Tara, Nathan and I were the only ones who were not above the age of fifty-five. We all wished Jeremy ‘Happy Birthday’ and Lizzy kissed him, to which all of us cheered like monkeys in a zoo. I loved watching people smile. I loved watching people enjoy their time. Tara was in charge of the food and overall party. I was on tea duty, i.e. ensuring that every single person had their tea cups filled up to the brim. It wasn’t a difficult task considering there were barely over twenty people in the party. Yes, tea in Italy is a bizarre concept but apparently Lizzy can’t stand the smell of coffee and ever since she visited Darjeeling with her husband, she has been addicted to this beverage.

Nathan? Well he was busy impressing Lizzy’s friends. Those sixty-year old ladies loved him for some reason. “Oh you look ravishing today, Demi. And you too! Rebecca, that hair is flawless, Jim is a lucky guy.”  Who am I kidding? Everyone loved Nate.

I was simply observing them, holding the warm tea kettle close to my chest; almost zoning out in the process.

Perhaps this is what love is after all; watching people you love fall in love with other people you love.

Being in love on the other hand, will always be strange, no matter how many times you’ve experienced it in your life. It is like falling in love with the moon. It looks beautiful from afar and even more tempting in theory. But no matter how many songs or poems you write about it, it will remain absurd in practicality to be in love with the moon. And you feel like the ocean, reflecting the image of your beloved moon in your turbulent waves just to get a glimpse of it. Even during the most intense storms in your life, you strive to keep your water as still as possible to catch your beloved in the reflection. It is the madness, and obsession that we humans love to bask in. This madness is love; and this love is strange.

“Yoohoo! Vayu! Tea boy, fill this up please.” Lizzy called for me raising her cup. I quickly nodded and rushed towards her. But as I was about to pour her up, she held me by my wrist and sat me down beside her. She was one strong woman for someone claiming to be suffering from arthritis.

“So, who’s the boy?” Lizzy asked in a sing-song tone.

“What? Tara told you?” I panicked.

“Oh dear, no. I just noticed that you seemed pretty distracted there and you have a glow to your face.” Lizzy said and I had to smile, how could I not? “See? You are so giggly and smiley like that. You should smile more often, you look even more handsome.” Lizzy winked.

“Well, I’d have to be a psychopath to be able to resist smiling when you say stuff like that.” I knew my face lit up like a Christmas tree at that point.

“Well, I mean it baby boy.” She held my hand carefully, “Now tell me about this man.”

I raised my eyebrow when she scooted herself closer to pay attention. She was determined to get me married to a nice man because…Honestly? I don’t know.

“Well he works at the bookstore. The one near the Marylyn street.”

“Oh I go there sometimes, I think. Is it the Libreria del Sentiero ?”

“Yes! That’s the one! Wait, do you know the guy who works there?”

“I think I have met that gentleman quite often. He comes here to get a cup of black coffee and abrownie. He is such a sweet man, and he sure does love my brownies.”

“No one could ever not like your brownies, Lizzy.” I smiled at her and she smiled back, “So, uhm… is he here often?”

I could feel her grin growing on her face. “Yes, Nick does come here on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Nick.

Short for Nicolas, maybe. It does suit him. I remembered thinking that immediately.

Just then Lizzy’s eyes lit up. “Oh goodness, Look at that! He is standing right there, near his motorbike just along the parking. This is a sign! Vayu. Go now!” She was practically jumping in her seat while shoving my shoulders to push me out of the chair.

“But the party-“

“Fuck this party.”

Goddamn, this old lady was not playing.

She touched my cheek and kissed it quickly, “Look, V. You deserve to be happy, it is not a crime. Stop being so kind to the world and so harsh to yourself. Love doesn’t show up at your doorstep, you know? You need to chase it. Even if it doesn’t work out, you don’t get stuck in a world of what ifs. Nick is a good man. He is worth taking a chance.”

I hugged her and bid her goodbye. “Thank you.” I whispered mostly to myself. I made an excuse to get out of the party and pushed the door open.

He was standing a few meters away. I felt like I was in a romcom movie. Maybe it was because of the stars in the sky or the warm fairy lights right outside the restaurant window. Or it could be because I was willing to take a chance again.

Nick was wearing a bright red vest and a black leather jacket with black jeans. His shades were tucked on top of his messy blonde hair. And he had a pack of Marlboro in his hand. I walked towards him, still unsure of my footsteps.

God, he is beautiful.

“Need some help with the lighter?” I tried to be casual.

“Yeah, sure.”

He was so nonchalant that it was almost infuriating. He handed me his green lighter and I helped him light up his cigarette.

I watched him take a deep drag out of that cigarette. He closed his eyes and let out the smoke through his mouth and nose. He was leaning against his bike with his arms crossed. He watched the cigarette getting eaten up by the reddish-orange flame, firmly placed between his fingers.

Nick quickly bit into his own cigarette lightly with his lips and held the pack of Marlboro towards me while raising his eyebrows, gesturing if I needed one too.

“I am good, thank you.” I instantly replied.

He rolled his eyes.

Cocky bastard.

A few moments passed. It was really awkward too. I felt like pushing myself off a cliff. But I noticed a few things; he was just a few centimetres shorter than I was. However, nobody could deny that he was built. I actually felt like a twig beside him.

“Vayu, right?”

I thought I was going to combust with joy. “You remember me?”

“Of course I do. Who else would buy one of Shakespeare’s best classics with a fucking Porn magazine?”

If it were someone else, I would have knocked their teeth out (breaking my knuckles in the process.). But I saw a beautiful smile starting form in his face. He was really proud of what he said.

And I was glad I met him once again.

"You should smile more often." I blurted out. Nick looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. But soon his expressions relaxed a bit.

"Then make me." he said

*******

Next Chapter

A/N: I promise there will be more nick in the upcoming chapters

p.S. I love Lizzy

Tag: @ohmtoff @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @nicksfavhoe @heyitsmemia @neo404 @matty-bear2 @thenickgirl @loud-sturniolos @maria4mari @solarsturniolo @darl1ngdr1sta @tkhzs @soursturniolo @certifiednatelover

[tg-pilled]

Tokyo Ghoul Characters as MCR songs

This is for shits and giggles, please don't take this too serious. I originally wanted to cover Every album and compare Every song to a character from each album and then realized nobody cares that deeply so here is a brief version!

Kaneki - Famous Last Words - "Can you see my eyes are shining bright? 'Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak. Is it hard understanding, I'm incomplete?"

Haise - AMBULANCE - "And we will wear our masks again, out after dark, 'cause we are up for everything it takes, and we are not the same."

Ginshi - Cancer - "But counting down the days to go, it just ain't living, and I just hope you know that if you say goodbye today, I'd ask you to be true because the hardest part of this is leaving you."

Urie - Sleep - "Don't you breathe for me, undeserving of your sympathy, 'cause there ain't no way I'm sorry for what I did."

Mutsuki - DESTROYA - "With duct-tape scars on my honey, they don't like who you are. You won't like where we'll go, brother, protect me now."

Saiko - The Kids from Yesterday - "All the cameras watch the accidents and stars you hate. They only care if you can bleed. Does the television make you feel the pills you ate or every person that you need to be?"

Arima - The Foundations of Decay - "Let the flesh submit itself to gravity. Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame. Let our blood in vain, you find God in pain. Now if your convictions were a passing phase, may your ashes feed the river in the morning rays. And as the vermin crawls we lay in the foundations of decay."

Hide - The World is Ugly - "These are their hearts, but their hearts don't beat like ours. They burn 'cause they are all afraid. But mine beats twice as hard, 'cause the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me."

Touka - The Ghost of You - "At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies, she dies. At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home."

Hinami - Cemetary Drive - "If you want, I'll keep on crying. Did you get what you deserve? Is this what you always want me for? I miss you."

Ayato - Thank You for the Venom - "I keep a gun in the book you gave me. Hallelujah, lock and load. Black is the kiss, the touch of the serpent son."

Nishiki - The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You - "Gaze into her killing jar, I'd sometimes stare for hours. She even poked the holes so I can breathe."

Eto - Give 'Em Hell Kid - "Some might say we are made from the sharpest things you say. We are young and we don't care. Your dreams and your hopeless hair. We never wanted it to be this way for all our lives."

Naki - The Only Hope for Me is You - "Because you're the only hope for me. And if we can't find where we belong, we'll have to make it on our own."

Takizawa - House of Wolves - "Tell me I'm an angel, take this to my grave. Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray."

Tsukiyama - Romance - There's no lyrics but the vibe is *chefs kiss*

Uta - I Never Told You What I Do for a Living - "It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame, it's for the bodies I claim and lose. Only go so far 'til you bury them so deep and down we go, down."

Renji - Headfirst for Halos - "And as the fragments of my skull begin to fall, fall on your tongue like pixie dust, just think happy thoughts, and we'll fly home."

Juuzou - Mama - "Well, mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue. You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son."

Rize - Our Lady of Sorrows - "We could be perfect lovers one last night, and die like star-crossed lovers when we fight."

Akira - Skylines and Turnstiles - "We walk in single file. We light our rails and punch our time. Ride escalators colder than a cell. The broken city-sky, like butane on my skin, stolen from my eyes."

