#now that the book is bound i’m re-reading

[lenakluthor]

remember when i mentioned i’d taken up bookbinding? well, i finished binding people will say we’re in love by @takethegrasskara and i’m so happy with how it turned out, i wanted to show off a little. i wasn’t sure i’d be able to pull it off, since it’s significantly longer than my first attempt at binding, but honestly? i’m obsessed. and now one of my favorite fics gets to live on my bookshelf forever!

[devildomwriter]

They Find Your Oddly Specific Erotic Manga | Others X Reader

GN! Reader x Solomon, Simeon, Raphael, Mephistopheles, Barbatos, Diavolo | Warnings: Suggestive

Solomon

You groaned as Solomon set a heavy pile of books on the table in front of you.

“How many of those do you need me to read?”

“As many as possible.” He chuckled at your gloomy expression. “What, don’t you want to become more powerful?”

You nodded but sighed as you closed the book that actually entertained you, and placed it back on its shelf.

Solomon followed you with his eyes and noticed you’d rearranged your shelf from the last time he saw it.

“Oh, you organized it!” He exclaimed and grinned proudly. “Excellent. Now we can find space to put your new books.”

You blushed and shook your head, you didn’t need this man to find the books you strategically placed out of sight. If he read the title alone he’d never let you live it down.

“Ah, please don’t mess with those,” you pleaded but when he saw your shy expression he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh? What could my sweet apprentice be hiding from me?” He teased. “Don’t you know you should share everything with your master?”

He began looking over the books and even behind them.

You stood up quickly and outstretched your hand, reciting a spell you’d recently learned. “I call upon the earth itself to shackle the one who stands before me. Leave them bound and helpless. I am the sorcerer ___, obey me!”

Solomon looked shocked when shackles appeared from your bedroom floor and wrapped around him.

“Incredible! Job well done, ___.” He smiled but with a snap of his fingers, they dissipated. “Unfortunately I’ve long since mastered that spell, sorry. And now I’m more curious than ever what you could be hiding.”

You groaned and gave up, accepting your fate. You heard his chuckle and assumed he must’ve found the books you’d hidden. His laugh became louder and he wiped tears from his eyes.

“It’s no wonder you hid these!” He exclaimed, “These are oddly specific too, aren’t they?” He noted as you continued to hide your face.

“Virgin Witch,” he listed, “Master Sorcerer Is Obsessed With His Angelic Apprentice! That one’s relatable,” he admitted, making you blush further. “Oh I like the Looks of this one; Fighting Demons With My Handsome Master: I’ll Follow Him to the End of the World and into Bed! Oh, I wonder if you find that one relatable?” He prodded as he looked at your steaming face.

“You’re a jerk…” you mumbled and he laughed, unbothered.

“Ah, maybe I am? But I was going to find out eventually, right?” He shrugged and you finally looked up, brows furrowed angrily.

He shook his head, “Now what’s with that look? You’re the one reading these books.”

“Reading isn’t a crime.”

“Exactly! And that’s what I did just now, no?”

You sighed. There was no use arguing with someone given the title “Witty” by the master of time, Barbatos himself.

“Now that that’s in the open. How relatable do you find these to be?” He unbuttoned the top of his uniform and approached you with a wanton gaze, “…I’m dying to know. You’ll show me…won’t you?”

Simeon

Simeon sat on your bed, reading with you. You tried to meet up and have a relaxing day as often as you could. Given all the chaotic people in your life, it was nice to have company who didn’t need to talk to have fun with you. Simeon was content just being by your side.

He closed his book and sat up, petting your head before he got to his feet to shelve the book he’d just finished.

“Where did this one go again?”

“They’re categorized by genre,” you said, not looking away from your book.

He nodded and scanned the many shelves of books when his eyes crossed a peculiar title and he got a mischievous look in his eyes.

“____,” he questioned with an innocent smile, “what’s this?” He held up what was clearly an angel-based erotic manga.

You sat straight up, “oh shoot!” You exclaimed and he laughed and flipped through it.

“Can Angels Do This?” He read and noticed there were similar titles next to it.

You immediately regretted shelving the books by genre as he listed the other titles with amusement.

“Hell x Heaven…Heavenly Body…Angelic Whispers Bring Demons to Their Knees…Over-Cumming Writers Block…The Fallen Angel is Falling For Me!” He smirked, “that last one looks rather interesting…” he said with a curious gleam in his eyes.

You turned red and looked away, no longer focused on your book.

He walked over to you, book in hand. “I think I’ll read this one next,” he declared and you gave him a baffled look.

“W-What? Right next to me, too?” You stammered.

“Oh, are you embarrassed? Why would you be?” He grinned, knowing full well what he was doing.

He sat next to you on the bed again, closer than before, and began reading the erotica.

You couldn’t focus on your book and kept glancing to see what page he was on. He chuckled, stole your book, and set it aside.

“Wh— hey?” You complained but he laughed and scooted even closer to you.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I assumed you wanted to read this with me…that’s certainly what it looked like.”

You blushed and he continued to tease you, “Or were you staring at me for another reason?”

“No I-uh…um…” You hid your face in your hands and he frowned.

“I’m sorry did I go too far?” He asked with his hand behind his neck and head tilted slightly to appear more innocent.

“Well, it’s hard not to stare at you, to begin with…” you mumbled and it was his turn to blush. “But now you’re reading…that.”

“Well, you read it too didn’t you?”

“Y-yes but that’s different.”

“How is it different? Were you ashamed? Could that be because you bought this oddly specific manga with someone in mind?”

He knew he nailed it when you turned deep red and he pushed the hair out of your overheated face.

“Oh…so that is it, isn’t it?” He mused and when you met his eyes he couldn’t help but ask, “Wouldn’t you prefer a real one to your books?”

Raphael

Raphael was an observant man. Almost too observant because he hadn’t been in your room for long when he noticed part of your bookshelf was hidden by framed pictures of you and your Devildom friends.

He couldn’t focus on the puzzle you’d invited him over for, and kept glancing at the shelf until you noticed his foot was quickly tapping on the floor, giving away his curiosity.

“Raphael? Is everything okay?” You asked, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further about the bookshelf.

“The bookshelf.” He stated, and you sighed. He titled his head curiously.

“Oh…those are just books an angel shouldn’t be looking at…” you admitted, hoping that would be the end of it, or he’d stop at a light scolding.

He gave you a look that made it clear he wasn’t just disappointed in your taste in books, but more so that you tried hiding it from him.

“I’m aware humans like that kind of thing. Why did you feel you needed to hide it from me?” He asked with a frown.

“Because I knew you’d give me your disappointed look.”

“Am I that predictable?” He asked and you nodded.

He appeared to be thinking it over and then abruptly stood up to investigate the shelf further. He understood you must mean books with inappropriate material but he wanted to be certain you didn’t mean demon-worshipping books as that was also something angels shouldn’t be reading.

You put your face in your hands and groaned. Nothing would stop Raphael and you weren’t looking forward to the scolding.

As expected there was a stunned silence from him for a minute before he turned to you, brows furrowed and placing a stack of books in front of you.

He sat back down facing you as if he were about to begin an interrogation.

“Cotton Candy My Angel…” he began listing. “Beastly Angel… The Words of an Angel Who Came From Heaven… I Want the Angel to Use His Spear on Me!” He looked puzzled by the last one and mumbled, “That’s oddly specific…”

You blushed and nodded. “Okay…you found the secret stash…let’s continue the puzzle.”

He didn’t drop it, as expected. “You understand angels can’t do this sort of thing with humans?” He questioned and you nodded but then shrugged.

“Well…I’m not technically human, am I?”

A nearly unnoticeable blush crossed his face and he remained silent, deciding how to respond to that. “Angels…don’t really do that with each other either…”

“As far as you know.”

“What?” His confused face made you chuckle. It was almost too cute for words.

“I said what I said.”

“What are you implying? What sort of things are you imagining?” He prodded.

You shrugged again, “I don’t know…what do you think I’m implying, Seraphim Raphael…”

His blush was now very noticeable as he stood up and put the books back on the shelf. He sat back in front of you and quickly began messing with the puzzle pieces.

Every so often you tapped his foot with yours and his blush would increase. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles looked around your room curiously. You’d invited him over to talk with you as he’d long been interested in interviewing the exchange student who’d made such a big splash in the Devildom and was particularly close to his idol, Lord Diavolo.

He looked at the tree and the lights you’d hung around it. He looked at the coffin-shaped bookshelf and the books on it when he noticed some were hidden behind the rest.

He glanced at the door to make sure you weren’t about to walk in and quickly walked to the bookshelf.

The books in front were normal, or at least normal for someone who’s just had the existence of demons confirmed to them.

Books like Paradise Lost, The Book of Enough, and the Screwtape Letters made him roll his eyes. He also observed the collection of magic books.

“They’ve gotten pretty far in their studies already…” he mumbled when you walked into the room with the tray of tea, iced water, and a giant pot of sugar for Mephistopheles to sweeten his tea as much as he liked.

He grinned and straightened up.

“Oh! Looking at my books?” You beamed and walked over to show him in more detail.

He nodded, glancing at the ones in the back. As you bent over to show him some on the bottom shelf he noticed the first part of a title and immediately took interest, pulling it out.

“Hm?” He hummed before turning red and trying to hide the book quickly before you noticed but instead, he knocked most of the books over.

He quickly used his body to shield you as the top shelf came out of place and fell.

“Ack!” You gasped in surprise, pinned beneath Mephistopheles who was bright red.

“Thank you!” You said, scooting away from him. “Why are you so red?” You questioned when you noticed your secret book stash all around you.

“I-uh-um—“ Mephistopheles stuttered looking around at the titles.

You blushed but decided to tease him. “What? Like you don’t have anything similar?”

He straightened his collar and began reading the titles since it appeared to him you didn’t mind.

“Reincarnated as the Villain: An Archdemon Fell in Love With Me…The Wealthiest Demon in the Land Bought Me!… The Lustful Whims of the Rich Demon Noble…” he eyed you, both of your faces red. “These are rather specific…though I suppose it means you aren’t afraid of us, which is…” he lost his train of thought, unable to focus as he rightfully assumed you had a thing for rich demons and had invited him to your room.

“Er-um…” he stuttered looking at you.

“Wh-Why don’t we proceed to the interview…the tea is getting cold too…” you suggested, desperate to fill the silence.

He nodded and looked away nervously, “Did you really invite me here…for an interview?” He questioned and you turned an even deeper shade of red.

“If so…then yes, let us proceed. If not…then what exactly did you have in mind? I suppose I could indulge you…as long as it remains a secret.”

Barbatos

“Oh my,” you hear Barbato’s chuckle as he helps tidy your room.

You were bent over a stack of old notebooks you found when you turned around and your eyes widened in horror.

He was looking at your forbidden bookshelf! You forgot he mentioned he was going to dust every surface in the room. Of course, that also meant the books you hid behind the more innocent ones.

Barbatos gave you an amused look and showed you the manga in his hand as you tried to stutter an excuse.

“My, my ___. Is this the sort of thing you like?”

“I-uh—“ Before you could answer him he began to pull each book out and setting them in a small pile on your desk.

“The Sadistic Butler…I Want to Train You and Break You: Black Butler’s Sadistic Service…” You turned redder as he read every title. Barbatos was the last person you needed to see these.

He continued, the amusement in his voice more evident with each title he read, “Lady and the Butler, Would You Care for a Butler?, The Sinful Evening Affair With a Butler…” he smiled at you, chuckling to himself. When he saw how flushed you were he bowed his head apologetically.

“My apologies, ___. I didn’t mean to be invasive,” he paused and tilted his head. “I do wonder though…did you start reading things like this before or after meeting me…?”

You blushed but gave him an honest answer. “uh…I’ve kinda always had a thing for butlers…and demons…”

His smile widened, “Oh?”

“B-But I didn’t start collecting until more recently…I guess?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You were shocked with yourself you were admitting this and anxious about his reaction.

Barbatos instead finished dusting the shelf and your heart sank. No reaction was worse than anything at all.

“Um…” you said fidgeting, unable to get back to cleaning up.

He glanced your way as he shelved your books again. This team he quickly glimpsed through one and his face turned a dark pink.

“Oh my…no wonder you turned so red?” He surmised and you hid your face.

He put the book back in its place, set down his duster, and approached you as you sat at the end of your bed.

You looked up as he placed his hands on your shoulders. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, a rare look across the demon’s face. His horns grew from his head and his tail from his spine, flicking back and forth.

“I think we’ve cleaned enough for now…how about I reward your hard work? I can take a guess as to what you’d most enjoy.” He said in a low voice, his hot breath against your ear.

You gave a small nod, and with your confirmation, he pushed you back into the bed.

Diavolo

It was bound to come out eventually, you just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Unfortunately for you, Diavolo was a very observant man so the moment he came into your room his eyes were scanning the premises.

“Make yourself at home,” you grinned and he nodded and thanked you.

You went to the kitchen quickly to grab some tea. Barbatos had taught you how to prepare it best for him.

When you recentered your room with tea you saw Diavolo stifling an amused laugh with a book in his hand.

You quickly set the tray of tea down and caught his attention.

“Oh, hehe, thank you,” he chuckled and instead of grabbing his tea, he went back to observing the books on your shelf.

That’s when you realize you made the grave mistake of not hiding the manga you most enjoyed.

“W-What’s so funny?” You asked nervously, knowing full well why he was so entertained.

“Oh, I’m just looking through to see what sort of manga you enjoy…I have to say it’s rather interesting…” he gave you a sly look and went back to laughing to himself.

He shelved the last book and skimmed over the rest.

“These always have such long titles…I honestly thought Levi was just describing the manga for the longest time, but it seems it’s like this in the human world too,” he noted.

He grinned, coming across another interesting title, “Ooh, what’s this one.”

You quickly darted to his side hoping he wouldn’t open up any of them. After all, they’d been wrapped when you bought them for a very good reason.

“Hey, uh-“ you quickly tried grabbing the manga but he held it over his head and laughed as you jumped to try and reach it, just to fall into his large chest.

Diavolo normally didn’t tease you to this degree so you knew he was very invested in this as he began reading aloud some of the titles on the shelf.

“Let’s see…oh here’s another good one! Reincarnated Into A Game World Where The Demon King Who Kidnapped Me Wants To Do Me All Night Long… oh look, this seems interesting too— The Reincarnated Saint Falls for the Demon Lord? When I Reincarnated I Was Doted on by the Demon King… oh look this one is even more to the point! Entwined at Twilight with a Demon: Again… And Again… He Can’t Be Stopped! AHAHAHAHA!” Diavolo’s laughter filled your room as you turned redder than his hair.

“___, I’m curious…you seem to have such a deep fascination with the ones involving Demon Kings in particular…” he grinned mischievously, “is there perhaps a reason for that?”

You blushed but wanted to fill the silence and blurted out what you were thinking before you fully realized what you were asked, “And if there was?”

He looks surprised for a moment but his eyes quickly glazed over with longing. “Then…maybe I’d have to do something about it, wouldn’t I?”

Your heart beat wildly as he set the book down and approached you with heavy steps.

“So, ___? Let’s say we bring one of your fascinating books to life?”

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE

October 1st -- Praise

happy first day of kinktober 🎃🎃🎃🎃!!!

masterlist

summary: You've been secretly hooking up with your coworker Spencer for two months. He notices something about you and wants to try something new. (I personally imagined circa season 10 Reid, but you do you bestie 😘)

warnings: praise, lots of 'good girls', oral [m/f both receiving and giving], light dom behavior, finger sucking, piv, safe sex practices, and a little bit of begging

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me a little bit oops)

this is adult content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

You had never wanted to be one of those people, a girl with a huge crush on her coworker, but then you’d meet Spencer Reid. A year ago, you’d waved at him instead of shaking his hand when Hotch had introduced the two of you, and you’d felt the first flutter of butterflies. You had tried desperately to ignore your feelings, but the more you got to know him, the harder you fell. And then, about two months ago, you’d become another cliche. The girl who was sneaking around and secretly hooking up with her coworker. 

Now you were trying to avoid touching your knee against his as you sat on the plane on the way home from a case. The last time you’d simply accidentally brushed your hand against his, it had been like an electrical shock between the two of you. So it is just easier to avoid touching at all costs while in the presence of your other coworkers. 