Amon - Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back - "For all of us who've seen the light, salute the dead and lead the fight. Who gives a damn if we lose the war? Let the walls come down, let the engines roar."

Feel free to add your own interpretations but these are songs that I think relate to the characters! :)

[cherievol6]

California Dreamin'

summer nights as an up and coming seventies rock band

word count: <1000

warnings: swearing, moustaches

.

"Marco, if you don't stop messing with that needle-"

"I'm not!" Marco screeches in defence from behind his new porn stache, lifting his hands up in a surrendered position when Harry saunters over to his new record player and stands in front of it protectively. You giggle quietly at their behaviour, squinting as you watch the boys squabble from the patio doors. Harry had saved money from his first released record to buy this Technics player, so he was feeling precious about it. He'd only really let you fiddle with it, but you always saw him monitoring you over your shoulder.

Melanie stalks down the rich oak stairs in her new bootleg jeans she found in a small charity shop back home, her worn down guitar in hand and a notebook. She wrote the best songs on her oldest guitar. You'd said to Harry a few years ago that you believed everyone's instrument is supernaturally bound to them in some way. You were both pretty high at time.

"God, Melanie. I miss my jeans so much." You whine.

"As if you're not looking unbelievably sexy on that garden chair over there. Marco, here, come and get the gorgeous pregnant woman a drink, would you?" Melanie replies, leaning to kiss you on the cheek and propping her things on the cream sofas. She snatches her scarf from over the lamp in the living room and ties it around her neck.

"Is this gorgeous pregnant woman in the room with us?- Ow! I'm messing, you miserable old sod." Marco sends you a wink but is quickly reprimanded by a swat to the head by your man, who was intensely inspecting his Bowie vinyl for scratches. You quietly giggle, knowing yours and Marco's relationship was playful and unserious, though you really liked Harry's protectiveness.

"Talk bad about my missus again and I'll rip that monstrosity clean off." Harry points to Marco's moustache before patting his cheek heavily, looking over at you with a glint in his eye. You grin, pretending that didn't make you slightly turned on. You were pregnant, it was hard not to be turned on by anything Harry did. Especially when he was wearing his maroon corduroy trousers and just a tank top, cigarette hanging from his lips and a glass of whiskey in the other. Your hand rests over your bump covered by an airy white summer dress, and Harry looks at you from across the room like you hung every star in the sky.

Marco appears by your side with a cloudy lemonade and you smile, grabbing his hand in a thank you and shifting on your garden chair to feel more comfortable. Harry had rented this place for your stay in Malibu whilst you, him and the rest of the band wrote their new album, but sometimes you secretly wished you could live here forever. Large veranda doors that open wide to let the setting sun in, beautiful oak walls and avocado coloured marble on the kitchen floor. You could sit and write every day here.

"What's on your mind, my pretty lady?" Harry's deep voice is smooth like treacle in your ears. You glance over to where he's situating himself on the other outdoor chair, stubbing out his cigarette now that he's next to you. Opal coloured sunglasses cover his eyes, and his hair remains slightly more grown out than usual. He always looked like this when he wasn't doing shows, kind of rugged, rockstar-ish. You loved it.

"I love this house, so much." You breathe. He grasps your hand and kisses it softly, holding it there as he sighs contentedly, glancing over at the skyline and the sun creeping behind. An orange glow sets over the small house and you smile, observing Marco and Melanie trying to light the old barbecue that must have been at least ten years old. Harry's hand creeps up your leg under your white summer dress, slipping it over his knee so he can run his hand up and down - brushing over your ankles every so often.

"How the fuck do you where these when you're pregnant?" He fiddles with the strap of your brown wedged heels.

"Just 'cause I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't still dress nicely. You know, I found a column in the paper back home by this young'un called Sophie Clark. She writes little fashion pieces at college. She's dedicated a section to me every week. 'The stylish lead starlet of The Saffron'. I need to keep up appearances." You muse, fiddling with the large thin hoop earrings that Harry had gifted you just the day before.

He leans down and kisses your shin, before travelling his hand to your bump unconsciously. "I know. I read it sometimes when you're away at your writing sessions back home and I can't see you. Need to know what you're wearing so I can picture taking it off you--"

You give him a knowing look, and he closes his mouth immediately with a mischievous look. His hand moves in gentle circles over your stomach and you revel in the feeling. It quite literally could not get any better than this. A warm, summer evening in California, the smell of incense coming from inside the house. The hum of The Mamas and Papas travelling from the turntable speakers.

"We're gonna write some good shit here, guys." You inhale. Harry hums and reaches for his notepad on the ground next to the chair, flipping it open and writing something down pensively.

"You found a muse already?" You try and peek and he laughs, slamming the leather bound book shut and grabbing your hand to plant a kiss.

"Just feeling inspired. Entranced. In love." He murmurs and closes his eyes, "I've got all of my muse right here in my hand."

.

heyyyyy!!! so i've kind of created a new lil universe after watching daisy jones and falling into a hole of 70s obsessions again. lmk if you'd like more little blurbs from these characters. I introduce you to The Saffron. my own little seventies rock band.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 9

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700​​​​​​​​​​​ @jinlizz-dragondrama​​​​​​​​​​​ @firelightinferno​​​​​​​​​​​ @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl​​​​​​​​​​​ @achromaticerebus​​​​​​​​​​ @sleepyamygdala​​​​​​​​​​   @smalltownbigheart​​​​​​​​​ @qmabailor​​​​​​​​ 

The footsteps came closer with surprising speed, too much for you to jump out of the way and hide as you might have done so as not to come face to face with any strangers. It did not sound like Thranduil and, besides, it seemed far too late in the day for him to pay you a visit anyway - this was not the normal time that you would usually come to this clearing. 

Nerves took hold of you as the stranger suddenly stepped past the boundary from through the trees, falling to the ground with a soft sob as they did so.

Your eyes went wide as you could only stare dumbly for a few long moments until it finally hit you that they were crying and you rushed forward, crouching down beside the newcomer, though unsure what you could do to assist.

“Excuse me? I... what’s wrong, are you alright?” You managed, though received no immediate response. “Do you need help?”

The woman - you could see now this was a female - lifted her head, her long dark hair sticking to the tears running down her cheeks. She was beautiful even in severe distress, that much was immediately plain though you weren’t sure why you would even take notice.

“I... they were chasing me, I... I cannot...” She shook her head as she trailed off, lifting a hand and covering her face once more.

Standing, you quickly rushed past her and peered through the trees, anxiety spiking as you grappled with the fact that danger could be coming directly for you... and you had no way of protecting yourself, let alone this poor woman.

You saw nothing.

Heard nothing.

Turning back, you stepped cautiously back towards the woman and crouched once more, hesitating briefly before you laid what you hoped was a reassuring hand upon her arm. “There is nobody there.” You told her gently. “You must have outrun them. You are safe... you have nothing to fear.”

Tear-filled eyes lifted to meet your own and the woman smiled. You returned it and gave her a little nod. “Where are you from?” You asked after a moment. “Are you from the Elvenking’s Halls?”

The female shook her head. “One... one of the settlements, my lady.” She murmured, straightening and lifting her hands to wipe away the remains of her tears.

“Oh, please, call me Lothíriel.” You said quickly, not one for such formalities.

“Pretty name for a pretty face.” The woman told you with a smile and you ducked your head, a soft breath of a chuckle escaping your lips. You were still not used to all types of social contact and compliments were right at the top of the awkwardness list - you had only just gotten comfortable with Thranduil!

Gods, if Radagast could see you now!

You briefly wondered if he was home but the woman speaking again recaptured your attention.

“They call me Luithien.” Enchantress.

You didn’t take note of the way she said they call me instead of my name is - as you offered her another smile. “Your name is pretty too.” A beat passed. “Are you going to be alright? Do you need... somebody to walk home with you?” You did not know how far this settlement might be and you weren’t truly comfortable offering but you felt you couldn’t really leave her alone if she had just been chased. Could you? It did not feel right.

“Anarórë!” A loud voice from beyond the other side of the clearing suddenly called out, causing you to jump and turn your head in the direction of the sound. Radagast! He must have returned home and found you missing.

Upon turning your head once more, you realised the woman was suddenly standing and appeared to be much farther away from you than she had been before Radagast had called out your true name - something he only ever seemed to do when you paid no heed to his first calls. Not intentionally, of course! You were not so rude! You were just so easily distracted.

“Oh!” You stood quickly and took a step towards her. “That is only my uncle! You do not need to be afraid.”

She shook her head quickly. “Oh, no. I’m not. I really should be going.”

“Are you sure you would go alone?” You asked. “My uncle could take you, you would be perfectly safe with him.”

“No!” The response was sharper and quicker than you had expected but then, as you flinched a little, she seemed to soften again rapidly and smiled. “I just mean, I can manage by myself. Thank you. You have been very kind.”

From behind you came the sound of large rabbit feet bringing Radagast closer. You turned again as he practically exploded into the clearing. When you glanced back over your shoulder, the woman was gone.

“How many times!” Radagast cried, coming to a halt beside you with an exasperated look in his eyes.

“Sorry...” You mumbled, stretching out a hand and giving one of the rabbits a big scratch behind its ear.