The words in the book that you’re holding in your hands are absolute gibberish as you can’t focus on anything except the way Spencer’s hands glide over the page of notes he’s re-reading. You've always known he has captivating hands, but now you know intimately just how capable those hands were. This case was long, and before that, Spencer had been at a conference for four days. He hasn’t touched you in almost a week, and you’re becoming impatient. But you both had wisely made the promise that as long as you were on clock, so to say, you were only coworkers and nothing more. 

You look up as you hear him say your name. 

“Would you mind reading over this? I’m not sure it makes any sense.” He hands you his leather bound notebook. You place your book on your lap and look over into his eyes. 

“Me? I really don’t think I’m the person who…” 

Spencer interrupts you, “I trust your opinion.” It’s a simple statement, but it sets your skin aflame all the same. To hide your reaction, you focus on reading Spencer’s notes. 

“I think it’s great, Spencer. But you’re presenting this to college students, so I think it would be beneficial to use examples they may have heard in the news or at least know ‘cause of the insane amount of Netflix documentaries.” You roll your eyes as you mention the oversaturation of true crime television. But then suddenly you feel self-conscious and hand back his notebook. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s just a small idea.” 

“No, it’s insightful. You’re brilliant.” You can feel your skin heat in embarrassment, not comfortable with the compliment. Compliments often make you uneasy and you don’t know why. Well, that’s not entirely true, but you didn’t feel like profiling yourself to better understand this aspect. 

Spencer’s eyes observe you, and you watch as his tongue slips out and wets his bottom lip as he thinks. “I mean it.” He emphasizes. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly.   

“Good girl.” The words glide from Spencer’s mouth almost absent-mindedly and barely audible as he returns to his work. If he notices how much deeper your blush becomes, he doesn’t say anything. And you pretend you didn’t even hear him, or else you might make a fool of yourself.

Several hours later, you’re finally back at your apartment and getting into pajamas. As you pull a tank top over your head, you allow your mind to think about Spencer.

Good girl. 

He said it so flippantly, practically under his breath. Did he even mean for you to hear it? Did he know how it would make your heart hammer? You play it over again and again, letting yourself bask in the feeling. 

There’s a knock on your door, so you quickly pull on an old pair of yoga pants and race to your door. A brisk glance through your peephole causes that all too familiar heart tremor. Dr. Spencer Reid at your door, as though you’d summoned him with your thoughts. 

You swing open the door and let your eyes trail down his body. 

“I meant it.” He says immediately. 

“What do you mean?” You want to reach for him. He’s still dressed for work, and it takes everything in you not to wrap your fingers around his tie and pull him into your apartment. 

“When I called you brilliant.” He replies casually. 

“You came all this way to call me brilliant?” 

He smirks. “No, I came all this way to do this,” as he talks he steps toward you. 

You let a small breath of anticipation escape before he has his hands on either side of your face and is pressing his lips to yours. Your own hands find their way first to grasp at his waist and then around to his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you, desperate for the feel of his body against yours. The harsh sharp lines of him melding into the soft, lush curves of you. 

He moves you further into your apartment, shuts your door, and then pushes you up against the cool wood of the door, all without pulling his lips away from yours. Goosebumps spring to life across your skin as your body tries to process the head spinning sensation of the warmth of his body, combining with the chill of the door against your back. His hands are in your hair, possessive and needy, and you moan into his mouth. 

You feel the puffs of breath against your mouth as he laughs softly and then pulls away, his hands come to rest between your neck and shoulders. “I’ve missed you.” 

A small smile curves your freshly kissed lips. “It’s been like two hours since I saw you.” 

“I’ve missed being able to touch you.” He amends. The thumb of his right hand starts to move up and down the skin of your neck, and you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating. His eyes search your face. “Did you like it when I called you a good girl?” 

Your lips part as if to reply, but no words come out. 

“Answer me.” He demands softly, his words are never harsh, but they still hold a sense of power. 

“Yes. I liked it,” you admit. 

He continues to watch you as his mind works, and then he makes a low sound of approval from his throat. “And would you like me to call you a good girl more often?” 

Need and want pools low in your belly, but you take a second to wet your lips before answering. You want your voice to come across as strong and sure, so there is no question that you want this. “Yes, please.” 

Your head is swimming in the overwhelming sensation of his lips back on yours in a matter of seconds. His hands explore your body, grazing and grasping onto your breasts before settling on your hips. He uses his knee to push your legs apart, and you move without resistance. A guttural moan breaks free from your throat as that same knee connects with the place that has been begging for friction since the moment Spencer put his hands on you. 

Spencer breaks away from the kiss. “You’re so beautiful when you moan like that,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses, licks, and nips along your jaw and neck. 

Your hips jerk involuntarily, but it instantly causes a wave of pleasure as you slide against him. “Do that again, baby.” You do as you’re told and again and again. His mouth continues across your clavicle, and then lower until his teeth scrape against one of your nipples over the fabric of your tank top. You gasp and push yourself closer to him, but he pulls away. 

He lowers himself to the ground as he works to push down your yoga pants. As soon as you step out of them, the pants are thrown across the room, Spencer not bothering to pay attention. All of his attention is on you. 

“Look at you, pretty girl.” His thumb traces over the damp spot in your underwear while his other hand travels up your leg, sending zaps of pleasure straight to your core. 

“All for me?” His eyes flash up to yours. 

“I’m yours,” you answer. 

“That’s my good girl.” You twist your hands into his hair when his mouth makes contact with your still clothed pussy, his tongue swiping against you. He only teases you for a second before he can’t take it anymore and pulls down your underwear to be able to taste you without a barrier. The room fills with the obscene sounds of him lapping at your core as he lavishes praises on you in between licking and sucking. “So perfect, so goddamn perfect.” 

You throw your head back with a deep moan. 

Spencer continues, undisturbed. “Yes. Keep moaning for me. I want your neighbors to hear how good you are for me.” His tongue circles and caresses your clit. “Do you want my fingers inside of you? Tell me.” 

“Yes, oh god. Fuck. Spencer.” You can’t think straight. The only thing your brain is capable of is focusing on how good you feel. 

Spencer obliges your request and plunges two fingers into you. Your fingers tighten in his hair. “I can’t believe how wet you are. And you’re taking my fingers so good. I bet you’d take my cock even better.” He hooks his fingers and massages against the swollen pressure point inside you. 

You lean forward over him, trying to keep your legs steady. 

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” You simply nod your head even though he can’t see with his face buried in your pussy. “You’re gonna come all over my face and my fingers because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

Your legs shake, but Spencer uses his free hand to hold onto your hip and hold you steady. 

“It’s okay, you can let go. I’ve got you.” His fingers buried deep within you speed up and he focuses all of his attention on the pattern of his tongue against your clit, ramping up the building pleasure that’s threatening to bubble over. “You’ve made such a mess, a beautiful mess. Look at you, so good. So good.” 

You clench around him. “Yes, that’s it. I want you to come. Just like that.” You jerk against his fingers and jaw as the pressure cascades and overflows inside you. His name is the only thing you can say in between your moans. “I love when you say my name when you come.” His fingers slow their pace, and his mouth becomes less frantic as he guides you through your orgasm and the small after-shocks. 

When he finally pulls away completely, you watch slack-jawed as he takes his two fingers and puts them in his slick mouth, cleaning away traces of you. “Tasting you makes me so hard, I love it.” You lean back against the door with a smile. 

“Do you want me to help with that?” 

He laughs. “I’m not even close to finishing with you, my beautiful girl.” When he starts to reach for you, you grab onto his tie first and pull him closer. You work on his tie as you kiss his mouth, tasting the remnants of yourself.

In a matter of seconds, you have his tie off and thrown into the abyss, your shaking fingers focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes watch as you strip him of his shirt and then pull on his belt. But he can’t keep his hands off you, and they create a path over your skin. You undo the clasp, the tingling sound of metal like a beckoning call. 

After taking off his belt and letting it drop to the floor, you also head toward the floor onto your knees. Spencer’s hand’s end up in your hair, and your hands travel up his thighs to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Do you see what you do to me? Only you can make me this hard.” 

You bite your bottom lip and work to take off his pants and underwear as he kicks off his shoes. Your eyes look up to his eyes, and he smiles at you. “Go on, I know you’re desperate for it.” One hand holds onto the base of him as your tongue circles the pink tip. He lets out a sharp breath at the contact. 

You watch his reactions, flicking and teasing his head, gathering the stickiness of his precum on his tongue. Then you circle your lips around him and inch down, your hand sliding up and down on him to meet your mouth. His mouth is wide open as he watches you, the eye contact between the two of you almost overwhelming. Your body doesn’t seem to care that you just had an earth-shattering orgasm because you can feel the steady thrum of need building. 

“Are you getting wet again just from sucking me off?” You nod and take him deeper in your mouth, the hand resting on his thigh feels a muscle twitch. “You have the perfect mouth.” His fingers in your hair pull slightly, not enough to cause pain, but just enough to cause you to moan on his dick. 

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come down that pretty throat.” You moan again, and he makes a low humming noise. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?” 

You pull off of him, a string of spit following you, “yes.” You take both hands and twist and stroke up and down him with a smile on your messy lips. 

“Open your mouth.” You do as he says, sticking your tongue out flat. He takes his two fingers and sticks them in your mouth, and you instantly start to suck on them, never stopping the motion of your hands. “My perfect, beautiful girl.” He mutters and then pulls his fingers from your mouth. Before you can put your mouth back on him, he’s stepping away and then helping you stand up. 

When you’re on your feet, he kisses you slowly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, and you reach down with one hand to continue to stroke him. He breaks the kiss and lightly guides you to turn around and bend over, using your hands to hold yourself up on the door. “You’re so good for me. Stay there.” You look over your shoulder and watch him find his pants to grab a condom. He quickly unwraps it and slides it on before returning to you. 

He glides his hands over the back of your thighs and over your ass appreciatively, then squeezes your ass. “Are you going to take all of me?” The whispers tickling the back of your neck as he leans over you toward your ear, you shiver against him. 

“Yes.” 

He trails a hand down your spine as he pulls away and then helps you to set your legs further apart. You bite your lip, so ready for him, when he squeezes your hips. Both of you moan deeply as he guides himself into you, inching himself in until he’s seated completely. His hands are back on your hips, holding you in place. He leans forward and places a kiss on your back. He whispers in your ear again, “now you’re gonna be a good girl for me, and you’re not gonna come until I tell you you can. Do you understand?” 

You nod swiftly. 

He presses another kiss. “Words please, sweet girl.” 

“I understand.” 

He stands fully and slowly starts to pull himself out of you, dragging against every inch of your core. When he’s out fully, he pushes forward, again at that agonizing slow pace. You squirm against him, needing more. “You think you can take all of it, baby?” 

“Yes. Yes. Please. Please.” 

“You’re so beautiful begging for me.” You think he’s going to continue to tease you, but he doesn't. He starts to move faster and faster, building up a steady rhythm. Your nails scratch against the wood of your door. “That’s it, so good. I only ever feel this good with you. Only you can take my dick like this. You take it so perfect.” He gasps and rambles as he pumps into you. 

The base of your spine zaps pleasure through your body and you shake on him. 

“Don’t come yet, baby. Not yet. I could spend forever inside you.” 

You feel your arms start to get weak, but Spencer holds so tight on you that you know that you’re stable. “I need to –” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I know. I know. But you can wait, I know you can. Do you know how I know you can?” 

You shake your head. 

“Because you’re my good girl.” You press your lips together and moan. “Yeah, and you’re gonna wait until I tell you. And then you’re going to touch that swollen little clit of yours. It’s aching isn’t it.” 

“Yes!” You practically shout. “Spencer, please.” 

“Beg again.” 

“Please. Spencer. Oh god, please. I need it. I need it.” 

“Touch your clit, baby.” You cry out as soon as one of your hands makes contact. “You still can’t come, honey.” 

You whimper, but try so hard not to give yourself over to the pleasure. 

“You’re all mine, aren’t you.” 

“Yes, yours all yours. Only yours forever.” 

He bites out a harsh moan, and you know he’s trying just as hard as you to keep it together. “You look so pretty.” The words are just rambles, almost imperceptible. “Come for me. Come all over me.” 

You do so instantly, Spencer tightens his grip on you to hold you steady as you lose yourself in the feeling. He comes with whimpers and sighs and deep grunts. When he finally stops moving, your legs are gelatinous, so he holds you tight against him, your back against his chest. He pulls out of you and then turns you around in his arms. 

“You’re perfect.” He peppers light kisses across your face and lips and neck. “You did so good.” His hands are wrapped around you, both holding you steady but also keeping close to him. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, and he kisses your lips fully. When he pulls away, you open your eyes and look up into his eyes. “Are you okay?” He checks in softly. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” He kisses you again chastely. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Another kiss and his hands massage down your back and your hips, checking to see if you’re sore. 

“I’m fine.” You answer before he can ask. 

“Did you like that,” he asks earnestly. 

“I loved it.” 

He smiles brightly and you match it. “Are you hungry?” 

“Starving.”

[oddinarylani]

'i just wished you cared about me' arranged marriage skz pt. 2.

pt 2: han, felix, seungmin, jeongin.

w: blood in han's, depression in seungmin's.

a/n: thank you for being patient, the long awaited part 2 is finally here, enjoy.

𝓱𝓪𝓷. ↴

he stumbled into your home still laughing, with the voices of his friends still booming behind him. a second later the door is closed behind him and his laughter dies down into something soft. while your ears have perked at the sound, your eyes raising from the printed page of your book, you stay put in your spot on the couch if just adjusting a bit. he slides the beanie from his head, shaking his shiny brown hair out a bit before his eyes wander to your form. “oh!” he grabs his chest, jumping slightly. the reaction brings a small smile to your face, but you quickly force it down. “why are you up? it’s super late.” he wanders to the kitchen, his voice sounding particularly far away now. your eyes roll, you thumb your book to keep your place. “i know you only go out at night, so i figured i’d stay up to see if you wanted to do something. i didn’t know you were going out.” upon your glance, you see the clock reads four twenty-seven am, and you groan, rubbing your eyes. this wasn’t the exchange you were hoping for. 

when he re-emerges from the kitchen, your eyes scour his form, noticing the purplish lines that are forming in the tender skin of his under-eyes and the somewhat gaunt appearance of his pale-ish skin. you back straightens, “have you been drinking, jisung?” he’s already walking to your bedroom, but he slows his steps to a halt, turning back to lock eyes with you. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

your eyes trail on his form until he’s disappeared completely into the confines of your bedroom, only then do you sit back though still ever-worried. “of course i do, i’m your wife remember?” 

jisung had fought tooth and nail for a nontraditional vampire wedding. he simply refused. it was bad enough your marriage was arranged with little to no say from the both of you on your choice of spouse, but he put his foot down at the idea of a traditional ceremony. you both wore black, surrounded by loved ones yet absent of friends, and you were bound to each other for the rest of your days. your human family was keen on this celebration of conjoining lives, having an option wasn’t an option - so with doubts you moved forward in the marriage - trying desperately hard to make things work. 

a lot of your marriage to jisung was learning things about him through subtle cues - if the environment was relaxed enough it was easier to get him talking about his personal life or interests, though this had been an occurrence three times in the now two and a half months you’d been married. lack of communication was common, hence you not knowing he was going out earlier. you quit your job, finding one instead that could accommodate to nights so that you could actually see him on your off days and when you returned from work, this schedule you were still adjusting to - and it was killing you. you begrudgingly talked to his parents more in an attempt to understand his needs as a vampire, to which they let you in on the fact that jisung wasn’t the proudest to carry on the vampiric gene. with it came a lot of shame for him. he always ate in private, hunted in private, and stretched out his eating periods as long as possible. he could still consume human food, but nutrition for vampires was solely obtained by drinking blood. and as of late, you reminded him frequently of his need to eat, that it was important to him and his existence, and it was absolutely necessary. 

why’d you do this? you cared for him. you had love in your heart for him. which astounded you that you felt your heart pull at just the sight of him, especially when he looked so sad and was probably starving, because jisung didn’t do much in return. he was hard to talk to, hard to communicate with - you hadn’t a single idea of how he thought of you. did he care for you? did he long to mend your new marriage? it was a guessing game. granted, you absolutely had good days with him. happy times of smiling together, laughing together, going out, exchanging gifts, meeting his friends - but the bad times were killer. and they weighed on your heart something fierce. 

a few days had passed since your limited interaction with jisung - you’d seen him a few times in between then and now; before you went to work and after. maybe you hadn’t looked hard enough then, but now. now when you looked at him, you saw it written all over his face.

his cheeks were more sunken in, his eyes tired and droopy and rings of purple circled each eye. was he slimmer too? his wrists looked thinner than usual; and you found your heart breaking at the sight. he was sitting at his desktop, headphones on, eyes lost to the screen before him - every couple of seconds his mouse would click and you could hear cuts of music playing. 