The wizard sighed and shook his head, but he was already relaxing at finding you safe. However, a moment later, his face changed and he seemed to tense up again as he turned to survey the clearing, his gaze moving very slowly.

“Was somebody here?” He asked, turning his face to you again, his eyes full of something you could not decipher.

“No.” You weren’t sure why you lied to him this time. Thranduil was different, you wanted to keep that for yourself somehow, but... a random woman suddenly finding herself here out of the blue didn’t seem like something you necessarily needed to keep from him. Still, it was too late to take it back and you quickly moved to get onto the sled behind him.

Radagast made a humming sound but didn’t say anything else. He looked around the clearing while you got yourself safely on the sled.

He did not believe you because, as he stood there, he could sense it. Feel it. The magic. The presence of the Enchantress. A shiver went through him. She had found you. Depending upon whether or not she had seen or heard him coming, she would easily be able to connect him to you, which would bring nothing good. Nothing at all.

Radagast set the rabbits off for home, his mind working on overdrive. If the Enchantress had found you, then the worst was truly happening. It would only be a matter of time. She was wicked but she was not entirely stupid... and you did look so very much like your mother.

No, this was it. He could not wait for Gandalf and he could not hide you away in his cottage any longer. Radagast had to tell Thranduil.

As the rabbits whisked the two of you back through the forest, towards your little cottage, evil eyes watched from high above in the thick branches of a tree.

The Enchantress smirked to herself as you disappeared from view. She had come here curious about the elleth that she had seen Thranduil dancing with when she had been spying... now her interest had peaked tenfold.

This strange little elf had a connection to both the Elvenking and the Wizard? That was far too much of a coincidence to ignore, even if Radagast had not used the very name of the little baby girl she had cursed many thousands of years ago.

Descending the tree, the Enchantress made herself scarce in case Radagast returned. She made her way to a newly built fortress at Amon Lanc, where she had been hiding for the duration of her stay, and there she started to form her plan.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Broken Vows.

gif credit

pairing: kuchiki byakuya x wife!reader

rating: angst (they're at war) fluff.

setting: canonverse.

word count: 1k.

Silence, tension, and anxiousness has been reigning the Seireitei since Lieutenant Sasakibe Chōjirō's demise. Death reeked of the Soul Society, and its shadows are looming over the the three worlds.

In the grandeur yard of the Kuchiki Manor, you sit at the rim of the large pond of Koi fish, your feet are faintly in the water where the elegant fish are nibbling on your toes. Their slight kisses tickle your skin, giving you an odd feeling of comfort. For a moment, you wish to jump into the water and play with them, just you and some Koi fish under the silver glimmer of the moon. A silly giggle escapes your mouth when you imagine what your husband's reaction might be, to see his reverend lady wife messing around with his precious Koi fish. The Kuchikis take pride in breeding such rare species of fish, and Byakuya was greatly annoyed when their numbers decreased noticeably for unknown reasons. The ghost of Kuchiki Manor did it. That was the rumour among the staff, the one you personally spreaded it to cover for a certain little pink-haired troublemaker.

You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging yourself, eyes are still watching the fish sway and swim in the water.

Heaving a sigh, you shake your head forlornly. They were good days, good memories you're going to forever cherish them, for you know, nothing will be the same soon. You already miss the days when your biggest problem —and delight— was facing your husband's rage. The only one who could bring the best and the worst of him, his beloved wife.

You sigh again; when was the last time you saw him?

Given the current situation, every captain is to stay alert at their squad barracks, readying their forces to any surprise assault.

The Sixth Squad quarters aren't far from here. It wouldn't be much of a bother to pay your old home a visit, it crossed your mind plenty of times to go there. But no, you didn't, because your husband had practically forbidden you to visit the quarters after the Quincies declared the war. Idiot, you think. As though you'd listen to him. No, not anymore; you're not one of his subordinates any longer but his damn wife. It surely doesn't make you his equal, but still.

However, being married to one of the Great Noble Clans heads threw a handful of responsibilities upon your back; one of which is to stay strong, and act in his stead as the family head in his absence. And gods, you hate it. Teasing and defying the elders is one thing, and sitting at the same table with them and hear them nattering absolute nonsense is another whole thing. You wonder how Byakuya does it easily.

“Watching the Koi swim is more interesting than sitting with the elders, I suppose.”

A wide smile creeps into your mouth as you hear your husband's poised voice.

“Byakuya!” You stand on your feet and stroll down to him. “Missed you so much, baby!”

You don't miss the way he still cringes at the endearment you called him with. His ears haven't accustomed to it yet, a modern word from the World of the Living.

“I've missed you too, my love.” He says quietly, with that baritone voice of his, taking your hands in his. He squeezes your hands gently, brushing his thumbs to your skin.

You notice that he's still in his haori and full attire, you furrow your eyebrows. “Is everything alright back there, Byakuya?”

“Yes.” He answers, “Everything is conducting well, darling, worry not.”

“Any sign of the enemy?” You ask again.

“Not as of yet.” He says, “We do not think the enemy would stand by their words, however.”

“They could attack at any moment.” You mumble.

“Precisely.”

Gazing up at his smoky-grey eyes, you bring your hands up to his chest. “You know I still have the will to fight by your side like the old days, husband.” You say, “I can be more useful on the battlefield than behind these walls.”

Byakuya's face remains expressionless, his hands covering yours. “If you're asking me to join the troops again, the answer remains no.”

Your lips pucker up, your fists wring his fancy haori, “Then promise me you'd come back to me alive.”

Your husband falls silent.

“Swear it to me.” Your lean forward, eyes locking, “Now.”

“I'm afraid I can't.” He puts ice in his words, your eyes widen.

“Why so?” You fume.

“I've taken many vows upon myself, and I broke most of them. I cannot do it, not to you.”

He leaves you speechless, your hands let go of his fancy haori. You tear your face to the side for a moment before you face him again.

“Very well then,” You say stoically, your tone is peculiarly akin to his now, “Kuchiki Byakuya, my beloved husband, I forbid you from dying on the battlefield, and I bid you to come back to me alive and in one piece, and I swear, by all spirits, I shall unsheathe my zanpaktō and step into the fight if I sense you're in need of help.”

Your husband doesn't say anything. However, a very small grin slip into his pretty lips, and you give him a smile of your own.

They vanish, nevertheless, when you hear the alarm blaring throughout the Seireitei, announcing the arrival of the enemy, and you feel your heart drop to the tips of your toes.

“I must go.” Your husband states.

You rush before he shinpōes elsewher, and hug him tightly, shaky hands cupping his cheeks. “I swear it, I swear it, I swear it.” Tears pour down your cheeks, “You hear me?” Byakuya kisses your lips through your tears before his reiatsu disappears from around you.

After hours, flash-stepping among the bloodied corpses of your husband's soldiers, and in attempt to maintain your oath, you reach the spot his fading reiatsu led you to, to find yourself too late. Another broken promise; your husband is no different than the bodies surrounding him.

→ Bleach Masterlist

→ ao3

[muddyorbsblr]

a heart like yours part 4: the Romanoff intervention

Masterlist

Summary: Nat goes to see a god about a kiss and Wanda goes to see a sorcerer about unbreakable curses

Pairing: Steve x Reader; Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst; sad Loki hours [let me know if i missed anything!]

"FRIDAY, could you tell me where Loki is right now?" Natasha asked into the hallway, fully knowing that the AI was listening to everything. 

"Certainly, Agent Romanoff. Mister Laufeyson is on the roof deck with his brother at this moment. Will that be all?" 

"That will be all, FRIDAY. Thank you." 

She made her way up to the roof deck to find the gods sitting on the ground, Loki slumped over with his head between his knees, shoulders wracking violently, his brother looking somber and helpless as he held him in a loose embrace. 

Thor caught sight of Natasha first, looking up at her from his current placement, eyes brimming with tears. "Natasha, have you news on Lady Y/N's condition?" 

"Nothing new, I'm sorry. She's still asleep." 

"So she's lost to us," Loki exhaled, his voice gruff no doubt from his grieving of you. "There is no chance, no sliver of hope that perhaps she could return. This world will be devoid of her. My existence bereft of her."

"I might have an idea," Natasha told them. "The last one I have really, but it's still something." He looked up at the spy, silently pleading for her to go on. He would scour the entire realm to find whoever she thought could wake you. "You, Loki. You could wake her." 

"That's preposterous," he hissed, though without an ounce of his usual conviction whenever he  spoke. 

"You love her," she told the god. "That much is obvious, especially after today. You refused to let her go until we got here. You nearly dented Steve into the wall when we all realized he couldn't break the curse. You've protected her on every mission you've had together, at the risk of your own well-being. You think nobody notices, but we do. At least me and Wanda."

"Natasha, I know not what you talk about. Notices what?" 

"Okay so maybe it all flies over your brother's head, but trust us, we notice. It's why Steve still hates you even after two years with us. When we see her asleep in the common area and she's blanketed up in your cape. That time she got the flu and for the first and only time, you cooked? Yeah we know that was for her."

"Ohh that was for Lady—"

"Shut up, Thor," she cut him off. "The point is I know. Wanda knows. Hell even Morgan Stark knows. If you have a chance to wake her, to break this curse and get to keep her alive, why aren't you taking it?"

The next words out the dark-haired god's mouth floored her, never once thinking she'd ever feel for him. But in this moment, she did. "I'm not worthy of her."  