“jisung,” you called. when he didn’t reply or look up from his screen, you called again - this time louder. “jisung.”

he looks up with raised brows, a hand coming to lift his headphone off his ear - you see the glint of his gold band in the light of his desk lamp. “did you eat today?” you soften your voice though you’re mostly exhausted, and with it came a bit of irritation. he chews on his cheek and looks back to his screen. “yeah.”

“are you lying.” you plant your hands on your hips, you notice his leg is bouncing and he pulls his sweatshirt, the one you gifted him, over his hands. “n-no.” 

you glare at him a moment more before walking out of the study. “i’m fixing you a bag.” his voice calls out behind you, “we’re out.”

you stop yourself just as you’ve made it into the living room, and walk back into the room, you lips tugged to the side as you chew on your cheek. there’s a few options laid out in front of you - and you were stupid to think you wouldn’t do any of them for him. you’re in thought for longer than you’d like to admit, jisung has resorted to toying with his somewhat dried lips as he turns back to his desktop for a moment, his headphones off now as he waits your scolding. 

but scolding doesn’t happen, no. instead, you grab an extra chair from across the room and sit down in front of him, shoving your jacket sleeve up your arm with conviction. he sees how tired you are, and hates that you’ve resorted to this for him - in fact it angers him a bit. 

you bear your bare wrist to him, looking down at your arm then once more at him. 

“drink.” 

he pushes himself out from his desk, “i don’t need your help. i can do this stuff on my own.” his voice isn’t overly angry, in reality he was a little soft for that, especially to you. he just seemed,,, tired. and it kind of killed you. 

“jisung- just do it.” you shake your arm once, he stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. his thirst drives the red in his eyes to nearly glow - you know he hasn’t much more self-control before he inevitably gives in. he’s starving. he’s craving it. he’s on the brink of ravaging your arm for christ sakes, and you didn’t for a second doubt that power from him. you understood fully well what he was capable of, you just couldn’t see him like this any longer. 

“n-no! i’m not gonna do it. why do you care so much anyway? why are you doing this?” 

your eyes close, head tilted to the side as if he’s just struck a nerve - well, he has. and you haven’t the patience for it any longer. 

“why do i care? why do i care? i’m giving you my arm to drink from - i’m giving you my goddamn life source because i’m your wife and i don’t want you to fucking die.” you stand up, your presence itself has him taking a step back. 

“i’m doing this because i care. and i care because i fucking love you! i try so goddamn hard in this marriage, jisung. because i believe in-in,, in us!” your brows pull together, eyes glossy a bit - the rage in your heart sours into something sadder and you clench your jaw so tight you feel pressure in your teeth to keep from crying. 

he’s struck. totally. he watches you with wide eyes, watches the way your expression strikes anger than melts into something like hurt. the way your brow thaws together and glassiness shines in your eyes. he reaches a hand to you, the one that bears your ring and you take your arm from his grasp when he takes your hand. 

“i-i,,,” you sigh in defeat, still refusing the urge to cry. “i just w-wish you cared about me.” 

when he says your name it feels like it’s the first time he’s ever done so, you pace around yourself for a moment as you quell the urge to cry, running a hand through your hair. you turn, grounded in his voice as he reaches yet again for your hand - which this time you take. “i care about you so much, a-and i’m really sorry that i haven’t been showing that to you.” 

you let him hold your hand as tightly as he wants, “god i feel like such an asshole,” he chuckles, though the brim of his eyes are watery. “i didn’t think you’d want much to do with me to be honest.” you feel the shakiness in his fingers and you grasp onto his hand. “especially because i’m a… y’know…” 

“but i don’t care about that, jisung. you know i don’t. i don’t give a fuck less what you were if it meant we could just be happy.” he nods, swallowing through his tears. “i-i know and that… that’s why i love you.” he admits. 

you shake your head, “don’t just tell me that, jisung-” you look up to him with fierce, watery eyes. “i-i’m not! i would never-” he shakes his head and reaches for your other forearm. “it scares me… a lot i think. that you won’t judge me or hold that against me but that you support me.” in his grasp he brings you a bit closer, his hands now moving from grasping your own to resting on your upper arms and shoulders. “i’m really sorry that i’ve hurt you.. that’s the last thing i wanted to do. i just got really scared and didn’t… know what to do.” he briefly reaches up to smooth your hair with both of his palms before returning them to your upper arms. 

“you know what you can do when you’re scared?” you ask him, wiping your own face before settling your arms around his shoulders, your palms wrapping around the back of his neck. at the feeling of your hands, he sets his hands on your waist. “you come to me.” 

he nods, “you can come to me too, any time you want. i’ll listen to everything you have to say. and i’ll try to be better.” 

you smile, smoothing your hands down his shoulders. “now,” your fingers dig into the sleeve of your jacket, pulling it up and over your wrist. “please drink. i see how hungry you are, and it’s not good not to. you have to take care of yourself.” the thumb of your opposite hand smooths the soft skin beneath his eye, his brows press together and he softly frowns. 

his mouth waters at the sight of your skin, glowing and pulsating with a pulse that pumps your blood just beneath your skin. he parts his lips, and for a second you see the sight of his wet fangs just below his top lip. “it’s okay, i know you can stop - i don’t want you to be hungry.” 

he gets comfortable, sitting on the surface of your shared bed in the room just next to his study - his hands cradle your wrist, turning the soft flesh over to bare itself to his awaiting teeth. his eyes swim with frenzy, and per your comfort again, he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your skin. your face scrunches up at the feeling of your skin giving way to his fangs, but the feeling of his lips around the wound soothe the ache. soon he’s finished, wiping his mouth with his hand before smoothing his tongue over the wound. “my saliva will heal it over night, don’t worry.” 

“it’s okay. how are you feeling? any better?” he tugs you onto the surface of the bed, his gentle fingers grabbing a nearby bandage to delicately wrap around the bite wound. the sun was beginning to rise now, and you were tired beyond belief. “i do. thank you so much.” he smooths your hair from your head, planting a kiss to your forehead. 

“i really meant it when i said i was sorry and that i was going to try harder. i can’t imagine how stupid i looked to you, god,” he buries his face in your shoulder, shaking his head as you chuckled. “it’s okay. i didn’t mean to blow up that hard - i just… it all kept building up and i really wanted to talk to you but it never felt right.” your hand comes to rest on his head as he burrows further into you, you can imagine the burn of his cheeks and smile to yourself at the thought. 

“well, if we’re going to be married. these are things we have to talk about i guess.” his skin is cool to the touch, you shiver at the feeling. “we can talk about whatever you want too though. like what your favorite color is or why your favorite movie is your favorite movie.” 

“i like pink a lot.” he says, his cheek pressed into the pillow next to you. “why is that?” you wonder. 

“it looks best on you.” 

𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓲𝔁. ↴

oh he was beautiful. maybe not even that; maybe something greater. 

you admired him still but frequently lost yourself to the floaty thoughts in your brain - thinking fondly back to your wedding day. he was dressed in opalescent whites of different shades, the hems of his attire glittered in the evening sun - cuts of sunlight beaming fractals down through the trees to paint his face something magnificent. and his wings. your feet carried you along the forest floor, but your eyes were blown into a sweet expression you couldn’t fight. they were transparent if not for their shining and glittering design - fine lines of sunlight itself swirled and cut into fine designs on his wings - you were starstruck in his gaze. you cradled your bouquet, and though it was now your third time meeting felix in person, his worried and saddened expression turned into something peaceful when you looked at him. despite your arguments in efforts to call off your betrothal, now when facing him, you strangely felt as if everything would just work out. he exuded a kind of sweet energy, even just his smile would bring you happiness. you interlock your hands and despite the circumstance, you can’t help but smile soft while reciting your vows, your practiced eye contact now utterly natural and right. 

you’d been married to lee felix for two months and ten days - and in those days since accepting your marriage, you’d seen him only a handful of times. well, more than that, honestly, but it was easy to blur the days and times you saw him. it really only felt like you’d had a few conversations with him or shared any moments of true transparency or emotional value. he was dedicated to his job, he was. he protected the forest alongside a large force of fae people’s. regulations in the forest were strict - strong. and he took his job very seriously. he spent nearly every waking moment tangled in the trees, tending to her grasses, or playing with the forest creatures to keep the forest happy and healthy, and while you were more than proud of him of his job and his dedication, your marriage was beginning to weigh heavy on your heart. he was beginning to weigh heavy on your heart. 

your job was to nurse saplings and hybrids, you were gone from your home for severely shorter hours than felix was - and while you loved your job all the same as he did his own, you couldn’t help the want for a loving marriage despite the circumstances of it being arranged. you saw him frequently laughing in the trees and vines alongside his colleagues, happily caring for the creatures of the forest with careful and loving hands, and couldn’t help but hope that one day you’d be the one making him smile, making him laugh, and be the fairy behind his loving touch. your heart swells at the very thought - ugh what a lovey he was. pure goodness you assumed. not a bad bone in his body. you just wanted him for yourself, selfishly. 

how could your heart not blossom with feeling at the opportunity to be married to him? he was,,, he was so much. words couldn’t describe the ache of affection you yearned from him. the way he lived. it was profound in and of itself. 

your arms cradle the sleeping sapling of a mother willow, tender palms wrapped around the baby as they slept soundly. your mind snaps back to reality, your eyes fluttering to the small angel in your arms, and you smile at the sight. “precious.” you admire, putting them back into their warm pot of soil to sleep until the next morning. evening was approaching, it was time for you to leave for the day. you float to your bag, your wings carrying you seamlessly to your things as you gather them and say goodbye to your fellow caretakers, returning home to your high tree top bungalow. your home was comfortably secluded near the top of the tree canopy, neighbors somewhat closeby to still have the comfort of community but to also have a nice peaceful feeling of seclusion in your own home. the lights wrapping around your home had been dimmed, you frown at the sight, concluding felix must not be home. 

as you float to the door, softly landing on your feet, you push it open and find the lights are off and evening darkness begins to swallow your home. you sigh softly, pulling your leaf tote off your shoulder to hang it by the door. you pull clips from your hair and pad to your bedroom with your eyes focused comfortably at the floor, thinking no one was home. 

that is until you enter your bedroom to see felix standing in the open space just before your bed, lifting his button-down from his head to peak into your closet for night clothes. “oh-” you jump, clutching your chest, face warming at the sight of his bare skin on display. “you scared me, sorry.” his eyes widen for only a moment before he relaxes into a smile, “oh sorry for scaring you, i should’ve left a note for you. i came home early today.” you beam gently, pulling your earrings out to leave your jewelry in a box at your vanity. “it’s okay! i’m glad you’re home. how was today?” you turn to look at him as he speaks. 

he takes a sleep shirt from a hanger and begins slipping it on. “ah, the watering hole at the east side of the forest edge began growing fungus - so we had the court mages come down to get rid of it. other than that, it was surprisingly uneventful.” his face contorts into a kind of grimace as he struggles to fit his wings through the back of his shirt - trying desperately hard on his own to flutter them through the back only to get caught. you stand, moving to help him as your vision falls to his back - and you stand behind him to gently tug his wings through the back. “there you go, better?” you ponder with a soft worrisome look, rounding him to get a better look. he smiles and nods, “much, thank you.” 

you take a few steps back to sit at the edge of your shared bed, once again getting lost in your head as you stare at his wings. so pretty. moonlight begins to filter in through your bedroom windows and they almost seem to glow. “what’s wrong?” he asks, catching you off guard in your staring match. he’s left his shirt opens as he looks at you, his brow scrunched. “o-oh! nothing! sorry- your wings are just,, really pretty.” you chuckle, hoping to play off any tension or awkwardness. his face flushes a true shade of pink and his gaze falls to the floor, “thank you.” his low voice in gentle in the quiet. 

“but,,” he turns back, now stepping closer to you at a slower pace before he sits down in front of you. his gaze is so concerned, and he speaks as though what he has to say is hard. you match his expression, head tilting only a degree or so. “you always kind of have this expression like you’re thinking,, or that you’re getting lost in your head. do you want to talk about it?” 

your cheeks flush at his notice and you look down to your hands now folded over your lap. if now was ever the time to bring up issues than you’d have to do it. were you going to drag this process on forever? you hoped not. now was the chance.

“you’re… you’re so wonderful at what you do.” you smile again, because you can’t help but give in around felix, but it’s sadder - and he worries about what’s to come despite your compliment. “you’re so dedicated. and i love seeing you smile and laugh with everything you do. with your colleagues, when you’re caring for the creatures in the forest, or when you’re caring for the plants and trees,” you pause. your lips part because you know what to say, you know exactly what to say because it’s been the only thing you think about during the day. and you simply must say it now or else you’d dig yourself into a hiding hole and never bring it up again. “but i wish,, you cared for me in the way you cared for you job. in the way you care for the forest.” your thumb circles the band on your ring finger absentmindedly. it’s become second nature. when you look down to your hand, and see the band on your finger your eyes begin to water. oh not now, please, i was doing do good. 

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, actually.” he starts. you lift your watery eyes and his expression melts, his hand coming up to wipe your tears but he stops himself in fear of crossing a line when really that’s all you wanted in the moment. “i..” he swallows and his eyes get lost in focusing on nowhere in particular in the room and that’s when you notice it. 

his thumb is playing with his wedding band, his nail tracing the metal and fumbling with it just as you did without noticing. 

your lips pull to the side as you try to keep them from trembling. “i wanted to talk to you about how we can become closer. how we can work better as a unit and build our relationship-” when the tears track down your cheeks and you look up at him, he disregards his fear and reaches out shamelessly - his pal meeting your cheek as his thumb swipes wetness from your eyes. you lean into his touch, appreciative of his warmth until it leaves you. his own eyes are a bit watery, but out of shame and guilt. “i feel,, so guilty. for making you feel that way. and i d-don’t ever want to make you feel like that again because i do care for you.” when he looks back up at you, you reach for his hand and rub his band with your thumb. “i care for you a lot.” he chuckles sadly. 

“i care for you too. and i want this to work out.” you reason, now holding his left hand with both of yours. he goes quiet for a second as he dips his head and wipes his face. at the sight your heart swells and you feel a smile over take your face. “y’know on our wedding day, i thought, ‘wow i must be the luckiest person ever to be marrying the prettiest fairy in the forest.’” you chuckle, wiping your face until he laughs through his tears. “don’t say that, i’ll cry more!” you chuckle with him and this time you wipe his face with your thumbs when he can’t get past the guilt. 

“i p-promise i’ll make it up to you. i’ll show you i care for you and that i can be a husband you deserve.” his gaze lifts with your hand as you thumb over his wet freckles, and he now grabs your hands sacredly. 

“let’s work together, yeah?” you look over his face with a more fond expression, watching every small move he makes to wipe his face and try desperately hard to keep the tears off his flustered freckled cheeks. he nods, fiercely. this was a change you already felt oncoming, and as you settled into resting for the night, you laid beside your husband - hands kept to yourself for now as shyness seemed to settle between both of your bodies. 

“i know i’ve been distant and consumed in work,, but i’ve been watching you at your job recently.” his nimble fingers pick at the surface of his pillow, pulling a stray thread from it’s place. your brows raise, a soft look of surprise graces your features as you listen. “oh?” he immediately cuts in, “not like that! i just.. wanted to see you at work but.. i didn’t know how to.. reach out.” his gaze is focused elsewhere. 

“you can come visit me at work anytime. i think you’d be excellent with the sapling babies - they’d love you.” your teeth show in a genuine smile and he can’t help but think how contagious. 

“i couldn’t really think much, except for how stunning you looked doing it.” 

you push your face into your pillow, “you can’t say things like that,, i’ll blush.” your hands cover your face, and much to your surprise, he grasps them to pull them from your red cheeks, looking at you solemnly. “it’s true. the sun was hitting you just right and you looked so pretty,, so happy.” 

he’s holding your hands again, the current if shyness feels as though he’s melted it away, and you reach out to brush a stray hair from his face, “i am happiest when with them, they bring me a lot of peace.” he beams, his wings flutter a bit behind him on the bed. 

“would you want to raise one, one day?” his eyes are wide with the question, as if a great amount of hope rests on his shoulders. 

“with you? absolutely.” 

𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓶𝓲𝓷. ↴

“there won’t be a wedding.” 

you looked up from your coffee, both of your hands wrapped around it’s now cooling porcelain. your heart drops to the lowest part of your stomach at the news, hands steadying for a better grip on your mug. every dream, every hope, all the excitement of the young you, hoping for a beautiful wedding shared with the person you loved, instantly came crashing down in a fury. you swallow, feeling the eternal dread creeping on - up your back and over your shoulders. 

“can i ask why?” you look up to your future husband, finding a kind of indifference on his face, that made your heart sink further. 

“my family has a last minute trip planned for the weekend we originally scheduled - we talked to your family and decided to cancel it.” 

“okay.” 

“i’ll make it up to you.”

for the sake of a legitimate marriage, you did stand before each other and repeat vows of no particular meaning to you - and held his hand as you walked back down the aisle in a white sundress. you slept in the same bed but didn’t know the man beside you, you said goodbye to him for his business trips but mostly thoughts of leaving consumed you while he was away (even though your family would have your head for it) you ate beside him but didn’t speak - your outlook on your marriage was bleak to say the least. 

your own job consumed you of course, the marriage was for business anyway. but you took severely less trips than seungmin did - and mostly worked from home in your office, conducting meetings, discussing sales goals and the like. 

and now, at your age, you came to realize something. that your life wasn’t lived for what you wanted to do or how you wanted to live, but instead was lived out by the expectation of how you were supposed to. who were you even really? and you didn’t have the best example - your parent’s marriage was arranged. and though your mom persevered in saying they were happy, you could easily read between the lines to see they were anything but. 

seungmin had his good moments. 

he was great at his job, very dedicated. he periodically checked in on you but it felt half-hearted. there were a few times he’d sent flowers to the house while he was away. a lot of empty promises on his part though, saying he would look forward to doing something fun when he returned home, only for his time to be taken again.  you’d bury yourself in your work if that was the only thing you could do - eyes filtering over the now dying roses on your desk. 

he was gone now on another business trip, he had been now for three days. in truth, you missed him. or maybe you missed the idea of him. the idea of what he could be to you, and what you could be together. it all felt very misty in your brain, a lot of thoughts you couldn’t dwell on for long periods of time as they stopped making sense. you’d try to sort through your feelings, categorize your thoughts, to better understand yourself - but most attempts remained fruitless. your marriage to seungmin was an enigma - with most of your free time spent alone, all you had to do was think of him. it was strange to admit you missed and longed for a man you feel like you don’t know, but your nights were spent planted on your couch, wondering when he’d return.

your days spent in your new home brought a wave of heaviness you haven’t looked in the eye in years. it was dreadful. every waking moment you fought to stay motivated with your job, but a large part of you hadn’t a single care. not for anything. after work, you’d crawl back into bed and sleep until waking, rotting away in your home. 

until seungmin came home. 

when he unlocked the door and came in with a few small bags by his side, you didn’t raise your head from your pillow, or dare to even wipe your cheeks of the tears cascading down your face - you didn’t care. you didn’t care if he saw, you didn’t care if he had something to say. you only felt the weight. 

he comes into the bedroom, and upon looking at you curled up in your shared bed, wetness glistening on your cheeks, his brows furrow. “what’s wrong?”

you shake your head, mumbling something that sounded like “it’s nothing.” 

he wasn’t taking that as an answer, not with the way his voice drew out and the way he came to sit on his side of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs. “what’s wrong?” he asks, this time a little softer; even just the way his voice sounded made you want to cry. 

you roll to your back, eyes focused nowhere in particular as you muster up something to say. your tears fall into your hairline now, for a moment you feel as though this might be worse than dying. “should we separate?” 

“like divorce? no, no we shouldn’t. what’s,, what’s going on?” he almost wants to reach out and touch you but he keeps his hands to himself for now. the news hits him with a kind of weight he wasn’t expecting; he stumbles over the words that first come to his brain, his composure slowly melting away. 

“you’re never here, seungmin.” your head lulls to the side to look at him. “i care about you a lot. i just wished you felt the same.” your voice trembles on the breath of a whisper, soon your eyes are focused elsewhere yet again - and your lips shake a bit. 

he grasps your hands, and pulls your weight up until you’re resting in his arms. his hold is light - as if he were afraid to touch you but he does anyway. your heart explodes - he holds you because he understands it’s what you need. and you realize, this is the first time he’s ever held you, and you hope to whatever greater source there is in the world, that it isn’t the last. 

“i’m sorry.” he pats your back with a gentle hand, and he feels your arms circle him lightly. “i do care for you.” 

you sit in his hold comfortably, listening to him as he periodically speaks. “i’m sorry i’m never home. the business has kept me really busy, and, to be honest, i didn’t know what to do.” 

you understand more now than ever that, it’s hard for him to speak his emotions. and while it might be awkward, it meant so much more that he was trying. his long sleeve shirt is soft against your palms, you flatten them more, pressing closer to him a bit - hoping it doesn’t make him uncomfortable, but rather it urges him to speak more on his feelings. 

“i assumed you’d be unhappy, and honestly, i wouldn’t blame you. i wanted to try to make things work.. i just didn’t know how.” 

that was, perhaps, the most words you’d heard from him - and you were beyond happy with his honesty. 

“i mean, it wasn’t like our marriage was ideal but i too want to make it work. i believe we can.”

when your bodies separate, and seungmin fumbles with his fingers that peak just past the sleeves of his shirt, you’re both swallowed in a kind of silence, one you wouldn’t label, but one that was loud. “what,, what do you want me to do? to be better?” he asks quietly. 

“just talk to me.”

“talk to you? what do you want to talk about?”

“anything.”

for the next few hours, as the moon hung high in the night sky, you sat in your bed and talked. like people did. like married people did. 

“when i was 14 i got a bone spur in my ankle from working at an amusement park.” you chuckled, seungmin laughs beside you as well. “how’d you do that?” 

“i jumped down onto a platform and i didn’t bend my knees when i landed so,” you mesh your fingers together, “crunch. y’know?” his expression changes to a grimace of sorts, “i broke my elbow playing baseball as a kid.” 

“you played baseball?” 

“i did.”

𝓳𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷.↴

“before you are five people, you must choose a significant other to marry.” were the words spoken to jeongin - words he was expecting to hear, dreaded ones - evil even in prospect. he was raised for this moment, this was one of many he must complete in his family’s line of work. his choices were limited, but this one seemed impossible. his steps were counted, he rolls through his foot, keeps a sharp gaze so his intentions aren’t questioned, not in front of his father, and he looks between the wide-eyed looks that stare at him with hope. not hope of being chosen, no quite the opposite. 

there was only really one option -

you. 

you were beautiful, maybe not even that but something he couldn’t label or put a finger on. it stole breath from his lungs as he raised his hand without a second thought, pointing to your slightly hunched composure. 

“you.” 

it was the first words he ever spoke to you - and you wanted nothing more in that moment for them to be the last. but you knew hope cost very little in your new life. you were unsure of the price over your head for marriage to the son of the leader of the biggest crime ring in the area, but you hoped it hurt his pockets if anything. you were to be married to jeongin now, and that was your life’s purpose. you would part from your family, and move into a house suitable for newly weds, you’d forget everything you loved, everyone you loved, if it meant he was happy. 

you were wedded in a small ceremony, only surrounded by your parents and other members of the crime syndicate. your father handed you off your arm to the man that was soon to be your husband, and you took his hands with a grip too easy to slip. he grasps your hands, soon loosening his hold upon feeling your reluctance in your hands. but it isn’t reluctance in just your physical touch with him - but it’s the reluctance in your eyes. the way light doesn’t shine in them or sparkle, and you speak your vows with such shame it kills him. 

so he vowed to stay away. if it made you happy. 

but you weren’t happy. not really. 

was he? he didn’t know. 

but even from the start, he felt your sadness when you spoke to him, the light still hadn’t returned to your pretty face, well. there was one thing that made the sparkle gleam in your expression, 

painting. 

fuck you looked beautiful when you painted. lost in the color - the washes, forgetting your hands were smeared and wet and that your cuticles were crackling with paints to no wits end but you continued, and you would persevere. you’d surround yourself with happiness and feeling only translated and spoken through the mouthpiece of a canvas, and he could sit and watch you forever, just admiring the way you lost yourself in something for a moment that wasn’t your marriage. 

“what would make you happier?” he’d asked one day. 

you raised your gaze up from the marble of the extending bar of the kitchen counter, your cheek between your teeth. it was a question you weren’t ready for, one that you thought he’d never ask. “i’d like to paint more.” you answered, almost smiling a bit through the dark lines beneath your eyes. 

in truth, you could see the good in jeongin. the reluctance to follow in his father’s footsteps, the boyish, happy energy he so little exuded that you only wished to see more of. yes. in truth, jeongin was beautiful. yet he chose to show it so little. you wonder if it was fear, trauma even - but he seemed so far away, so distant. 

“okay.” it was simple. and a week later, he showed you to one of the spare bedrooms in your home - canvas’ covered the walls and a desk and stool stood in the middle of the room, an array of different paints grouped in boxes and a great big container of brushes sat on it’s surface. you could’ve cried at the sight, but instead thanked him, a number of times, and began on your next piece. 

and after that, he was gone again. all hidden behind stern expressions, his suits and ties and whispers of jobs and missions. you’d lost him again, and damn it all you were tired.

you’d been defeated since you said yes to him, no you’d been tired since you’d found out you were to be married to a stranger. and now, when you felt like things were going somewhere, he was just,, gone. you were sick, sick of feeling this way. feeling like your life had no other meaning than to be strangers, sick of him not talking or trying, just sick. 

so you pushed a blade into your first canvas. you cut through the paint, the flesh of it, cut through the hours, the focus, the mess ups and successes, and you kept going. you dragged the blade through the wooden circumference and threw it to the ground with your hair flying behind you. 

jeongin came in a moment later to hear the commotion - finding a few of your paintings destroyed, tears running down your cheeks, and your form huddled in the corner of the room with your knees pulled to your chest. you were hysterical - like your filter had diminished and your true thoughts were the only thing capable of leaving your lips. 

“i-i-! i-i just wished you cared-!” you yelled. 

he grabs your face, holding steady in both of his hands. 

and suddenly, the only thing you see is him. 

and he was there. there. with his brows pressed together, and his thumbs swiping over your cheeks soft. he was there. 

“i’m here- i’m here.” his voice steadies your heart, his presence centers your attention on him and him alone - and despite the pure rage you felt at him - he was the only person you had. and the only one you wanted. 

your breathing slows, as do your tears, and you lower your hands, letting them rest on his forearms. “you’re,, here.” you repeat as if he’d disappear. 

he nods, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks. “that’s right. i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere, i promise.” he assures. 

he was numbly grounding - he pulled you out of your own head so quick you saw stars and felt whiplash. and now, in steadiness, you grasp his hands from your face and hold onto him tight. “b-but,, why aren’t you ever really here? why don’t you care-” you hiccup.

“because i don’t know how to be.” 

you look at him with an expression only capable of melting, and your face contorts sadly again and he tries. “j-just don’t leave. just try, please? i want this to work because it kills me.”

“i won’t leave. i won’t. and i do care. i really do, so much. i’m sorry.”

though you feel like strangers, and he still feels so far away, you stretch your arms outward and you grasp onto his waist - and in a way you weren’t expecting, he wraps his arms around you, and holds you like he’s known you for years. and maybe in some kind of way, he did. 

“i believe you but just.. can we talk? can we do fun things married people do? like go on dates and watch stupid movies?” your tears fall gently now, rounding the flesh of your cheeks in a way he thinks is so pretty, so unlike how he understood you before. but now, when you look at him, you feel like you see a man you know. one you can trust.

he nods, vigorously as he pulls you from his arms. “i want that, and i’ll try okay? i promise,” his hands grasp your own, “i promise i care. i really do.” 

you nod, now too consumed with teas to speak again, and instead you push your face into your hands and sit back on your legs between his own. he takes a moment to look around the room, finding art even in your destruction. 

“your paintings,” he frowns, standing. he picks one up, stretching his arms out to look at it. his expression is sad, genuinely sad, and it kind of surprises you to see that. 

“it’s okay.”

he looks to his right to see you, swallowed in a tainted sweatshirt, and he smiles, setting it against the wall in front of him. 

“let’s make new ones.” 

i have no concept on whether these are good or not, i've been working a lot and i'm actually sick rn but persevered through seungmin's and jeongin's. lmk what y'all think.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

stories left untold

18+, mdni.

been cooking up this one for awhile i hope y’all like it

readers can expect: fem reader, an established relationship: playful banter with big ‘ol boyfriend jason todd, flirting in a dressing room, car sex, fingering, unprotected penetration (reader is on birth control), a resulting creampie , tw mention and discussion of scarring, it ends a little angsty if you squint

your boyfriend, jason todd, loves literature.

but the only thing you read is him. as long as the two of you are dating, you’ll never want a book.

he’s covered in stories. the scars scattering his body tell you about his past, even if he might be hesitant to. but he humors you, relishes in the fluttery feeling of your delicate fingers all over his massive body.

and sometimes, he’ll tell you the story himself, if you’re lucky.

you’re straddling him, the couch cushions dipping under your knees. you’ve never talked about it, but you somehow always end up on his lap.

jason loves it, because he gets to study you up close, under the guise of you doing the same to him. his hands roam over your thighs and hips, his callouses creating friction against your smooth skin. having you on his lap grounds him, having you so close keeps him sane. you hum as you run a thumb over the scar on his lip, leaning down, kissing him.

“got that one fightin’ as robin-” he starts. you pepper his face with kisses, reaching his mouth again and cutting him off.

he smiles as he kisses you back, pinching your waist and making you squirm for interrupting him.

“as i was sayin’, i was up against some of two-face’s goons,” he continues. “two of ‘em, ironically enough—”

you kiss him again, biting his lip. he groans low in his throat, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“you gotta stop with that. let me finish.”

you shake your head, batting your eyelashes at him. he playfully rolls his eyes, and reaches his own hand up to your face to tug on your bottom lip.

“but i was up against two of ‘em, and while i had it under control, batman dropped in to help me,” he eyes you warily, leaning his head back.

you widen your eyes at him like a warning, a stupid grin on your face.

“but bats surprised me, and one of the goons took that opportunity to split my lip open. thanks a lot, guy, right?” jason pushes his lip out to show you the scar.

“the thing is, i wouldn’t have this scar without the element of surprise, which, in my line of work, is a crucial thing to be able to employ.” his thumb twitches where it’s resting on your waist.

before you know it, he’s spun you around and down, your back on the couch cushions that your knees were just pressed into. a smile plays on your boyfriend’s lips, making his scar dance. he lowers himself over you, flicking the button of your jean shorts open.

round one: you.

he’s following you around a department store as you look at clothes, his muscular forearm supporting the weight of all the clothes you’ve tossed his way.

he lumbers after you dutifully, just happy to be there.

some dude hits your shoulder as you walk past. it was pretty hard, but you don’t even think of it. it’s saturday, the mall is insanely crowded—you’re bound to get bumped into.

you glance back to make sure jason is still following you, but instead catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s staring at the man that shoved into you. you giggle to yourself, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and pulling him away.

he’s still glowering, even now in the perfume department.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say this is you pouting.” you stare at him pointedly.

“people need to watch where they’re goin’.” jason shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

“jay, i’m not some delicate flower.” you smile up at your boyfriend, linking his fingers with yours. he nods, agreeing. “but thank you for looking out for me. i love you.”

“love you too, princess.” his face softens as he gives you a little smile.

you pull up your intertwining hands to eye level. “now what about this one?”

his eyes flash as he realizes what you’re indicating. a scar snakes up the length of his index finger, white and defined against the tanned skin of his hand.