"What if you are?" she asked him. "What do you have to lose?" 

"Tell me this, Agent Romanoff, what if I do wake her? What happens then? What will happen when she opens her eyes and sees me and there is nothing but shock and abhorrence in her eyes? What if she sees me and wishes she would return to her cursed slumber?" 

"Did you ever think about what if she opened her eyes and she doesn't look at you with rejection? What if she sees who woke her and she's happy it was you? And regardless, wouldn't you at least take that chance if it meant she lives?" 

She saw the resolve start sinking in to him, the realization that even if you were to wake up because of him and you didn't return his love, at least you were alive. "And what if she remains asleep?" he said in a broken whisper. 

"Then you can take this time to say your goodbyes to her in private. You can spend her final days making sure that she's not alone, letting her know that she was loved." Natasha tried to maintain composure as she spoke about you as if you were already gone. "By no one more than you." 

With a final nod, he looked at the spy, once again flooring her with his response. "Thank you, Natasha." 

He stood and left her and his brother sitting on the roof deck, no doubt making his way back to you. To confess. To give you his heart. Risking it all for the sake of keeping you alive.

"Natasha, what if you're wrong? What if my brother cannot wake her?" 

"I think he will. But if I'm wrong? Then at least he'll be able to tell her while a part of her is still around to hear him. Honestly, though, I really think he's our best shot. And he is worthy of her heart. Don't tell him I told you this but…I think she loves him, too."

"But she's courting our Captain--"

"There's one thing our friend Y/N and your brother have in common, Thor. They both believe they're not worthy. Even if he does wake her, they might need a little bit of encouraging from their friends and family to push them into each other's arms." 

A small smile appeared on the blond god's face. "I will aid you in these efforts, my friend. Tell me what I must do." 

"So what you're telling me, Stephen, is that this curse was only able to catch on to her in the first place, because it can be broken?" Wanda questioned the sorcerer after spending hours reading through every magical tome he had in his apartment within the Tower. 

"That's what every grimoire we've consulted so far says. Curses cannot be cast unless there is a viable way to break them. An unbreakable curse would simply drain the witch who cast it of all their power and turn them into a magical vegetable." 

"Y/N can be saved," she said, relief washing over her. "We just have to act fast."

"Yeah, find the guy who loves her with his entire heart. Like he hasn't been here the entire time, picking a fight with Rogers and fucking kneeling for her. Crying for her. Looking like he'd burn down the entire Yggdrasil just to get her to wake up."

"You know?" 

"Who doesn't? Anyone who's seen how he acts at Stark's parties knows. Always hanging around close by ready to beat some manners into the horny fuckers who try to make a grab at her. Turning down the literal supermodels who abandon all their self-respect for one night with him and then immediately going to Y/N and asking her to dance with him right after. Those weren't just plays to get women to back off him, Wanda. That was a statement. 'This woman owns me and nobody can take me from her' type, grand gesture sweeping statement."

"Idiots," she grumbled. "All this time they loved each other—"

"And the god was too chicken shit to make a move. So the soldier did."

"And now we’re here," she breathed out, her exasperation over this predicament showing through. "Idiots, the both of them."

"We have to make him try," she pleaded with the sorcerer. "For Y/N." 

"That we do. FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Doctor Strange?" the AI responded.

"Show me Laufeyson." An image projected into his room of Loki walking down a hallway. "Where's he going?"

"It appears that he's on his way to Agent Y/L/N's room in the medical wing. Earlier he was on the roof deck with Thor and Agent Romanoff." 

"Alright. Thanks, FRIDAY." He turned to face Wanda. "Looks like he's actually going to try." 

A bright smile formed on her face as she murmured, "Go, Loki." 

A/N: I'm not ending it there tonight. Chapter 5's coming in a few hours.

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @redbluekjw @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman

a heart like yours: @huntress-artemiss @hotleaf-juice @clockblobber @sititran @taro-gabi @wolfsmom1 @rmoonstoner @ladymischief11 @anonymousewrites @unlucky-number-13

[animezinglife]

ACOTAR tag game 💕

Thanks for tagging me, @crazy-ache! Honestly, after reading your responses, I'm convinced we might actually be the same person. XD

Several others actually tagged me in this too, and I'm sorry to everyone for the delay. It's been busy and I've had company.

Answer the questions below & tag whoever you want, or make it an open tag!!

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

Lucien Vanserra. Back when I had no intention of continuing the series after the first book, I joked a lot about him having to be tired from carrying all of Prythian on his back.

Who's your least favourite character?

Ianthe. I still hope Stryga used her fingers as toothpicks.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

She's probably objectively pretty.

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

I don't really feel like I know many of them enough to make the most sound decision. I think if I were living in Prythian, I would feel very at ease with Helion or Tarquin as my High Lord even if the latter is still a mere child of eighty and has his moments of naivete. He seems very honest and fair.

Helion I think would be similar, but less naive and more adept at seeing all the angles Tarquin might miss.

To be clear, I love Rhysand. I just think how I would feel about him as High Lord would probably differ depending on where I lived in the Night Court.

Favourite MINOR character?

I love Vassa. I think she has a lot of potential and is so cool. The image of her in her firebird form raining hell down on those Hybern ships was epic.

Jurian's fun, too.

Last but not least, Varian cracks me up. He probably has the most questionable taste and survival skills out of the whole lot of them and doesn't get nearly enough credit for just floating around to wherever his funky little heart desires.

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

Elucien has the potential to be my favorite and I'm already down bad for them. Of the ones who already are canon, though, Feysand.

Favourite court and why?

Of the ones we've spent time in, I'm not going to lie: I favor Spring for the way it was portrayed in the first book. Warm weather, green, gardens, pools of starlight, Tamlin playing his fiddle while people dance and celebrate, etc. It's very faerie.

That said, Autumn is the one I'm most intrigued by overall for all the usual and popular reasons. Autumn could very easily overtake spring.

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

The Celestial Court. It's more otherworldly than Night or Dawn; more heavenly full of crystals and clouds. Its on its own plane of being entirely. The Fae there are known for their close connections to their gods and the High Lord and Lady are historically considered to be demigods. They would have an otherworldly glow/light to them like Tolkien elves; be a bit more unsettling. There's a lot of mystery around them and their power. I think of a lot of white or light clothing, fair skin, and long, fair hair. Unusual eyes that look like you're gazing into the heavens.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

Elain and Lucien, obviously, but it's not time just yet. So, I'd love to see Elain making her own friends.

I'd also really like to see more of the Lucien and Eris dynamic, because we're definitely not being let in on at least a few things.

What's your unpopular opinion?

Every single ACOTAR book could be cut down about 200 pages and not lose any meaningful or relevant content. They're all entirely too bloated.

If you want a spicier take, I'm forever underwhelmed by Nesta as a character. I understand what the goal was and could still for the most part appreciate the story, but I never did get invested in her and what investment I did develop didn't last after I finished ACOSF.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

The best way to sum up many of my favorites would simply be Elain finding herself and her confidence in a potential relationship with Lucien. How it would be a healing journey, but also very much one of her coming into her element and power (and him into his, too).

I love the idea of them becoming completely uninhibited out in nature and to have this extremely deep connection that goes beyond other bonds.

If you were swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

Lucien (<- keeping @crazy-ache's answer here because I absolutely would if he'd have me)

"I want to experience all the magic. Just frolic through a field and really feel this fae magical world, see the creatures, witness the magic and spells, just be absolutely bewitched by it all." (<- keeping this answer, too, but I would add Helion's libraries to the mix).

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

I'd want to put a lot of effort into healing magic, but I'd love to be able to winnow or create water wolves. Winnowing would be ideal so I could see the world more easily and see my family whenever I wanted.

Thank you so much for the tag! Anyone who wants to do this, please feel free.

[wellthebardsdead]

Riiju-Lei: *quietly walking across the bridge into windhelm* gods I forgot how cold home is.

Kaidan: I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you’d willingly live here.

Riiju-Lei: it’s where I was raised. My parents used to own the stables. They’re buried in the hall of the dead here too. It’s home. *walks through the gates immediately seeing another dark elf being harassed* even if it doesn’t feel like it… *walks over wedging himself in front of the woman* What did I tell you about harassing us Rolff…

Rolff: oh look if it isn’t the knife eared lizard boy~ what are you going to do about it outsider? Hit me?

Riiju-Lei: I’ve lived in this city longer than you you your fathers before you. I’ve seen it fall into ruin under ulfrics rule. And I’ve watched countless of my friends die for his senseless war. So I’m warning you now. *folds his arms, his hair floating up like fire as arcane energy crackles through his skin making his birthmark glow like hot metal* Leave us alone. Because your brother won’t be able to save you from me…

Rolff: … *backs off a little*

Riiju-Lei: *glares at him before turning his back to address suvaris*

Rolff: *suddenly goes to hit him while he’s not looking*

Kaidan: *socks him hard across the face knocking him out cold, the claws on his gauntlets ripping half of his skin clean off* Oi! You want to fight like a coward then you deal with me! *shakes his hand cracking his knuckles* Stone fist more like stone head- *glares at Angernor* You want a focking round too ay?