“paper cut.”

you’re in the dressing room now, your giant boyfriend sitting on a little stool next to the floor to ceiling mirror. you twirl, turning this way and that to see all angles of your reflection.

you turn to him, raising your eyebrows. he shakes his head, frowning at the deep blue dress you’re modeling.

you sigh, taking it off to toss it in jason’s face. he makes a choked noise, pulling the dress off of his head. he smirks at your lack of clothing, looking you up and down.

“oh, keep it in your pants,” you scoff, grabbing another dress off its hanger. “so, your finger?”

“bad paper cut.” jason deadpans as he puts the blue dress back onto its hanger.

you blink at him, surprised at the lack of story.

jason nods at you. “a really bad papercut.”

you make a face when you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“no, jay. really.”

he sighs, feigning annoyance. “so nosy!”

you shoot him a look before stepping into the dress, turning around so he can help you. he stands. his hand brushes your ass.

“jay.”

he chuckles under his breath, caught. “sorry, i couldn’t find the zipper.”

“riiiight.” you smile to yourself as he slowly pulls the zipper up your back.

he leans down, brushing your hair to one side.

he kisses your neck, sneaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. good thing, too. your knees would’ve given out with no support if he’d kept up the attention to your neck.

his eyes are on you in the mirror, hungry, tracing their way up your body in this dress. something nudges your ass, and you snuggle back into your boyfriend. he nips your earlobe. his other hand reaches up to your tit, finding your nipple through the fabric of the dress. it peaks at the feeling of his fingers, rolling the nub between his thumb and index. you let out a breath, and watch jason’s eyes darken in his reflection. the spot behind your legs starts throbbing. it sort of jolts you back into reality, and you turn out of jason’s arms. the look on his face makes you want to burst out laughing. you poke his stomach.

“jay, we’re in a dressing room!”

his eyes glint as he inclines his head, wrapping his arm back around you.

“your point?”

he pulls you flush to his body, and the two of you connect like puzzle pieces. you let out a breath at feeling his hard cock pressing into your stomach. you grab the collar of his shirt, and he leans his face down towards yours. he slants his lips, parting them with his eyes fixed on yours. you dodge him, giving him a little kiss on the nose. he harrumphs under his breath at being swerved, grumpy. you wrap your arms around his neck, batting your eyelashes at him.

“take us home?”

“sure thing, princess.”

you turn around so he can unzip you, and you watch him in the mirror. his lips are stretched into a smile. jason kisses your cheek as the deep red dress drops to the floor.

“so i’ll buy this one?” you ask as you put your clothes back on.

he’s got a hungry look in his eyes as he nods, running a hand through his hair.

you check out, your boyfriend tapping his card on the reader and flashing you a smile. the sales clerk is practically drooling. hey, you can’t blame ‘em, but still.

all jason can think about is the way you were looking at him in the dressing room.

he’s contemplating the logistics of installing a floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite his bed when you slide an arm around his waist. his arm automatically slings around your shoulders, and he presses a tender kiss to your hairline.

he grabs the bag from the cashier and your hand with his free one, leading you out to the car.

“baby, what?”

“what? jay, i didn’t say anything.”

“your body language is sayin’ plenty, princess.” he side eyes you, his lips pursed.

“the cashier was checking you out. like, pretty hard.”

jason grimaces as he unlocks the car.

“ew.”

he opens your door for you, closing it after you’re seated and buckled.

he gives you a quick kiss, starting the car. the sun is setting, painting the two of you in a soft, golden light. his hand finds your thigh like they’re magnetized, giving it a squeeze. seeing his fingers pressing into the smooth skin of your thigh reminds you of the conversation you’d been having.

“hey, jason?”

“hm?” he glances away from the road, gauging your expression.

“so what is that scar from?”

“i told you, princess, paper. it’s a paper cut.” the corner of his mouth is twitching, he can’t even keep a straight face.

“jay, oh my god.”

“if you must know, it’s from when i learned how to throw batarangs.”

he launches into the story as streetlights wink in and out of the windows, flashing through the car. his tale involves a much younger batman and a very stressed out alfred standing by with a med kit.

“i almost lost my finger.”

“you’re like, way too nonchalant about that.”

“psh, i’m nothing but chalant, baby.”

you giggle, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drives. he suddenly switches lanes, turning the car into an empty parking lot. he parks, turning the car off.

you look at your boyfriend, amused.

“you are so easy.”

he leans over the center console, pulling you into a deep kiss. he bites your bottom lip, sparking a fire in your lower belly. he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“you can’t expect me to just sit here and do nothing when you play with my hair like that.”

“oh, so chalant.”

he scoffs, scooting his seat all the way back. “just get over here.”

thankful for nightfall, you unbuckle, climbing over the center console to straddle him. you make it onto his lap, feeling his rigid length even through the layers of fabric between the two of you. you cock an eyebrow, surprised he’s already fully hard. jason looks away sheepishly.

“you were bein’ a tease in the dressing room.” he cups your ass, squeezing. “help me out, princess?”

you nod, smiling and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. a nearby streetlight sheds just enough light into the car, as he runs his hands up your thighs, you grinding your hips against the length between his legs. he groans, and you reach down to unbutton his pants. the wet spot in your underwear grows as he nips and sucks along your jaw. he kisses your neck, moving down to your collarbone as you scoot his pants down his legs. he tenses as you brush your hand along his cock, smiling up at him.

“hi, gorgeous.” he says, as he kisses you on the cheek.

“hi, jason.” you reply, looking up at him through your lashes.

your boyfriend suddenly grabs you by the waist, shifting you so that you’re turned around, facing the steering wheel. you make a surprised noise, repositioning on his lap to get your balance. jason groans in response, your ass flush to his crotch. you lean back against him as his hand makes its way under your waistband, brushing against the curls covering your sex.

“may i?” he whispers, his voice rumbling into your ear.

“mmhm,” you reply, desperate for some relief.

his other hand cups your tit, giving it a squeeze. the familiar calluses on his fingers brush your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through your body, but he goes lower, sliding two fingers along your entrance. he gathers the wetness, rubbing your aching folds. his fingers start working between your legs, rubbing your clit in the familiar rhythm he knows you like. you stifle a moan, the pace already bringing you dangerously close to the edge.

“good thing i still have that finger.”

you can practically feel his smirk from behind you.

“oh, shut up.” you retort, shaking your head.

“well, since you asked so nicely.” he replies, punctuating the work of his fingers with kisses on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. jason nudges your legs wider with his, opening the gap of your thighs to bracket his legs. he reaches into your underwear with his other hand, gathering slick on his middle finger.

“all good, princess?”

“yes, jay.” you peek up at him, smiling.

he kisses your forehead, holding eye contact as he slides his finger into your entrance. you moan at the intrusion, growing louder as he adds a second finger. all the while he keeps up his pace on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“that’s right, beautiful. let me hear you.” jason kisses your shoulder, his fingers curling inside you, hitting just right.

you say your boyfriend’s name, causing him to pick up speed, groaning low in his throat. you feel his cock twitch under you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your toes, whining, as it all becomes too much, shuddering as the orgasm crests like a wave. your boyfriend continues working on your clit while you ride out your orgasm. you lean back against him, breathing heavily. he takes his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. he grabs your jaw, kissing you, his fingers wet against your skin. he leans down to take your shoes off, tossing them onto the passenger’s side. he pulls your underwear all the way off, hooking them around the stickshift. he loops an arm around your waist, lifting you off of him to shove his boxers and pants down to his ankles, exposing the muscles of his massive thighs. he sets you back down, and you rub your wetness against the length of his ruddy cock, his tip shiny with precum. jason hisses, his head falling back against the headrest, his eyes closed.

you smile, loving that no matter how often the two of you do it, his reaction is always the same. like he hasn’t been touched in years, like he’s been blessed by the powers that be to have this moment with you. jason peers down at you, his jaw clenching as you grind against him. he scoots down the seat, shifting, taking the liberty to turn you again. you face him, settling your hands on his shoulders. he swipes a thumb across your clit, and you hum, your thighs tensing.

“like that, princess?”

“uh-huh,” you reply, breathless.

“you want more?”

“obviously.”

your boyfriend chuckles at your response, pinching your waist.

“anything for you,” he replies, taking himself in his hand.

jason fists his cock, pumping once, twice, before grabbing your hips and angling you over his length. you suck in a breath as his tip opens your entrance, jason focused on giving it to you slowly, giving it to you so you can take it all. you fist a hand into the fabric of his t-shirt, catching a glimpse of his biggest scar, marring the path of hair from his belly button into the junction of his thighs. he’s never told you the story behind that one. but it’s a harsh reminder of how much your boyfriend’s been through, how hard he’s lived. but he’s still here with you, still here to have these moments with you. he pulls out, only to thrust back in, increasing the stretch. the slight squeeze of his hands on your waist only increases the pleasure, the feeling of being weightless in your boyfriend’s grip only furthers your need for all of him.

“please, jay?”

jason looks up in surprise, squinting at you. you’re not one to beg, and he’s usually not one to make you. he’d give you the world if he could.

“whatever you want, princess.” he slowly thrusts all the way inside of you, still wanting it to be comfortable for you. bottoming out, he groans, grabbing your thigh. “feel so good, baby.”

you hum in agreement, pulling yourself up to find the friction you’re looking for. your boyfriend gets the hint, placing one hand back on your hip, the other with a thumb at your clit. you moan at the sensation, jason picking up the pace. he doubts he’ll last long with how needy you’re being, needy for him, especially in this position. you lean forward into the hard planes of his chest, and his hands find your ass. thrusting into you, fucking you, hard. the wet sounds of skin slapping echoes out into his car, bouncing off of the fogged up windows.

“wet for me, huh, princess?” jason growls into your ear, driving into you harder.

you whine into the crook of his neck, a hand gripping at the hair on the back of his head.

jason grunts at the feeling, nipping and licking at the soft skin of your neck.

“‘m close, baby.” the rhythm he’s found is perfect for the both of you, the angle leaving you breathless.

jason’s thighs flex under you as he finishes inside you with a shout, groaning as he plants a warm kiss on your lips. you lean back, and his hand finds your clit again, circling the sensitive nub. he thrusts into you, hissing through his teeth. your back arches as your second orgasm rocks you, leaving you moaning and panting.

your boyfriend can’t take his eyes off of you, off of your fluids mixing on his cock. jason kisses you, swallowing your sounds as his tongue finds yours, swiping through your parted lips. he rubs your back as you nestle against him, the two of you breathing heavily.

round two: you.

some part of him, some deep, dark part, worries that one day he’ll tell you the story behind one of his scars, and it’ll scare you away. it’s not rational, he knows that, but who said anything about being rational?

you’ll never actually push him for a story, or an explanation, knowing he’ll tell you in his own time.

you doubt he’ll ever tell you the story behind his biggest scar, the one that runs up the length of his chiseled torso, branching off across his chest to his shoulders in a Y shape.

once when you were laying in bed together, talking, cuddling, kissing, you traced it with your fingertip, following the line of it down to his waistband. you stopped when he drew in a breath, pulling your hand back. the acute pain expressed in his eyes surprised you.

you tried to apologize, eyebrows pinched, wondering why he looked like he was in pain when the scar was long healed.

jason was panicked, his heart fluttering behind his ribcage at the prospect of confessing his biggest secret to you. he couldn’t tell you, even though he knows he should. he wouldn’t even know where to start, even though he knows he should at least start somewhere. he just wouldn’t know how to tell you that he’d died and come back to life.

so he kissed you instead.

your mind rushed with thoughts as you wrestled with making him explain or letting him distract you with his lips, his body over yours, his huge forearms bracketing your head. he nudged your legs apart with his knee and you were hopeless.

round three: jason.

[nostalgebraist]

Steve DeCanio, an ex-Berkeley activist now doing graduate work at M.I.T., is a good example of a legion of young radicals who know they have lost their influence but have no clear idea how to get it back again. “The alliance between hippies and political radicals is bound to break up,” he said in a recent letter. “There’s just too big a jump from the slogan of ‘Flower Power’ to the deadly realm of politics. Something has to give, and drugs are too ready-made as opiates of the people for the bastards (the police) to fail to take advantage of it.” Decanio spent three months in various Bay Area jails as a result of his civil rights activities and now he is lying low for a while, waiting for an opening. “I’m spending an amazing amount of time studying,” he wrote. “It’s mainly because I’m scared; three months on the bottom of humanity’s trash heap got to me worse than it’s healthy to admit. The country is going to hell, the left is going to pot, but not me. I still want to figure out a way to win.”

Re-reading Hunter S. Thompson's 1967 article about Haight-Ashbury, I thought: "huh, this guy sounds like he's going places. I wonder whether he ever did 'figure out a way to win'?"

So I web searched his name, and ... huh!

My current research interests include Artificial Intelligence, philosophy of the social sciences, and the economics of climate change. Several years ago I examined the consequences of computational limits for economics and social theory in Limits of Economic and Social Knowledge (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).  Over the course of my academic career I have worked in the fields of global environmental protection, the theory of the firm, and economic history.  I have written about both the contributions and misuse of economics for long-run policy issues such as climate change and stratospheric ozone layer protection.  An earlier book, Economic Models of Climate Change: A Critique (Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), discussed the problems with conventional general equilibrium models applied to climate policy. From 1986 to 1987 I served as Senior Staff Economist at the President’s Council of Economic Advisers. I have been a member of the United Nations Environment Programme’s Economic Options Panel, which reviewed the economic aspects of the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, and I served as Co-Chair of the Montreal Protocol’s Agricultural Economics Task Force of the Technical and Economics Assessment Panel. I participated in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change that shared the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize, and was a recipient of the Leontief Prize for Advancing the Frontiers of Economic Thought in 2007. In 1996 I was honored with a Stratospheric Ozone Protection Award, and in 2007 a “Best of the Best” Stratospheric Ozone Protection Award from the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. I served as Director of the UCSB Washington Program from 2004 to 2009.

I don't know whether this successful academic career would count as "winning" by his own 1967 standards. But it was a pleasant surprise to find anything noteworthy about the guy at all, given that he was quoted as a non-public figure in a >50-year-old article.

[xrenjunniesx]

Hi I love your account can you please write dreamies revealing their relationship with a non idol reader

when they reveal your relationship

Idol!nct dream x non-idol!reader

a/n - I really struggled on this for some reason so I’m sorry for the longer wait

mark

you two were just trying to enjoy an evening at a bar for a friends birthday. the back of the bar was booked out meaning no fans were going to even be allowed in. it wasn’t fans that were the problem, but rather it was one of the staffs who recognised mark as an idol.

a photo of the two of you hugging each other and another one of mark kissing your cheek was revealed to the public and immediately the response was strong.

people you knew were recognising you and contacting you, EVERYONE was freaking out.

mark didn’t know at first until you called him, panicking as you explained what happened. he left his schedule as quick as he could and went home to you, calling the company to set a meeting to see where to go from here. he is rather mature about the situation and oddly calm, mainly because he knew this kind of thing was bound to happen one day.

doesn’t mean he isn’t panicking though.

renjun

he was the one who saw the post revealing photos of you two shopping together. in fact he saw the post before it even reached the general public. he was quick to get staff and his members to try and get the post taken down but it grew more popular by the minutes and eventually it was making headlines.

he called you and talked to you through what had happened. he was trying to be calm because this wasn’t the end of the world but damn did it feel like that as he read through the public’s opinion.

he did see a few positive comments but the negative outweighed them, so he deletes his social media apps of his phone, only posting photos on Instagram every now and then before deleting again. goes inactive until everything has calmed down for his own mental health and his suggest you do the same - even if it takes months.

jeno

you two were talking in the background of a behind the scenes video uploaded to the youtube channel. the editors thought you were a staff member, they didn’t even notice you and jeno hugging in the background that was only shown for a split second.

the clip was instantly being spread around and the youtube video was re-edited but it didn’t stop the original from being shown.

when he saw it he was a little shocked since he didn’t even notice that there was any type of camera in the room at that moment, which was why he was comfortably talking to you in the middle of the room.

you contacted him minutes later after he first saw it, crying in a moment of worry for what this all meant for you both.

he will reassure you but he will also be just as worried and be telling you to be careful if you go out anywhere JUST IN CASE.

haechan

on a live one of the fans asked what time it was there and he showed the fans his phone, not realising he hadn’t turned notifications off. you sent a message at that exact moment saying, “love, I’ll be home soon.” he moved the phone away quickly but he knew he was done for. he laughed it off awkwardly at first before apologising and ending the live.

he called you as soon as the live was over. “BABE I JUST REVEALED YOUR TEXT OH MY GOD”

you’re both freaking out but once you’re home he tries to calm down and think maturely about this. “look… they can’t ALL hate me? I’ll still be able to make music…” He is thinking positively and refusing to pick his phone up because he knows if he goes online he will only think negatively.

jaemin

you were somewhat a youtuber, and in one of your vlogs, in the background as you walked with the camera through your house there was a picture of you and jaemin.

people managed to recognise it immediately and you were shocked because you didn’t even notice it when you were editing. you contact jaemin, worrying what he would say. you speak so fast into the phone that he didn’t even get to say anything until you were done speaking.

“love… it’s okay we can sort this out.” “I am so sorry jaemin.” “it’s okay, I’ll contact the company then I’ll call you right back, okay?”

you both ended up just coming out about the situation and admitting your dating. you take a break from your socials.

the only positive to this situation is that he gets to see you more since he doesn’t have to hide anything anymore. you can go to his place and he can go to yours!

chenle

there was two instances where he accidentally revealed it and he didn’t even realise that fans would connect these two instances. the first thing was when he accidentally followed your account on instagram. he went on bubble not long after he made it seem light hearted, “oh I accidentally followed an account while going through reels.”

the second time was when a fan asked to be daegals mother and he instantly said, “she already has a mother. WHICH is me I’m the mother and father. I’m the only one she needs.” he panicked as he spoke and tried to play it off.

fans put the two times together and looked more into it, figuring out that you two HAD to be dating. the one and only time the crazy fans were right.

he is panicking when he realises fans were figuring it out and instantly gets in contact with both you and the company. you’re a bit more calm over the phone about this than he is but when you see him in person you’re also freaking out.

jisung

you two were seen together out in public. it was really late at night when the two of you were going for a walk to a local shop near your place to get some late night food.

fans approached jisung, leaving you both shocked since he was disguised pretty well in your opinion.

the fans kept pestering you both so you two ran away- literally.

it made headlines the next day, and you laughed at the photos of you running away with jisung. your laughter was really just covering for how nervous and worried you were though. He on the other hand was texting everyone he trusted and getting all sorts of different advice.

he is really worried about what this meant for his future and he might consider a hiatus to avoid having to face the fans for a bit if the response is really negative.

[jahayla-parker]

j j j j j !!!! cardan reacting to y/n wiping his kisses away as a joke hehe

Drama King : Cardan Greenbriar x Reader

Description: 2.8k wc, Cardan is a simp for his wife/reader and becomes very dramatic about her wiping away his kiss. Fluff

Warnings: simp behavior lol, Cardan drinking, minor angst if you squint

“Darling, have you seen my notepad?” Cardan asked, entering their library.

Y/n placed her palm against the page she was on in her book as she looked around her desk.

“The one from this morning?” She wondered.

She recalled Cardan utilizing his forest green gold-bound and embellished notebook during their brief weekly meeting with some of the folk of Elfhame.

Cardan hummed and walked to her, resting his hands on her shoulders as he began massaging them through the material of her gown.

Y/n shook her head before she tilted it back to look up at him, “No, I’m sorry”.

He sighed but nodded, perching himself on the desk next to her, “what are you reading, my dear?”

Y/n silently lifted the book up from the desk.

Her hand now pinched between the pages to keep her place as she showed him the cover.

Cardan squinted his eyes and formed an exaggeratedly disgusted look as he was the title: The Archives of Elfhame, Volume III.

As she lowered the book back to the desk, Cardan scoffed.

“We have far better tales than that rubbish,” He reminded her, waving his hand towards their massive collection of bookshelves.

Y/n chuckled, “I agree, but as Queen of Elfhame, I should really know this information”.

Cardan gave her a smug smirk as he whispered, “I have a better way to teach you”.

“Hmm and that is?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You'll just have to trust me” Cardan winked.

Y/n bit her lip, and shook her head to clear the unfairly attractive sight before her.

“Me, trust you?” Y/n pondered teasingly, “mmmm…yeah, sure”

Cardan crossed his arms over his chest and let out a loud puff of air, “I'm very trustworthy...”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, because while Cardan -like most of Elfhame- cannot lie, she knew her husband.

He was more than capable of twisting his words so they were vague enough or otherwise easily misinterpreted.

He chuckled softly, “well, when it comes to you”.

Y/n smiled and nodded.

It was true, y/n could always see through his lexicon manipulations.

She smirked and pretended to think about his offer.

Leaning back into her seat, she sighed, “perhaps when I begin to learn about trickery or the royal lineage, you can teach me, but for now I've got to learn this quick if I want to not make a fool of myself”.

“You couldn’t do that, you’re far too intelligent for that my darling” Cardan tsk’d.

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip as her eyes fluttered bashfully, “mm, I appreciate that gorgeous”.

Cardan blushed and stroked her check delicately, grinning at her.

Y/n hummed softly, leaning into his touch briefly.

She sighed as she pulled back, re-opening her book, “I really do need to focus though”.

Cardan pouted, swinging his legs against the edge of the desk; visually bored.

“Why don't you see if Roach or Ghost have seen your notebook?” Y/n suggested, giving him a small smile.

He seemed pleased at the idea, jumping up and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before running off.

——

Y/n had finally started to get into a good pace, actually retaining some of the information when she heard her husband enter the library again.

She tried to ignore him, her eyes boring down at the detailed history on the page before her.

Cardan smirked to himself, silently approaching his wife and leaning his head down onto her shoulder.

Y/n suppressed a smile as he placed a kiss to her collarbone and left his lips there for a moment.

She took a deep breath to clear her head and then turned towards him.

“Cardan,” she sighed, “I need to focus”.

He groaned and frowned against her skin, “you can take a break”

“You know I can’t do that. I need to learn this before Friday” y/n argued.

His eyes skimmed the material and he whined, “but it’s boring”.

Y/n nodded, “I know, but still”.

He pouted but gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving to find a way to kill time.

——

A few hours had passed when y/n heard him enter again.

She rubbed her eyes, feeling them becoming exhausted from the constant strain.

Y/n waited quietly for Cardan to announce himself as she stretched her limbs.

But he didn’t say anything, just came up and wrapped his arms around her, over her chest.

She let herself sit like that for a few moments before the text on the page caught her attention.

As she tried to lean forward to resume her reading, her husband softly held her in place.

He smirked and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Cardan” she whined playfully as she lifted her hand to wipe the slobber off her cheek.

He whimpered faintly, removing his hands from around her and stepping back.

“I really need to focus, no more kisses” she joked, still rubbing at her cheek.

Cardan pouted to himself and left silently, sulking out of the room.

Y/n turned to watch him leave, confused that he wasn’t trying to banter with her.

However, as she watched his overly dramatic exit, she lovingly rolled her eyes and returned to her reading.

——

Y/n slid the book backwards on the desk as she stood up.

Her limbs were strained beyond belief and all she wanted to do now was find her husband and curl up beside him to rest.

She grabbed the book and placed it back on the shelf, dragging her hand down the spine as she hummed.

She was finally done, she’d obtained what she needed from the book.

And now she could spend time with her husband, as he had wanted to earlier.

“Hey, have you seen Cardan?” Y/n asked Roach as she entered his office space.

Roach chuckled loudly, “your husband has been drinking”.

Y/n rolled her eyes, uncertain what was so funny about that, “what’s new?”

“Fair enough your highness,” Roach replied, chuckling when y/n groaned at her friend referring to her by her title.

“He’s been mopey and pouting whilst drinking” he added, a humorous glow in his eyes.

Y/n frowned slightly, knowing Cardan had been bored.

She knew it wasn’t her responsibility to cure his boredom.

Yet, she wished he’d have found something other than just pouting and drinking to keep him busy until she’d finished.

Nonetheless, y/n gave Roach a knowing look as this still wasn’t unusual behavior for Cardan.

Roach laughed and shook his head, “y/n, he doesn't really do that unless you're out of town”.

Y/n giggled softly as she recalled the times her husband would become exceptionally clingy when she’d return from a trip away.

“I’ll find him and see what's up, thanks” y/n responded on her way to check the dining hall.

——

Y/n suppressed a giggle as she entered the parlor and found the state her husband was in.

Cardan had his favorite gold-leafed wine glass in his shaky hands, the deep maroon liquid sloshing out from the rim.

She stood in the doorway, watching him curiously.

He seemed to be writing -or attempting to write that is- something important; his focus clearly displayed on his face.

She smiled, he evidently found his stationary at some point today.

“Honey?” Y/n called out softly, leaning against the frame of the door.

Cardan didn’t answer, just kept writing and accidentally dripping wine onto the table and papers as he did.

Y/n pursed her lips and made her way to him, bending down to see the notes in the candle lit room.

Much to her surprise, y/n found her name written at the top of each letter.

There were countless handwritten letters, and they were all addressed to her.

“Car, what’s going on?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his as he lifted the tip of his writing device from the paper briefly.

“You’re mad” he mumbled, setting his glass down before using that hand to softly move y/N’s off his other one.

“No, I’m not” she argued, pulling out the chair beside him.

Cardan didn’t answer, he just kept writing.

Y/n sighed softly, “Cardan, love, why do you think I’m mad?”

This time he finally looked up at her, his eyes glassy but it was hard to tell if it was from the copious amount of alcohol he’d consumed or his emotions.

Nonetheless, y/n hated seeing him like that.

Especially if it was because she’d done something to make him think she was mad.

She frowned deeply, reaching over and pushing the wine glass further away from them before taking both of his hands in hers.

“Cardan, talk to me” she requested, staring at him worriedly.

Cardan’s lips turned downward as his eyes flickered from the papers, to y/N’s eyes, to her cheek, then back to the papers.

“You wiped away my kiss” he stated, his voice laced with the tone of various emotions.

Y/n nearly choked on the smoke coming from the single candle on the table before them as her jaw dropped and lips parted.

“OH MY GOSH!” She exclaimed, dropping his hands and shaking her head, “you're so dramatic!”

“I am not” Cardan argued firmly, a weak glare sent her way as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That's why you've been moping all day?” She clarified, laughing lightly.

She shook her head, “Car, you know when I'm mad, that's not mad”.

Cardan seemed to think over her words, his eyes shifting to the side as he bit his wine-stained bottom lip.

“Okay, I concede” he replied, looking back at his wife, “but, still, it was offensive”.

Her eyebrows raised as she dipped her head slightly, staring into his eyes, “are you serious?”

“Very much so, yes” Cardan affirmed adamantly, his chest puffed slightly.

Y/n rolled her eyes at his dramatics, “Ca-“.

Cardan stood from the table and kept his balance despite his legs being somewhat unsteady.

“I don't think you deserve my love or kisses right now, l'm sad to say” he declared in a rather formal tone.

She sighed, “Cardan,”.

And just like that, his formal behavior and verbiage were gone.

“Nope” he responded, dramatics back as he pointedly held his head high as he left the room.

Y/n massaged her temples with her thumbs before turning her attention to the mess of notes on the table.

“My dearest y/n/n,

I am terribly sorry for having annoyed you. Forgive me?

- Cardan G. 🖤 ”

“My Queen,

I know you need to learn of Elfhame’s history, but I need to give you kisses. Can’t we compromise?

- Your King”

“Y/n y/m/n y/l/n Greenbriar,

Okkkay so first, I loooove calling you that anyways, you cannot be mad at me for loving you. That is not fair. It’s also not fair to read all day and not be with me. I propose we find a way to make it fair

-Cardan Greenbriar, your husband”

“My dear radiant warrior,

I confess I don’t comprehend why you chose the book over me. I am far more interesting than it is. Am I not? I’m offended you don’t seem to think so.

Sulkingly,

-Yours”

“Y/n, miraculous love,

I forgot what I was going to write. Give me some time.

Oh, right. I’m disgusted that you dared wipe away my love. You could have yelled at me for bothering you. That I could handle.

I think.

But to throw away my kiss, that crosses a line. A line in my heart. And my heart. Oh you get the point.

I expect a formal apology to remedy this.

Expectantly Waiting,

-C.G. Your annoying husband”

“Oh Cardan” y/n sighed, giggling warmly at the letters that she would pin on their wall once the wine stains dried.

She rose from her seat, pushing it in quietly before doing the same with the one he’d occupied moments before.

Y/n blew out the candle, gathered the used and unused stationary, and drank the remainder of his glass of wine.

On her way to find him, she disposed of the unused stationary by placing it on his desk along with the now unlit candle.

She then set his sweet drunkenly written letters on the glass table in their bedroom to air dry.

One of their staff was passing by and kindly offered to take Cardan’s glass off her hands.

So now all that was left to do was to find her moping husband and try to console him; as dramatic as he was behaving or not.

She found him sprawled out on the lounge chair at the end of the hall.

“Cardan,” she whispered softly, “it was a joke”.

“My love is not a joke” he huffed, sitting up as his eyes landed on her.

Y/n sighed as she sat beside him.

Rubbing her thumb over his chiseled cheekbone, she clarified, “I never said it was Cardan. Me wiping away your kiss was the joke”.

He let his eyes wander hers for a moment before scoffing loudly, “it is disrespectful to your King, you know, to do that”

Y/n raised her eyebrow at him tauntingly, “and just how many girls are you going around kissing now your Highness?”

Cardan’s eyes widened as he shook his head vehemently, “I haven’t. None other then my heavenly wife”.

Y/n smiled widely as she felt her face warm, “that's much more like it”.

Cardan sat up straighter, grabbing her hand and playing with her wedding ring, “are you done pushing my love away?”.

She rolled her eyes but nodded, “yes, precious boy”.

Cardan’s cheeks flashed red as he grinned wickedly, “then let's go, my dear!”

Y/n felt him tug her hand as he stood up and began to stumble towards the front door.

“Where?” She giggled, following closely to keep him from falling over, “you’re half drunk!”

“Half sober you mean” he corrected with a smirk.

Y/n hummed moving to slide her arm around his torso to stabilize him more, “and where am I following your half sober bum to?”

“You'll see” he responded simply, a shimmer dancing in eyes.

——

After following him for a few minutes, y/n saw a picnic had been set up beside her favorite pond.

“Cardan?” She asked, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes darling?” Cardan questioned, tenderly removing her hand from his toro so he could guide her to the blanket that was resting on the viridescent grass.

She looked around, her eyes taking note of all the little details he attended to, “what is all of this for sweetheart?”

Cardan sat down on the powder blue blanket, tugging on y/N’s hand to encourage her to do the same.

Her eyes wandered still as she sat before him and smiled.

“I know I was being bothersome earlier, so this is to amend that” he explained, opening the wicker basket beside him.

“Awe” y/n cooed, squeezing his hand as she looked away due to her eyes watering profusely now.

“I set it up before you were so disrespectful of me and my love” he commented, closing the lid to the basket as he pulled out one plate.

“So now I'm banished from it?” She asked, facing him again.

If it weren’t for the joking tone he could hear in her voice, Cardan would’ve -and still nearly did- leap over the gap between them to hold her.

“Of course not” he scoffed teasingly, his fingertips delicately dabbing the corners of her eyes as tears threatened to fall.

He wouldn’t dare joke about it if he thought the tears were anything other than happy ones.

But he knew his wife well enough to tell, and the fact that she was struggling to not smile in order to keep up her pretend offense didn’t hurt either.

“You’ve earned it back, for now” he smirked as he moved his hand and began setting some crackers onto the plate between them.

Y/n gasped dramatically, “oh thank goodness. I’ll do whatever I need to do to stay in your good graces, your highness”.

Cardan rolled his eyes, “and l'm the dramatic one”

“Correct,” she grinned, reaching over and squeezing the pointed tip of his ear before tapping the golden crown resting on his gorgeous curls, “my drama king”.

His jaw dropped and he shook his head but couldn’t suppress his wide smile, “I will take it”.

“Why's that?” Y/n questioned before Cardan slipped a cracker with a slice of cheese on it into her mouth.

“I am choosing to focus on only the being yours part” he admitted smugly, taking a bite of his own cheese and cracker.

Y/n swallowed the remanded of the snack he gave her and bent her back as she leaned forward.

“You're always mine and I have no problem fighting anyone I have to in order to keep it that way” she promised, grinning as his cheeks flushed.