Angernor: *jumps and quickly runs off with his tail in between his legs*

Suvaris: well then. Thank you for that, it’s good to see you again Leilei. We all thought we’d never see you again given your house burned down.

Riiju-Lei: …what?…

Taliesin: *hurries through the gates after getting the horses boarded for the night* right I’m h- *looks at the bloodied and possibly dead nord on the ground and the look of shock on Riiju’s face* …what did I miss?

*a few minutes later*

Riiju-Lei: *staring at a burned wreckage that used to be his home, now blanketed in snow and the remaining brickwork covered in slurs written in soot* …my house… it’s… gone…

Taliesin: I wonder if anyone saw what caused it…

Kaidan: *looking at the slurs* Or who caused it- LeiLei be careful-

Riiju-Lei: *climbing through the wreckage, seemingly emotionless as always as he moves boards and snow out of the way, hoping, praying, then sighing with relief as he finds a small chest*

Taliesin: Leilei?…

Riiju-Lei: *opens the chest up and pulls out an old piece of fabric before draping it around his shoulders like a scarf* I’m okay… *climbs out of the wreckage and sighs*

Kaidan: what’s that? *gestures to the scarf*

Riiju-Lei: the sling my mother brought me to skyrim in… it’s all… all I have left of my parents now…

Taliesin: *gently pats his back* at least… something important survived…

Riiju-Lei: *sighs and nods* I suppose we should go see if the corner club has any rooms… *walks down the street and pauses as a little girl runs out in front of him*

Sofie: mr? Would you like to buy some flowers for your pretty lady?

Riiju-Lei: pretty lady?

Kaidan: *snickers and nudges Taliesin* I think she’s talking about you~

Taliesin: …Well she got the pretty part right at least~

Kaidan: Pffft, if your ego got any higher we’d need a permit to grow it.

Riiju-Lei: *suddenly picks Sofie up putting her on his back* You two are going to have to put your bickering on hold until we get back to whiterun. I have a daughter now, Sofie.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Empty Nested

Rowaelin Month day 9: Single Parent AU

Long story short, life happened and I won’t be able to keep up with my original plan of posting for every prompt. However, I managed to finish this WIP and here it is! It’s 11:48 pm where I live so I guess it still counts as day 9 lol I hope you like it!!