“That won’t be needed my love,” he promised, arching his lower back to match her posture, his lips hovering hers.

“I’m fairly certain everyone knows I'm absolutely besotted by you” Cardan swore before closing the gap between their lips and pulling her closer.

Cardan Greenbriar Navigation

Book Boyfriends Masterlist/Navigation

Main Navigation/Masterlist (All My Works)

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[muffinsin]

Thank you so much for all these great posts. They've been really helping me while my dog is really sick.

I don't know if you've written something like this already, but maybe you could write one where the sisters fall in love with one of the maids from afar but they're afraid to talk to her because she might be scared of them?

Of course! I’m glad you’re enjoying them & I hope your dog will be better soon! :( (give us doggo updates?👀). I’ve mentioned them being worried in a couple of posts, though never fully elaborated I think

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

She’s had her eye on you for a while already now

Never has she dared approach you

Much less talk to you!

Bela’s a nervous wreck when you do as much as look at her

Having discovered you originally after you cleaned her office, she immediately felt intrigued

Bela is, some might say, a difficult person

When maidens clean her room or office, it’s even more dangerous than with her sisters. This is her private area

And she has a very, very specific order and pattern of placing her things. Pencils must be right where she left them, papers even more so

Often the staff mistakes these things. Pencils she left out, shoes she left out, papers meant to be easily taken are moved back to the stash of papers on her desk

Has she hates it! She feels, she must reorganise her entire room after it’s been cleaned

You don’t make these mistakes, though

You clean, and only clean. You respect her enough to view what seems like clutter to others as precision

Pencils are right where they’re left. Clothing is re-folded, and put right where she left them

This is bound to catch her attention. You stand out

Yet, Bela starts to fall in love long after she’s made you her private maiden, the one appointed to only her and all her needs

For when you clean her bookshelf and put finished books- neatly piled so you won’t move those she wants untouched- back in the shelf. Perfectly organised, of course

It’s as if you understand her

And yet, she’s too scared to face you

Bela feels flustered when she once finds a note next to her pile of unfinished books

Recommendations…

She didn’t think any maid really took to reading. Even knew how to. And much less did she assume anybody would share her taste

But, upon following your recommendations, she finds they’re very good!

She leaves them out subtly, to show you she’s read through each and every one of them

To ask you, without having to face you, for more

And you keep making recommendations

Bela catches herself falling for you, and tests you

Sometimes she leaves slips of papers containing quotes

She falls back on her bed with a large grin when you pass her tests, writing the books they’re from, or promising you will read them

Your handwriting is neat too, she notices

Yet, Bela wonders and adores from afar

She watches you work, and eagerly takes in all you do. She gazes, stares maybe even, but never engages

What if you too, will see her as a monster?

Cassandra

Cassandra is intrigued by you the moment you’re sent to the castle for work

The blacksmith. You’re to make her weapons

She’s thrilled! She goes to visit you immediately, having a full list of what she’d like

But-

She’s almost shrieking at you when she comes inside and almost swarms face first into your muscular back

It’s rare she sees someone with muscles at the castle! Though she knows your work technically demand some

She’s by far more flustered than she’d like to admit, and when you begin turning around, she’s quick to swarm away, leaving only flies and the list falling to the floor

Behind a wall and out of sight, she face palms herself

So much for being menacing…

She admires as you work, even if she never allows you to see her

That’s right, the sadistic little middle child of Alcina Dimitrescu is smitten, laying on one of the wooden foundations of the wall, far above you as she watches you work the furnace

Large muscles glistening with sweat…

Cassandra basks in it all, and the warmth of the furnace

She watches wide eyed as you craft her a sickle and dagger, eyes wide when you add a little bit of something to it

No previous blacksmith has ever dared swat from her exact orders

But- it’s beautiful

A pattern at the grip, a beautiful one resembling her swarm

She nearly falls from her lounging position as she tries to get a closer look, and the thought of falling, halfway swarming and landing in your arms is enough to fluster her already

She scolds herself for being this way. Daniela would act like this, not her!

But, she just can’t help it around you. She feels by far too careless and by far sweeter than she is

Then, you start gifting her things

She finds random, little things of metal crafted to her- things she has not commissions

Things that make her stony heart melt

You craft her beautiful daggers with a gemstone as gold as her choker’s gemstone at the bottom

And, something particular that makes her breath hitch

A silver platter, with silver, bronze and copper hearts, beautifully crafted just for her

Not the cliché, sweet hearts. Realistic ones. With a dark metal serving as blood at the top

She swoons at the sight

And still, she can’t bring herself to talk to you for a second reason:

What if you’re scared of her?

While she feels like a flustered maiden merely watching you, this is a harsh contrast to her behaviour around everybody else

She knows her reputation

A monster

The sadistic one, it’s best to stay out of sight

The mistress of torture

She knows, these things are all right. And she’s proud of these titles, of the fear she strikes in all but her family

Yet, she can’t help but feel worried you also see her as such

What if the little gifts and addition you make her are nothing but a way, an attempt, to stay on her good side and alive?

What if you too are trying to save yourself from her clutches?

Daniela

Our sweet Daniela, delusional and naive, yet so fast to fall in love

Or what she calls love, at least

She’s been watching you, love evident in her eyes as she dreamily watches you from her window

You’re the gardener, watering the flowers she loves so much. Oh, she wishes she could go outside and pick some!

But the cold temperature suggests otherwise, and locks her inside the warmth of the castle

Oh, but she watches, head held up and resting against her palms, a dreamy expression on her face as she watches you tend to the plants and hedges growing in winter

White and purple flowers on the ground

You’re wrapped into many layers to keep warm, and she wishes she could merely copy you

Daniela watches every day, sighing dreamily and smiling lovingly as you tend to it all

Her cheeks warm when you look up, yet she knows she is too far up and in the distance for you to make her figure out at the window

What she doesn’t mind is, however, that you are very capable of seeing her when she does not glance at you from her room, high above the ground in the castle’s tower, but from the library

You feel the youngest Dimitrescu daughter stare at the back of your head when you work, and you can’t help but feel flustered

She’s very…adamant on watching you

She stares every day

Oh, and she admires every day

And sometimes, sweet Daniela gets so lost in her daydreams, she doesn’t even notice you look back at her and catch her staring

She blushes wild pink when she, one day, wakes up to flowers set outside her door

The white and light pink ones from the garden, with two purple ones in the bouquet!

She falls even more for you,

Each day she receives another flower, and each day she folds them into a beautiful flower crown

Daniela is sad when they die- she wishes she could just go outside

And her sadness is apparent when she plays with the dead flower petals between her petite hands, sitting once again at her seat at the window of the library

You understand the Lady’s sadness, and Daniela finds herself grinning again when instead of flowers, you bring her a slip of paper folded like a flower each day

You get her!

She yearns to feel your touch. A knight to her, the princess

Yet, she fears- what if she is not the princess, but the monster? And her knight?

What if you are not hers, but a knight sent to slay the beast that is her?

[bluelikebruises]

blue bird cries pt.2 || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: months after aegon's drunken outburt, rhaenyra comes with a question that is bound to change your life. <the hearing and dinner scene> wc: 8.7k tw: aegon targaryen, incest (cause yknow targaryen's) reader is aegon's half sister, unhealthy relationship, angst, bittersweet ending, implied smut, a bit unrealistic because i’m delusional, canon divergence, slight ooc helaena, idk how land inheritance works. part one here!

a/n: there was supposed to be two versions of this but i kept re-writing & re-writing, i wrote about four different versions & hated all of them. except this one of course :) isn't proofread because if i stared at my laptop screen any longer my eyes would melt . enjoy. also! finishing some oneshots for tlous & hotd, so stick around for that taglist: @bibli0thecary

☆━━━━☆━━━━☆

Two seasons had nearly passed, and though you and Aegon disappeared from each other's lives, Aemond and Helaena had become ever more present in yours. A kinship which you hadn’t accounted for, never imagining you would become close to Helaena. Not after all those years of almost ignoring one another—of feeling guilty for being in love with her husband. 

But when one day you were studying in the gardens and she asked to join you, how could you say no? It became a ritual after that, moving from the gardens, to your chambers, to hers, and eventually Aemond’s. You all huddled over your laps, tables, chairs—there was never a surface you found difficult to balance your books upon. 

There were times when you would convince both of them to stop studying, Aemond would always argue but Helaena would eagerly agree to whatever you proposed. Aemond outnumbered could do nothing but adhere to you both. Nights were spent eating chocolates, dancing, and gossiping about the Lords and Ladies at court. Helaena at first did not see the fun in gossip but after Aemond let out a curse word her eyes widened and she giggled and joined in. Her gossip included the horrible embroidery and fashion she saw that day, which you could talk about for hours. While Aemonds was a bit more on the politics of those in court, one subject he hated the most was the Lanisters. 

“Ser Tyland seems to have taken a liking to you” 

You scrunch your face in disgust, “Does he not have a lady wife in Casterly Rock?” you asked already knowing the answer.

Helaena let out a fake gasp, “Oh the treachery” 

You laughed, “No Ser Tyland please do not cast your lady wife aside for little me” dramatically you placed your hand on your head for a pleading effect. Helaena laughed, Aemond smiled and let out a chuckle. 

Other nights you would practice braiding each other's hair, while Aemond sat in the corner of whatever room you were in reading. Once you had convinced him to let you braid his hair without arguing he agreed, sharpening a dagger as you and Helaena braided away. 

You grew to love spending time with Helaena, she always found the most simple things intricate and fascinating. Always timid when someone new arrived at court, always in her own world which now you consider yourself lucky to be able to be a part of. Sometimes you would even look after Helaena’s twins—your nephew and niece, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Though it troubled you to watch them alone, they resembled Aegon more when Helaena wasn’t present. They were living breathing proof of Aegon’s commitment, of his marriage to Helaena. A cruel joke by life, if you were not to love Aegon you would love the pieces of him. 

━━☆━━

The night before Rhaenyra’s arrival the three—five counting the twins—of you were in your chambers. You had pushed all the furniture towards the walls and adorned the floor with pillows, furs, and quilts. 

Aemond sat upon your fur covered floor with his back pressed against the couch you had not moved. Helaena leaned against him as she embroidered, occasionally glancing up to see the twins. Your head lay leisurely on her lap enjoying the quiet fuss of the children. 

Months ago the mere thought of Helaena and everything she stood for was enough to bring you to tears but as you laid your head on her lap none of that seemed to matter. The afflictions of a young girl in love shattered to pieces when presented with sisterhood. 

Your bubble of peace burst when your chamber doors opened, Ser Criston stepped in announcing the presence of the Queen and none other than Prince Aegon.

At the mention of his name you freeze, with a heavy heart you refuse to look at him. Your heart filled with regret and guilt at the words you had spat at him. Instead you focus solely on the Queen whose presence still after many years caused you to stiffen. You stood and bowed as your siblings didn’t even blink. 

“Mother,” Aemond greeted her.

“Your highness” you politely greeted as she smiled at you. Regardless of how many times she tried to convince you to plainly call her step-mother or simply mother, you always insisted she was Queen before she could ever be your mother. But of course to your siblings she was their mother first, any royal title always came second or even last.

“Good, you're all here,” she spoke. From behind her two servants emerged taking the children with them.

You rose from the floor to sit on the couch, refusing to acknowledge the Prince. 

“There will be a hearing on the morrow, Vaemond Velaryon has called into question the validity of Lucerys Velaryon position as heir to Driftmark”

Puzzled, you almost asked what exactly there was to question. But Helaena rested her head on your lap and Aemond placed a hand on your knee which shook you from your thoughts. A move they had done many times before when they did not want you to be upset. 

You think of asking regardless of your siblings' strategic move but your eyes betray you, shifting to steal a glance at Aegon. Your thoughts stop as your eyes meet his, heat rises in your throat and for a brief moment you longed for the feel of his hands around you again. 

Following his line of sight you find him staring at both Helaena’s head and Aemond’s hand. Touches so insignificant yet they were a display of affection you would never be able to share with him.

The Queen spoke, “I expect you all present,” she directed towards her children, “As always Princess you are more than welcomed to join us” she said to you. 

Respectfully you nod, thinking about your sister's homecoming. Her return after six years and she was returning under the most distressing circumstances. 

“Good, good” she comments looking over at the three of you. She smiled, and took her leave. As she left the room you assumed Aegon would follow but he stood still as the doors closed. You looked towards Aemond who seemed unfazed by his brother’s presence. 

For a moment you allow yourself to set your eyes on Aegon again, a smirk lined his lips. And though you knew he hated you, you couldn’t help but admire him. Taken by his eyes a sorrow hid beneath them, his lips that were always tainted by the wine he sipped, his perfectly disheveled hair that framed his face. In a blink you look away trying your best to portray your annoyance with his presence, because though you regretted your words nothing good would come from looking the least bit remorseful. 

You tried to occupy yourself by running your fingers through Helaena’s hair, every strand you stroked felt softer than the last. Feeling Aemond lean towards you, your petting stops looking to see him raising his book to you. He had done this many times, indicating he wanted to share something he read with you. Sometimes they were poems, philosophical passages, or historical facts regardless you always happily read them.

The chance to read the passage was stolen by Aegon’s words, “Perhaps you three should try to not so accusingly look like a harem”

All the beauty that you admired moments earlier had dissipated as you rolled your eyes. 

Aemond placed the book down and looked at his brother, “Perhaps you should try to not so accusingly look like you're in need of a bath. Or do you not know how to bathe? In that case simply ask the servants for help” 

Helaena giggled as she buried her head into your lap trying her best to stifle her laugh. It was a childish jab and yet you laughed silently covering your mouth with your hand. You could see Aegon’s eyes drop unamused, leaving your chambers without a fuss.

“Do you suppose he’ll go bathe?” you jokingly ask.

━━☆━━

The day of Rhaenyra’s arrival you had tried to round the royal family to meet her, but your search was to no avail; none of them appeared to be on the grounds of the castle. Though truthfully you hadn’t looked for Aegon.

As you waited for Rhaenyra your annoyance with the Hightowers grew. Your siblings, following suit of their mother, did not care for the arrival of their eldest sister. How could the Queen so deliberately ignore your sister's arrival? It was an act of irreverence towards the future Queen that neither you or Rhaenyra would soon forget. 

Your annoyance was interrupted by the sound of hooves and the entrance gate rising. Her arrival was met with you standing by the entrance gate alone; your only companions were the King’s Guard stationed outside. 

Watching the carriage stop before you caused excitement to bubbled in your stomach, Rhaenyra was finally here. As she stepped out of the carriage, you shared hugs and kisses. 

More were shared with her small clan, filled with nephews, niece, and your uncle.

After greetings you tried explaining the lackluster arrival party, but she simply grabbed your hands reassuringly. Your nephews and niece departed to explore the Red Keep and you led Rhaenyra and Daemon to your fathers room.

“‘Tis only been some years and you have grown so beautifully” Rhaenyra said.

“You flatter me sister,” you smile, “But if you think I’ve grown, you should see my dragon” you smile thinking fondly of the winged creature. 

Your uncle laughs, “And what is the formidable beast’s name again?” 

“Red Wing” you smiled, “But the Dragon Keepers sometimes refer to him as—”

“The Crimson Terror” he finishes. Truthfully your dragon was no terror, he was simply spoiled and moody. But you would never admit that preferring to have everyone believe he was frightening monstrosity.

Still you nodded and there was a pause in the conversation as the three of you turned the hallway. You suppose neither of them knew how to speak to you—or you to them—years of separation had left you feeling like strangers. Perhaps under better circumstances you could have grown to know them once again. You had very few memories with your uncle, but you remember fondly all the times spent with Rhaenyra before she married and had children. 

“Have they been kind to you?” she asked.

They in question being the Hightowers, the Queen and the Hand

You nodded, “Her highness has always been gracious towards me, the Hand pays me no mind” 

“That cunt” Daemon says. You try your best to hide the laugh that threatened to spill out. 

“He’s occupied with the good of the realm” you say sneeringly. 

Daemon catches on, “Always so courteous, even when mocking someone” he smiles at you.

“Father says discretion is key” 

“Does he?” Rhaenyra asked.