Warnings: language, NSFW

Word count: 3,1k

Edit: This fic ended up becoming a whole thing so here’s a masterlist

~~~~~占~~~ _/||\°/||\。.:*・

To-do list

Read gardening book

Improve garden

Master’s degree pros and cons list

Find out which liquor bottles Maisie drank in secret and watered down

Enroll in Old Language classes

Rowan sighed. He was sat on his porch, trying to figure out what to do on the third weekend without Maisie driving him insane. His life’s purpose revolved around his only daughter for the last eighteen years, and now that he just dropped her off at college, he felt lonely. Mostly bored.

Coming home to an empty house felt hollow enough, the real tears about her moving only came when he arrived and saw her bike sitting on the porch. Three weeks later, he hadn’t moved it. Instead, he was gazing at it as he scrambled his mind for something to do.

Some movement on the street caught his attention, and Rowan noticed two men in an uniform carrying a massive piano inside Aelin Galathynius’s house. As tamed as he was, it was impossible not to notice how beautifully her golden hair shined below the midday sun, or how little that pale blue dress did to hide the curves underneath. Something like that would drive Rowan insane when she first moved into their street, but now he was a lot more used to his drop dead gorgeous neighbor. When Rowan realized what he was doing, he focused his gaze on her garden’s Kingsflower and swallowed. That woman raised Maisie’s best friend. She deserved more than a creepy old neighbor.

“Need any help?” Rowan asked as he got closer to the home.

Aelin turned around and smiled brightly at him. “Not really, but come on in!” And gestured for him to come inside. Good. If she gave Rowan a task to do, it meant he had one less thing to add to his to-do list.

He and Aelin were in that weird parent limbo where they’re not exactly friends, but they’ve been chatting here and there for years because their kids are close.

“How’s Finn?” he asked after the piano matter was settled, while she made coffee for them.

She sighed affectionately. “He’s in love with college and everything is amazing, you know how the freshman year goes. It’s so cute. And he’s there with his girlfriend, so he’s loving it.”

“Yeah, same for Maisie.” He chuckled. “Except for the relationship part. She’s merciless with her girls.”

“And you have no idea where she got that from?” Aelin teased.

His eyes went wide. “I really don’t. I spent years telling her to avoid the ladies’ man type, but apparently she misunderstood the lessons and ended up becoming one.”

Aelin cackled, but sighed again after. “God, I really miss those troublemakers.”

He sent her a watery smile. “Me too. I’ve been trying to get busy, but apparently that’s not a problem for you?”

“I used to play it everyday before Finn was born.”

Rowan looked between Aelin and her new piano, astounded. “You knew how to play that beast at sixteen?”

Grinning, she nodded. “I even used to teach it for extra money before having a full-time job.”

He just blinked, amazed. “Sometimes I forget not every teenager is a dipshit. I have absolutely no useful hobbies to revive.” In fact, Maisie was who made him learn real responsibility. Caring for a newborn in college without the mother was no joke.

“I’m sure this isn’t the case.”

With a raised eyebrow, he challenged, “Unless you call partying a hobby.”

Aelin went still, her eyes wide. “I have a boat party later today, you should come!”

“What?” he screeched.

“Come on!”

Rowan blinked, thinking hard on it. “I’m not sure.” He never left the house on the weekends because, as independent as Maisie tried to be, she always got in trouble at parties, so Rowan liked to be available for her.

“It’s my friend’s birthday, it’ll be fun.”

Well, as alarming as the thought was, Rowan couldn’t be physically there for his little girl. And he didn’t need to think about the to-do list if he wasn’t at home. Reluctantly, he finally answered, “Okay. You sure your friend won’t mind?”

Aelin grinned wickedly. “When you meet Fenrys, you’ll be sure of it.”

~~

Rowan endured two chapters of his new gardening book before readying himself early for the party. When it was finally time, to reach Aelin, he crossed the street to find his neighbor wearing gentle waves on her hair and a pleased grin.

She was wearing a golden, metallic dress that was... flattering. Maybe way too flattering. It had a V-neckline that made Rowan’s eyes go too south before he snapped it back up, flushing, to meet Aelin’s smirking face.

Rowan’s mouth opened and closed while he scrambled his mind for something respectful to say that would do her justice, but his flustered face seemed to be response enough by her ever-growing grin.

“We should catch an uber. I’m making us drink tonight,” she said, putting him out of his misery.

Rowan cleared his throat and nodded. “Let me.” He gave his phone to Aelin so she could type which part of the Florine River they were supposed to be at, and the ride ended up being pretty uneventful.

When Aelin invited him, Rowan was expecting a small get together at the marina. However, he found himself inside a tri-deck yatch with a DJ and a infinity pool.

Fenrys, just like Aelin predicted, didn’t mind his unadvised presence in the slightest. There was absolutely no way a singular, regular person knew all this people, but Aelin didn’t seem surprised by how packed the place was. She just greeted everyone she knew and introduced Rowan as they beelined to the nearest bar. In the meanwhile, he tried not to notice the amused glances Aelin’s friends darted between the two of them.

The bar was a little crowded, but Rowan managed to get some whiskey while she intently watched the preparation of her dessert cocktail.

“We should hit the dancefloor.”

Rowan’s body froze. “I can’t dance.”

Grinning, she answered, “Good. I can’t either.”

For the first time in years, Rowan was led to a small crowd under strobe lights. Aelin looked like a living flame with that dress, but she didn’t seem to realize it, carelessly dancing whichever pop music was playing. He tried not to embarrass himself by doing some sort of manly dance, but she wouldn’t have it.

His heartbeat picked up when Aelin put two hands on his chest and leaned closer to his face, but she just neared his ear and said, “Come on! You can do better than a straight guy dance.”

Rowan laughed brightly at this, little did she know he was just trying to not embarrass himself. He took Aelin’s arm and twirled her just before allowing his limbs to do their own thing, accompanying his dance partner’s uncoordinated moves, just letting loose on the dancefloor. And it felt good. Freeing. Their dancing must’ve looked borderline quirky from anyone looking from the outside, but he felt lighter than ever.

Feeling a little bold, he placed both hands on her hips, still swaying together. After a few minutes, she led him to the bar again, holding hands.

After sipping on the same drinks again, he mentioned to ask Aelin what she wanted to do, but her eyes were already on him. She led him out of the crowded part, and then trapped Rowan against the glass wall with her two hands. The only signs of her desire were her quick breaths and hypnotizing parted lips, so Rowan put his years-long self-control aside and placed a unsteady hand on Aelin’s nape, his thumb running her neck up and down.

He didn’t know who initiated it, but what started tentative soon became an open-mouthed, fervent kiss. Every inch of Aelin’s front was pressed against his, and she didn’t seem to mind Rowan’s greedy hands on her sides by the way she yanked his hair, leading his mouth to her neck.

Swapping places, he pressed Aelin against the wall. “Tell me you didn’t put that golden dress on purpose,” Rowan hissed on her ear, in charge of her body.

“I can’t,” she smirked.

Rowan kissed her again. Picking Aelin up, he sneaked his hands a bit under her dress, hoping his eager grip wouldn’t bruise her. In response, she pressed herself against him, her ridden-up dress allowing the friction between his bulge and her underwear’s the flimsy fabric. She was going to be the death of him.

“You’re such a cocktease.” Rowan didn’t mean to say this out loud, but he was too immersed in her to chastise himself. However, Aelin’s whole body shivered, and she arched her hips against this. Just as greedy, he decided to continue, “And you love it, don’t you? I bet you’re loving to make my blood boil right now.” She moaned, and Rowan moved one hand that was already under her dress to run his thumb against her wet underwear. He could feel Aelin’s knees buckling on his side, but he stilled. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and at least a decade since doing it at a part. And it wasn’t just a woman, it was Aelin. Perhaps he was going too fast and—

“Please,” Aelin’s soft whimper snapped him out of his thoughts.

Well, it was hard to deny her anything with those bewitching little whimpers and flushed cheeks. Their position made it hard for anyone to notice Rowan’s hand under her dress, so he sneaked his thumb under the lacy fabric and started massaging Aelin’s clit. She cried out when he first applied pressure, but Rowan started kissing her to swallow her moans, and they soon settled into a rhythm.

For all the restrained movements he had by using one arm to carry Aelin and the other hand pleasure her, she made up by touching him everywhere. Rowan felt sly hands running across his chest, back, redirecting his face from Aelin’s mouth to her neck, making his desire grow each touch.

She gripped his shirt with impressive strength when her body went still around him, then she relaxed completely on his arms. Rowan pressed their foreheads together, both of them panting when he felt a bit smug by noticing her trademark lavender smell was now mixed with sweat.

“You alright?” he asked.

His answer was a lazy, blissful smile. “Perfect. We might need a napkin to your face, though.” Rowan leaned a little to the side to see his reflection on the glass wall and, yes, his face was smudged with Aelin’s lipstick. A lot.

After getting down from his embrace and making sure her legs were firm enough to walk in high heels again, they decided to look for anything able to clean his face—napkin, tissue, toilet paper—they couldn’t afford to be picky.

The birthday boy, was Henrys his name? was filming the whole party, and soon the blinding flashlight from his phone landed on them.

“Say cheese!” he screamed, way too cheerful to be sober.

A dark-haired version of Henrys yanked him away. “I’m cutting off your booze.” Then he turned his head towards everyone in the room and quickly yelled, “Sorry!”

Aelin chuckled, and they soon found an empty bathroom with tissues. She mentioned for him to seat on top of the toilet’s closed lid while grabbing what she needed, but then stopped.

“You know?” she started with a sultry voice, “I kinda like that look on you. And I like that I was the one to kiss you all over.”

“You like your men looking like the Joker?” Rowan teased.

She giggled, losing the seductress act for a minute. Aelin sat on his lap, rubbing a wet tissue against his neck. He instantly held her hips and pulled her closer, baring her thighs on the way. Aelin took it as a cue and started rubbing herself against his bulge, and in this position Rowan was free to cup her breasts. One hand was gripping her hair, helping him lead the kiss, and the other holding Aelin’s breast as his thumb flicked a nipple through the dress. They were in a frenzy, giving and taking pleasure however they could, when Rowan heard a hissing sound. Aelin unzipping her dress.

Deciding to gently stop her, he managed to cup her hand somewhere between her hand and her hips.

Breaking the kiss, Aelin leaned away from him a little. “Did I do something wrong?”

Why in hell would she think that? Putting a strand of golden hair behind her ear, he whispered, “Of course not.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So...”

Even if he was turned on like he haven’t been in years, it didn’t feel right. 18-year-old Rowan wouldn’t think twice before fucking a long-time crush in a party bathroom. 38-year-old Rowan? Not so much. Not only because he wanted to do right by Aelin, but also because adulthood back pains were no joke. Even with daily exercises, the only counter he allowed himself to bend over was his own, to cook dinner.

“I have better plans,” he said in a playful voice, trying to not upset her.

Aelin crossed her arms. “I highly doubt that.”

“We go back to the party and finish the night with our clothes on—“

“How is that better?”

He chuckled and kissed her adorable pout. “Then I’ll show up in your porch tomorrow and ask you on a date, and I’m pretty sure you’ll say yes because I’ll bribe you with chocolate. After I buy you dinner, if you feel like it, I’ll take you somewhere and ravish you whole until the morning because we have no kids to gross out with our love lives”

Aelin wrapped both arms around Rowan’s neck, sending him a sly smile. “I really like your plans…” He raised an eyebrow, knowing she wasn’t finished. “But the ravishing me whole part only appears once, and at the end.”

Grinning at her, he teased, “So you want the old man, but not the old-fashioned manners?”

That was enough to make her crack up. “You’re four years older! There’s barely an age gap.”

“Aelin, you have a TikTok account.”

“And?” she cried out.

“You’re young.”

She cackled and got herself up, pulling him too. “Come on, old man, I’m hungry.”

There wasn’t a proper table, but they managed to find a seat near the catering and snatch some food. Aelin was sat on his lap, eagerly eating some pan-fried trout he convinced her to try after a lot of pouting and grimacing. Before she could force him to eat chocolate, Rowan’s phone pinged once. And again. When he saw it was Maisie, he unlocked the phone and briefly apologized to Aelin—who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, too focused on her fish.

Mais: DAD

His daughter sent him a picture of him walking side by side with Aelin, one hand on her waist. It was a little blurred, probably a screenshot from a video, but it was clear Rowan’s face and neck had some smudged lipstick on, his eyes were sparkling, and he just now noticed that he hadn’t felt lighthearted like this in a long while. Still, his kid’s reaction made him a bit uneasy. He had always put Maisie before any romantic interest without a second thought, and he didn’t want to change it just because she wasn’t at home.

Rowan: How in hell did you get this

Mais: Finn saw on Instagram and sent to me

Mais: We made sibling vows by text and everything

He zoomed in on the top of the picture, and it seemed like some fmoonbeam person has posted it.

Rowan: Do you think it’s weird?

Mais: NO!!

Mais: I mean I’m completely horrified

Mais: But in a good way

Mais: I’m happily retreating from the competition

Rowan: ??

Mais: Dad she’s a MILF

That was more than enough to make him flush. Aelin looked confused, and when he showed her the text thread, she cackled.

“Sounds like we have our kid’s permission,” she pointed out.

He beamed at that. For eighteen years, Rowan struggled with finding someone who he liked and Maisie might like, besides living the anxiety of trying to not catch feelings before he had it figured out. And long after Rowan gave up on dating, his neighbor swept him off his feet and checked all boxes in one night. And he was so relaxed tonight he didn’t even overanalyze every sentence she said to figure out if she’d be a good stepmom.

Rowan texted a quick Night, Mais. Behave. and turned his attention back to Aelin. Her smile was intoxicating, he noted as he grinned back, and it made him want to get closer and live immersed in it for days on end.

But then she straightened her posture and looked him in the face. “So...”

“So?”

“I just want you to clarify something for me, so I can know what to expect.” Aelin started fiddling with her fingers. “We’ve known each other for years, and this happened just now...” Rowan tilted his head, not getting where she was going, and she ran a frustrated hand through her head. “I just want to know if this is a thing thing or if we’re just getting together because we’re empty nested and bored.

Giving her a loose hug around the waist, he smiled and said, “No, definitely a thing thing to me.”

Sighing in relief, all of her features relaxed as she explained herself. “Good. I was just asking because,” Aelin bit her lip. “Finn’s a shy kid, so going for his best friend’s dad was a risky move, but I definitely… noticed you.”

Grinning like Hellas, Rowan scooted her closer and whispered on her ear, “Oh, I’ve noticed you too.”

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Sure. You think I’ve never noticed your tiny little weekend sundresses, Aelin?” he said while brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. “You don’t think I notice the tight pencil skirts you go to work with?”

“So you’ve noticed me too?” she asked.

“Very much.”

“Wanna notice me in the bathroom again?��

Rowan cackled, breaking the spell. “I told you I’d notice you after asking you out and buying dinner, I never said we can’t do it all in one day.”

Humming, she bit her lip to stifle a smile. “Tomorrow?”

“If you accept my official wooing then, Milady.”

Aelin rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but the grin she wore was fooling no one. She got up and pulled Rowan by the arm, and he didn’t fight it when she led him to the dancefloor again.

TAG LIST

@autumnbabylon

@courtofjurdan

@elentiyawhitethorn

@leiawritesstories

@rowanaelinn

@thegreyj

@rowaelinscourt

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

assigning midnights songs to the bau and ships

characters

emily;

anti-hero; did you hear my covert narcissism idisguise as altruism like some kind of congressman, tale as old as time, i wake up screaming from dreaming one day i'll watch as you're leaving and life will lose all its meaning for the last time

would've, could've, should've; all i used to do was pray // i would've stayed on my knees and i damn sure never would've danced with the devil (at fifteen)// if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // you're a crisis of my faith, would've, could've, should've, if I'd only played it safe // god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be, the tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time

dear reader; dear reader, get out your map, pick somewhere and just run, dear reader, burn all the files, desert all your past lives, and if you don't recognize yourself, that means you did it right // never take advice from someone who's falling apart // dear reader when you aim at the devil make sure you don't miss // you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where i was walking, to a house, not a home, all alone

penelope, bejeweled; best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer // baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl, did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve // what's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine

jj (about ros or maggie), bigger than the whole sky; ive got a lot to pine about, ive got a lot to live without, im never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you // did some force take you because I didn't pray? every single thing to come has turned into ashes // it's all over, it's not meant to be so ill say words I don't believe, goodbye

elle, vigilante shit; and she looks so pretty, driving in your Benz. lately she's been dressing for revenge. she don't start shit, but she can tell you how it ends, don't get sad, get even // someone sweet and kind and fun the lady simply had enough

morgan, karma; i keep my side of the street clean, you wouldn't know what I mean // karma is a god // me and karma vibe like that // don't you know that cash ain't the only price? it's coming back around // ask me what i learned from all those years, ask me what i earned from all those tears // im still here // karma's gonna track you down step by step, town to town

spencer, you're on your own kid; cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned, everything you lose is a step you take, so make the friendship bracelets take the moment and taste it, you've got no reason to be afraid // you're on your own, kid, you always have been

haley, high infidelity; high infidelity, put on your records, and regret me // do you really want to know where I was april 29th? do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? // storm coming, good husband, bad omen // at the house lonely, good money // you know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough, do you really want to know where i was april 29th? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

hotchniss;

the great war; all that blood shed, crimson clover, uh-huh, sweet dream was over, my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war // your finger on my hair pin triggers, hold you down on that icy ground, looked up at me with honor and truth, broken and blue, so I called off the troops. that was the night I nearly lost you

labyrinth; it only hurts this much right now was what I was thinking the whole time, breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out, ill be getting over you my whole life// you would break your back to make me break a smile, you know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back, just like that

mastermind; what if i told you none of it was accidental? and the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me, i laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line // no one wanted to play with me as a little kid so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since to make them love me and make it seem effortless is this the first time I feel the need to confess? and i swear, im only cryptic and machiavellian 'cause i care

jemily:

maroon (emilys perspective); and I chose you, the one I was dancin' with in new york // the burgundy on my tshirt when you splashed your wine onto me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was maroon //sobbin' with your head in your hands ain't that the way shit always ends? // and I wake with your memory over me, that's a real fucking legacy to leave

paris; privacy sign on the door and on my page and on the whole world, romance is not dead if you keep it just yours // i wanna transport you to somewhere the culture's clever confess my truth in swooping sloping cursive letters

snow on the beach (jjs perspective); and it's like snow at the beach, weird but it was beautiful, flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful, you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's comin' down, no sound, it's all around // i can't speak, afraid to jinx it. i don't even dare to wish it

glitch; we were supposed to be just friends // i think there's been a glitch, five seconds later, i'm fastening myself to you with a stitch and I'm not even sorry // a  brief interruption, a slight malfunction, id go back to wanting dudes who give nothing, ihought we had no chance and that's romance, let's dance

other ships

willifer, lavendar haze; all they keep asking me is if i'm gonna be your bride the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife // im damned if I do give a damn what people say, no deal, the 1950s shit they want from me

hotchniss/willifer/jemily, midnight rain; he was sunshine, i was midnight rain he wanted it comfortable, i wanted that pain, he wanted a bride, i was making my own name, chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight // i broke his heart 'cause he was nice // Picture perfect, shiny family, holiday, peppermint candy but for him it's every day // i guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted

garvez, sweet nothing; they said the end is coming, everyone's up to something, i find myself running home to your sweet nothings, outside they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing // to you i can admit that im just too soft for all of it

jeid, question...?;  one thing after another fucking situation, circumstances, miscommunications and I have to say, by the way, i just may like some explanations// did you leave her house in the middle of the night? did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, when she said it was too much? do you wish you could still touch her? it's just a question // half-moon eyes, bad surprise, did you realize, out of time, she was on your mind with some dickhead guy that you saw that night but you were on something

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- Witch Hunt

Prev.

“Garl. There’s someone at our table. I want her gone.”

Garl grimaced as he lifted his head off the bar just enough to look at his minuscule partner. “Mmm? What’s that? What time is it?” He murmured.

“How much did you drink last night?” Odra rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I got down here, there’s a bitch at our table, and she wants to talk to us. Says she has a job. Are you sober enough to hear it so she’ll leave?”

Grumbling, Garl slipped off the bar stool, cracking his neck before looking up at the corner table that Odra claimed was ‘theirs’. Sure enough, there was someone there- two hobgoblin bodyguards and one fine lady they were accompanying. She had fiery red hair down to her waist, the slit in her dress went up her thigh… she was a sight for mortal and god alike. She spotted Garl and winked, and like that Garl was wide awake. The gargoyle bolted to his normal seat, nearly trampling an unfortunate gnome on his way to get there.

Odra sighed. “Every time it’s a hot one…” she murmured to herself before following her companion. She pulled herself up onto her chair and glowered at the ‘table thief’. “Sup.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, so you are Garl’s partner, Miss Boots.”

“It’s Manyboots.”

The woman ignored the scowling Odra and leaned in towards Garl. “You’re quite a looker, that’s something your fearsome reputation leaves out,” she said.

Garl puffed up a bit. “Flatterer,” he said. Odra fake gagged and Garl whacked the back of her head to shut her up. “My partner mentioned something about a job?”

“Right, of course. Business first, pleasure second.” The woman sat back up. “I’m Anne. I come to you for help because I need two strong fighters to handle this problem.

“I live in an estate in the nearby forest with my mother and sister. We like the peace of living outside of town, but we’ve been haunted by a horrid witch.” Anne fanned her face. “She’s a horrid thing, sacrificing animals and impaling what’s left of them on tree stumps, poisoning our food stores, and worst of all, seducing our stable boys out into the fog where they’re never seen again… I…” Anne wiped a tear from her eye, “she stole my love from me. The man who meant the world to me, and I’ve never seen him again!”

Odra gritted her teeth. “So, kill the witch?” She guessed. “Easy ‘nough, but it’ll cost extra- stone dumbass has a magic weakness.”

“That’s the other half of this job.” Anne tapped her fingers together and smiled sheepishly. “The witch… my mother wants to speak with her. She wants to know why she’s targeted our family, how we possible could have wronged her.”

… Fuck a duck.

“You want us to capture the witch? Alive?” Odra scoffed. “Lady, I doubt you have that gold for that-”

Anne snapped her fingers and one of the hobgoblins proceeded to rest a bag of gold about the size of Odra’s head on the table. She took out a few handfuls and placed it on Odra’s lap before repeating the action with Garl, only with a little more leaning forward and winking.

“That’s the down payment. You’ll get the rest of the bag when you bring us the witch.”

Odra stared at the gold on her lap before she snatched it up and grinned. “Done. Where’s the bitch?” She asked, tucking the coins in her shirt.

Anne beamed.

“Thank you so much! The witch roams close to our home, you’ll find her easiest in the evening and night, when she’s on the hunt…”

~*~

Three days of tracking and at the stroke of midnight, the hard work paid off.

Odra crashed through the undergrowth, cackling wildly as she chased the hooded figure running up ahead. “Come on, we were told you were scary! Garl in a pink dress would be scarier!” she called after the runaway.

The figure didn’t stop. She hurled herself over a fallen tree and continued to run. It was clear she had no plan about where she was going to go, she was just desperate to get away from the crazy rapier wielding goblin chasing her… and clearly she forgot about the gargoyle.

Garl landed in front of her, startling her enough that she fell backwards on her ass. Garl grinned menacingly and pressed his sword up under her chin. “You’re done running,” he growled.

Obviously this scared her into stillness, as she was still trembling on the ground by the time Odra caught up. “Nice to know your fat ass can still fly,” she teased as she grabbed the woman’s clawed hands and tied them together.

“I’m not fat. I’m heavy.” Garl leaned down to look at their captured witch. “Now, let’s see what this scary witch looks like.”

He flicked her hood off and dark curls tumbled down over her face. She managed to blow a few locks out of her mismatched eyes- one was blue, meh, lots of people with blue eyes so who cared- but the other was bright cherry red. Save for the pale green skin and a slim pair of horns that sprouted from her temples and wrapped around the back of her head, she didn’t look like an evil, scheming witch who stole boyfriends and sacrificed animals. She looked much more like a terrified teenage girl.

“There’s been a mistake!” The girl yelped.

Garl snorted before he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Don’t care. You should’ve put up more of a fight,” he said as he started walking, Odra skipping next to them and singing a little ditty about the gold they were about to get.

The girl squirmed briefly before going still. “They?” she asked.

“The lady and her family that live in a nearby mansion, she said you were terrorizing ‘em,” Odra mockingly tutted her tongue, “such a bad witch. They want to talk to you because they’re softies.”

“What are you talking about?” The girl glanced between Odra and Garl a few times. “No one lives in that mansion, it’s abandoned.”

Both Odra and Garl froze. Odra frowned. “They said-”

“Listen to me- I don’t think this lady is who you think she is!” The girl shook her head from side to side. “I don’t hurt people. I’m only a healer, I keep to myself because-”

Odra fake snored loudly, cutting off the girl’s explanation. “Don’t caaaare! Listen, even if her address isn’t what she told us, she’s still gonna pay us a buttload of gold!” Odra reached into her shirt and pulled out a handful of the gold.

The girl squinted at the gold before she scowled and snapped, “Dispel Magic!”

Odra watched as the ‘gold’ faded into a pile of worms. Her jaw dropped. “Wha- Garl, check your gold!”

Garl frowned but he kept the girl on his shoulder as he dug into his wallet. Sure enough. Worms and beetles. He growled as he threw them into the ground and stomped them into the marshy earth.

Odra stuffed the worms in her mouth, chewing on them for a moment before she spat them out. “Bitch paid us in worms?! Worms!? Not even tasty worms! Fine, Garl, put her down! Where’s that fucking mansion!? I’m gonna rip that lying cheapskate’s guts out and string them out on the way home!” she screeched. Garl promptly dropped the girl on the ground, she nearly stumbled and fell on her face but caught herself at the last second.

“Follow me.” The girl tucked her skirts up near her waist best she could with her tied hands, revealing her bare, callused feet. “I know the building she talked about.”

Odra was practically frothing at the mouth as she stormed after Sahsi, Garl taking up the rear with his sword swung over his shoulders.

It was only a few minutes of silent rage before Odra had to ask.

“Where’s your fucking shoes?”

“My dad was a halfling. I never wore shoes living with him, I won’t wear them now,” Sahsi stretched out her foot. “And er, you can call me Sahsi. I’m Sahsi Humble.”

Odra snorted. “You’re too tall to be a halfling.”

“I’m only half, er, halfling.” Sahsi twirled a wavy lock of hair around her finger. “My mom’s a hag.”

“People fuck hags?” Odra blurted out.

Sahsi gawked at Odra’s bluntness. “I- um- well, she’s a Green Hag-”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“… She can… make herself look different,” Sahsi cleared her throat. “Illusion magic. It’s their specialty.”

Odra nodded before glancing over at Garl. “Think Anne was a Green Hag? Ooooh, you could’ve swapped spit with a haaagg…”

Garl snorted. “She wasn’t my type-”

“Wait, Anne!?”

Sahsi nearly tripped over another branch in her surprise. “Nosy Anne came? In person?” she asked.

“With a stupid name like that, she’s definitely a hag,” Odra snickered.

Sahsi turned back forward, visibly tense. “Um. Hmmm. You sure you want to talk to her still?” she asked in a shrill tone.

Garl glared down at Sahsi. “Mmhmm. She still need to pay us,” he growled.

Sahsi gulped before she hurried on ahead.

The mansion at first glance seemed wonderful, beautiful, covered in ivy, honestly downright cozy. Sahsi muttered another ‘Dispel Magic’ though and it all faded away. The stables were rotting, skeletons of both animals and humanoids littered the grounds and hung from the ruins of a haunting manor. It would make the hair stand on the neck of a normal person. But neither Odra or Garl really had any hair, so Odra just scowled. “Anne! Hey, bitch, we got your witch! You have some explaining to do!” She shouted.

A shrill cackle filled the air and Anne materialized with her hobgoblin guards in the yard. “Well, you actually talked to Sahsi? I figured you’d just knock her out,” Anne said with a shrug.

“Well, we used to, but Garl kept accidentally killing them.” Odra gave Garl a dirty look and he nodded. “His knock out punches were too good. So where’s the gold and what’s the deal? This scary witch,” Odra gestured frantically towards Sahsi, who smiled meekly, “didn’t even try to fight us! She just ran away! So what’s the big deal?”

Anne scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Sahsi, you need to stop being a selfish child and come home. You running around like a careless fool is causing our mother so much stress. This goes on much longer, you’ll never be who you are meant to be. You’ll fade. You’ll-”

“Go jump off a cliff.”

Sahsi glowered at Anne. “I won’t fade. I just won’t be like you, or like Screeching Lucy, or like our mother. You’re awful, manipulative, you all just- just use everyone around you! I’m not going to be that. And if that means I’ll never reach my full potential of power, then so be it. I won’t become a hag. Not now. Not ever.”

Anne gasped. “You ungrateful little girl! Our mother loves you!” She shook her finger at Sahsi. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“If she really loved me, she’d accept what I am. And that I choose what I’m becoming.”

Anne looked ready to slap Sahsi in the face when Odra cleared her throat. “Hey, hey, as much as Garl and I are enjoying this dramatic discussion about your fate and family and whatever- Garl’s horny after you led him on with this fake face of yours, and I just want to go home and drink beer. We brought you Sahsi. Where’s our money?”

Sahsi gaped at the pair of ‘heroes’ while Anne scoffed. “You really think I’m going to pay you two?” She shook her head. “Please. You’re not worth two coppers, let alone the few hundred gold I made you believe was in that sack. You’re just a goblin. The only reason I hired you was to get your gargoyle friend, he’s the real power I needed here. You… you are just vermin. Garbage. A- why- what are you doing?”

Odra was laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she shrieked with hysterics, finishing it off with a slap to her knee.

“So, let me get this straight. You lied to me. You’re not going to pay me. And now you’re insulting me?”

Odra straightened up before she took a dagger from her belt.

“Nosy Anne, you are one stupid bitch. We were going to help you. Now we’re going to kill you.”

With that, Odra cut loose Sahsi’s wrists. “Back us up,” she hissed before throwing the dagger right at Anne’s head.

Anne slapped the dagger away and the disguise promptly faded away- red hair turned dull gray and moldy, a perfect face wrinkled and grew several warts on the tip of her nose, and her curvy build hunched and sagged. “Griktig, Naldren- kill that goblin vermin and her rock for brains friend,” she rasped.

Odra pulled out her rapier from her waist and grinned ear to ear. “Have fun trying,” she said before charging forward. She caught a glimpse of Garl’s shadow above her head and saw those hobgoblins visibly pale.

Oh, how quickly they realized mistakes had been made.

A few hours later, Odra was enjoying that beer back in the guild, Garl sitting by her side, and a blushing Sahsi sitting across from them.

“I really can’t thank you two enough,” Sahsi nodded at the pair. “You saved me back there.”

“Ehhhhh,” Odra twisted her mouth, “I mean, we were hired to kidnap you first. And if she did pay us, we would’ve just thrown you over.”

“… Well. You changed your mind. And I’m so thankful for that.” Sahsi smiled sweetly. “If you ever need a healer, I’m your girl.”

Odra hid her face behind her beer. “Well, um, neat,” she grumbled. Why did good people have to be so fucking nice?

Garl broke the weird atmosphere by getting up. “I’m going to Fit for Kings,” he grumbled.

Sahsi frowned. “What’s… Fit For Kings?”

“Brothel down the way,” Odra stuck a thumb out, “head right, you can’t miss the building with the enchanted gold lights hanging down the sides of the doorway.”

Sahsi’s face went bright pink. “Oh! Um, have a good time?” She immediately cringed at herself and Garl paused for a brief moment before hurrying the rest of the way out, but there was definitely a hidden smile on his face.

~*~

“… So the mercenaries you hired turned on you after you refused to pay them. They killed one of your hobgoblins. And the other is…”

“Traumatized and will need a few weeks off for recovery.”

Anne couldn’t look her mother in the eye. It was one thing to have fucked this up on her own. It was another to fuck up a request from the queen of the Hags herself- Ancient Genevieve, the most powerful green hag in their era.

Currently she was sitting on her throne with some odd human noble as her footstool- oh the fetishes the rich had- rubbing her temples and looking more than a little irritated. If Anne was any of the other hags, she would be booking it, but being a momma’s girl gave her the privilege of not being obliterated with a finger snap. She’d get a five second head start.

“I underestimated them, I know,” Anne admitted. “Come on now, it was just a stupid goblin and a horny rocks for brains gargoyle that couldn’t keep his eyes off my boobs when I hired them for the job! How was I supposed to expect-”

“Odra Manyboots is not your average goblin, pumpkin.”

Oh boy. You know she was mad when she started using Anne’s childhood pet name.

Genevieve leaned forward, applying more of her weight on the human’s back. “She’s the one goblin in the Lockmere Adventurer’s Guild after she and her ‘rock for brains’ companion proved their mettle by slaughtering Biting Blanche.”

The blood drained from Anne’s face. “Biting Blanche? No, you’re not serious, she was an Annis Hag with several ogres under her command! She killed dozens of heroes sent to take her out! It would take more than-”

“A goblin and a gargoyle?”

Genevieve sighed. “Anne, Anne, Anne. You’re smarter than this. Once they caught onto your scam, you should have just paid them. Then your sister wouldn’t be running around unobserved, in danger from the foolish humans that would burn her rather than accept her or other such horrible fates. You failed.” Genevieve kicked the noble away and got to her feet, Anne shaking as her mother approached.

The hag queen’s hand rested on Anne’s shoulder.

“You’ve disappointed me.”

With that cutting remark said, Genevieve walked back to her throne and sat back down, the noble scrambling to get back under her feet. “Replace your personal guards for now. And I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Anne gulped. “Y-yes mother,” she curtsied before bolting from the room.

Genevieve sighed once her daughter was out of sight. “Honestly, Sahsi, if I didn’t love you so much, I would’ve already given up on you,” she murmured, tapping her fingers on her armrest.

That was just part of being a mother, she supposed. Loving your children, even when they didn’t listen to you.

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