“He used to, after you left”. You had never once brought up her departure even in the short time you corresponded through ravens. Up until your twelve name day it was a sore subject. You had been inconsolable the first year, always being on the verge of tears whenever someone brought up Rhaenyra. Begging your father to allow you to visit her and yet he never did. It wasn’t until years later that you learned why, you suppose it was the milk of the poppy that got it out of him. But regardless he confessed that he feared you would go mad with grief upon your return. A part of you sympathized with his decision, another was filled with anger. Years of separation from your sister simply because of the fears of madness. 

“Ah” she acknowledges her departure, “It was with a heavy heart that I left” a frown is on her face.

“I know. I hold no resentment towards you” you smile.

At your words she returns your smile, reaching to grab your hand, “Your presence is longed for in Dragonstone,” she squeezes, “You do remember that it is to be yours once I am Queen. It would do you good for you to familiarize yourself with it” 

The thought of visiting Dragonstone sounded exciting, considering how you used to sob for it. And the only time you had left King’s Landing was for Laena Velaryon’s funeral, which wasn’t the fondest memory.

“Are you suggesting a visit?” you ask excitedly.

She smiled—a full smile, “More of a permanent residency” 

Oh, her words caught you by surprise, you never imagined or thought of leaving the Red Keep. You knew Dragonstone was to be yours one day, but never gave a second thought to the reality that you would in fact one day reside there. You assumed Rhaenyra would become Queen and you would simply stay in the Red Keep, for what business did you have in Dragonstone? A whole sea away from your father and siblings. 

“A generous offer but—”

She interrupted, “Give it some thought”

On the arrival to the King’s quarters you excused yourself, kissing them both goodbye. Retreating to your chambers you thought of perhaps looking for your siblings but you knew you would not find them, Aemond and Helaena resembled ghosts in that way. Moving through walls without a sound and only showing themselves when they wanted to be seen. 

In your chambers you thought of your Rhaenyra’s offer, of how drastically your life would change if you accepted. Of the distance that would keep you from your siblings, you had just grown close to Helaena how would you be able to leave her? Or Aemond who you had a soft spot ever since you were children.

You wish you could say Aegon was not a part of your decision making, but thoughts of him crept into your head—for a brief moment you wished to stay solely to be able to lay your eyes on him. Even if his eyes stared back filled with hate and disdain. 

Thoughts of your father began to flood your mind. How devastating it would be were he to die and neither of his eldest daughters were by his side.

His voice rang in your head, remembering one of his many lectures. Where he would boast of the Targaryen legacy and the weight of the crown. 

“You have a duty to the Realm, a duty to your house”

What is duty if not serving the ones you love? And your love for family cut deeply, a love so sharp no sword in the Seven Kingdom could compare. You knew regardless of your decision you were going to bleed. 

“A Targaryen must always reside in Dragonstone” 

━━☆━━

The night was spent thinking, you had all but made up your mind as you entered the Great Hall. 

The hearing was to start in a matter of moments, you walked greeting the Lord’s and Ladies of court. Who were here for no other reason than for a show, to watch your family momentarily stumble or if they got lucky, fall and become ordinary like the rest of them.

In a matter of moments you stood at the front of the hall next to your sister and uncle, your nephews and niece standing behind you. 

“Let us get this over with” Daemon huffed in annoyance. 

Standing next to Rhaenyra you spoke in hushed voices, she was insistent this was a ruse. By stripping Lucerys’ claim as heir to Driftmark they were questioning the legitimacy of her own claim. She was sure Vaemond and the Hand had aligned themselves and created this plan. And though you tried hard to pay attention to her words, the only thing you could think about was whether you had made the right choice or not. Selfish thoughts on a day that was detrimental to your sister and your house.

Though you were deep into the conversation with Rhaenyra the arrival of your siblings had not gone unnoticed by you. Thoughts of uncertainness were briefly paused as the same annoyance from yesterday crawled up your skin. You spotted Aegon trailing behind Aemond and Helaena. 

You wanted to walk over and question why they had not been present upon Rhaenyra’s arrival. 

But couldn’t talk to them in good conscience knowing you were teetering with the possibility of leaving. And a hearing that called into question the legitimacy of your nephew was no place to inform them. 

Besides there was a part of you that knew why none of the Hightowers had shown up. The rivalry between Alicent and Rhaenyra was one that had grown roots and solidified itself over the years. A rivalry you knew was encouraged by Otto and had been passed down to their children and because you were neither of their children you did not participate in their hostility and aversion. 

When a silence washed over the throne room you braced yourself for what was to come. The thick doors of the hall opened revealing Vaemond and his banner men. Vaemond walked into the Great Hall with an aura of unbotheredness and ease, almost as if he knew he would come out victorious. 

When he began his petition you watched your sister and uncle, both of their brows pressed tightly on their faces. Jace and Lucerys stood behind them, little Lucerys doing his best to keep his head held high. The longer you looked at them, the easier the decision seemed. 

You wish you could say you were attentively listening to the concession before you but you would be lying. Your attention was stolen by Aegon, who did nothing but stand besides Aemond looking bored, tired, and unimpressed. You stared at the intricacies that were the features on his face wondering what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all. 

As your eyes raked over him his eyes stared back, in a blink your eyes were at the front of the room. Refusing to meet his gaze pretending you were not just gawking at him during one of the most important meetings of your sister's life. 

To make sure neither your gaze or thoughts slipped towards Aegon you slid next to Lucerys. Who you were sure was nervous about the current proceeding, alleviating some of his nervousness would do you both some good. 

Just as Rhaenyra began her petition the doors of the throne room opened, guards announced the arrival of your father. 

Any thoughts you had before were pushed to the side as your benevolent father who by some miracle or sheer will made his way into the room. In slow strides he approached the Iron Throne.His arrival had taken the room by surprise but no one looked more surprised than Vaemond, who looked between Otto and the approaching King. 

The King had some trouble walking up to the throne, dismissing the guards who tried to help him and as your uncle helped him up the petition continued. At the wishes of Rhaenys the King reaffirmed Lucerys claim as heir to Driftmark. You smiled at your nephew reaching for his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. 

Vaemond of course was displeased and didn’t bother hiding it, his words were filled with venom and hatred. Daemon was staring daggers at the man, fire burned in his veins, you were sure of it. Then you caught his eyes landing on Rhaenyra, they glanced at one another in a blink she gave him a small nod. If you did not know her as well as you do, you would have thought nothing of it. Was it a nod of approval? of permission? Of agreement? There was no time to wonder as Vaemond angrily spun and pointed at Lucerys. 

”That is no true Velaryon” 

You moved in front of Luce, shielding him from Vaemond.

“And certainly no nephew of mine” 

Rhaenyra ordered the boys return to their chambers but neither of them moved. 

“You have said enough” she directed at Vaemond. 

“Lucerys is my true born grandson, and you no more then the second son of Driftmark”

“You may run your house as you see fit but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides” he turned towards Lucerys but when his eyes did not land on him he looked at you. His eyes bore into yours as you refused to stand down, refused to give him access to view your nephew. 

“And gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this—“

There was a pause in not just his words but the room as well. Then the words boomed out of Vaemond’s mouth. Bastards, a whore. Your eyes widened, the room was stunned. Lucerys hand became an anchor, for if not you would have pounced on Vaemond and tore him to bits. 

“I will have your tongue”

Then in one swift movement Daemon was behind Vaemond, his sword in his hand. In a blink you saw red and half of the man's head on the floor. 

Finally able to pull your eyes away from the corpse you made sure your nephews and niece were okay. They looked shocked, a bit shaken but good nonetheless. Your eyes made their way to the other side of the room where your siblings stood. Helaena looked frightened, Aemond intrigued his eye following Daemon, Aegon looked shocked, his eyes on the body then for a second time during the hearing caught yours. 

“He can keep his tongue” Daemon wiped the blood off Dark Sister, quickly guards surrounded him. 

“No need” he nonchalantly wiped the blood of Dark Sister returning to Rhaenyra’s side. 

You had heard stories of your uncle’s rash behavior from your father before, but hearing about it and witnessing were different things. 

━━☆━━

Dinner came in the short hours after the sun had set. Candles and torches lit the dining room, light chatter was being swapped by all as everyone anticipated the arrival of the King. 

You stood with your nephews and their soon to be brides, chatting about how their travels had fared them, how life was in Dragonstone and King’s Landing, and how they wished they could see you more. 

Though you had enjoyed your life in the Red Keep you missed your nephews. Their little faces and big eyes, all but nearly convinced you to take permanent residency in Dragonstone. 

Looking forward you spot Rhaenyra in her seat, she looked rigid and uncomfortable looking straight ahead. Coincidentally the Queen was seated in the same manner, they both looked awkward and stiff. You knew words went unsaid between them, how could they not since the last time they saw one another was the night Aemond lost his eye and the Queen cut Rhaenyra. 

The doors of the hall opened, guards stepped in carrying your father on top of his chair. Everyone stood with their hands clasped in respect for the King. 

As everyone sat the tension in the hall could be cut with a butcher's knife. You wished to sit beside Rhaenyra but knew you couldn’t due to her husband. It seemed every couple in the room was sitting side by side. The only exception to this couplet seating arrangement were you and Aemond. You had assumed you would be sitting next to one another since neither of you were wed, but there was no chair beside Aemond. The last empty chair sat right in front of your father, of all seats in between Jace and Aegon.

Rasp coated your fathers voice as he spoke, “How good it is,” he inhaled, “to see you all tonight, together” he looked at everyone around the table. You smiled as his eye landed on yours. His sight of the table ended as he longfully stared at Rhaenyra. Who held his gaze until the Queen looked at her, her eyes shifted to the intricate spread that was on the table before her. 

“Prayer before we begin?” asked the Queen. Leaning into her your father agreed

You had grown accustomed to the overcompensation of the Queen ever since the night of the incident. To lessen the rumors that she was mad she began to worship The Seven, heavily. Their symbols began to become increasingly prevalent all throughout the Red Keep. You simply went along with it considering your father did not care, perhaps due to his old age. But if it didn’t bother him, it didn’t bother you. 

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena,” your nephews and their bride smiled gleefully, “Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes . . . and their betrothed”

You lifted your cup smiling at the couples.

“Hear, Hear!” your uncle Daemon says.

Placing your cup on the table Aegon leaned towards you, your body tensed at his closeness. Unsure of what to expect, you didn’t move. So when he acted as if you weren’t there and pestered Jace you nearly pushed him away. 

Nearly, pushing Aegon would require your hand to touch his chest. An act so miniscule, that wouldn’t mean anything to most, a shove, a push, it was an ordinary action. Yet touching him felt like an illicit affair. 

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman”

You roll your eyes at his words thinking about how unbelievable he was. Baela looked at Aegon disapprovingly, as if to ask him what his nerve was. Quite aggressively Jace set his wine cup down, ready to retaliate but your father spoke. 

A toast was called in honor of Lucerys, forgetting about Aegon’s crude words you picked your cup enthusiastically towards Luce.

Watching your nephew you thought if he could accept his role as heir to Driftmark at his young age, surely you could accept your own fate. 

Your thoughts of your fate were cut short as again Aegon leaned over, you swallowed every fiber in your body telling you to push him away. Inciting violence was not what you wanted to do on this night. You looked around the table to see if anyone noticed, no one batted an eye except Aemond. 

“You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that” 

Aegon never did know when his jokes were in bad taste. Always poking and prodding until he got an explosive reaction from the other person. 

“Let it be cousin” 

“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed and my aunt” 

You smiled at Jace’s act of protection, the gentleman that he was.

“Hm. Your aunt” Aegon said as if contemplating the concept of the word. 

You shot him a glare annoyed at his stupidity and his little verbal stunt, “Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your dinner little brother”, you forced a polite smile. His eyes looked up at yours before he turned his attention to his cup of wine. 

Your father’s cane hit the floor, and you saw him struggling to stand, his breaths heavy and strained.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world . . . yet grown so distant from each other in years past” he looked down trying to remove his mask, struggling. A look of unease painted the Queen’s face as if bugs were crawling up her skin. The mask dropped onto the table with a ‘clunk’.

You had only once seen him without the mask once, the night you had sat at his bedside reading. You thought he could not hear you, but as you mispronounced a word he laughed. Asking if you had always pronounced it that way, sheepishly you admit you had. He laughed in a way you hadn’t heard in years. In all his movement the mask slid down his face onto the bed, barely holding onto his face. He asked you to not be frightened by his appearance, you told him you never would. 

Free of the mask he turned to look towards Rhaenyra’s side of the room; they all started silently. If they were alarmed or frightened they didn’t show. Turning to your step mother’s side you saw Aegon’s head dip, not daring to look at your father, you almost laughed. Helaena kept her eyes on her fingers, Aemond stared eagerly; he always was captivated by the macabre.

“My own face . . . is no longer a handsome one . . . if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king but your father, your brother” he turned towards Daemon, “Your husband . . . and your grandsire. Who may not it seems walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all, so dearly”, he sat back down practically falling onto his seat. 

The room stilled until Rhaenyra stood with her cup raised.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen” she looked towards her, “I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife” she paused, “She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that she has my gratitude and my apology” 

Her words took you by surprise, it had been years since the Queen and Princess spoke to one another, least of all kindly. 

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow” she stood, “I raise my cup to you and to your house” and as if the words were hard to say she paused, “You will make a fine Queen”

Happily surprised you smiled at Rhaenyra, you hoped their cups were a step in the right direction, perhaps a hopeful future lay in front of them.

“To the Queen and the Princess” you raised your cup drinking from it as did everyone. Aegon practically downed his cup, then he glanced over to you, you pretended not to notice. Even when he stood and walked in between Jace and Baela, Aemond’s eye followed him.

With every brief look at Aemond or Helaena, you wondered when it was best to tell them about the decision that laid at your feet. To involve them in your decision would alleviate your guilt, but it would also mean they would try to convince you to stay. 

Your thought came to a sudden stop as Jace stood slamming his fist against the table. You hadn’t heard what Aegon had said but you knew it was unrefined. When Jace cleared his throat Aemond stood, the table quieted, all eyes looking at them both.

Inhaling Jace grabbed his cup, “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen eachother in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles” 

“To you as well,” Aegon said annoyed, sinking back into his seat. 

Turning to Jace you laugh, “Nicely done” you made sure to say it loud enough that Aegon would hear you. 

Then Helaena stood, it seemed everyone was raising their cups tonight. Aegon sat forward with his hands clasped as his head rested on them, clearly embarrassed by Helaena. Gods if you could strangle him you would. 

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you” Aegon vexed, didn’t bothering to look at her, “except sometimes when he’s drunk” 

You heard the laugh of your uncle clear as day, which caused you to laugh. 

“Let us have some music” 

Jace stood asking Helaena to dance, she looked up to Jace who had his hand out then to you almost as if asking if she should. You smiled in response then she smiled and took Jace’s hand.

As Helaena stood you caught Aegon rolling his eyes, his jaw tightening as if upset. 

His own upsetness almost made you roll your eyes. The hypocrisy of Aegon to claim all Helaena was good for was bearing his children and yet be upset by a simple dance. 

Feeling brave and in the mood to serve Aegon a taste of his own medicine you tease him, “Come now little brother cheer up, ‘tis not like you would ever dance with your lady-wife” 

He didn’t look at you, his eyes looked everywhere but you.

“Yes but she is mine. Perhaps you’ve forgotten with the whispering you three get up too” he sipped from his cup as he looked at Aemond. 

“Jealous little brother? That we have stolen our sister from you” he didn’t respond. You smiled leaning back into the wooden chair. 

His lack of response solidified that you had gotten under his skin.

Your fathers painful moans echoed through the hall, guards quickly came and took him away, Out of respect for the King you stood along with Rhaenyra and Daemon. 

“Please, sit” the Queen begged. 

You didn’t listen as you saw Lucerys from the corner of your eye snickering. Following his eyesight you saw Aemond with a roasted pig in front of him, immediately you understood.

Aemond slammed his fist against the table as he stood, Jace and Helaena stopped their dance. 

“Aemond”, you shook your head. He looked at you but his stubbornness never allowed him to listen. 

“Final tribute” his cup raised everyone's eyes on him, “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise,” he paused and you could feel it, his next words would be no good, “Strong” 

“Aemond,” the Queen pleaded. 

The room had gone momentarily still.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three . . .” enthusiastically Aegon raised his cup in the air, “Strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace threatened.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment”

Angrily they both approached each other. You almost laughed thinking about how you did not want to cause a scene during dinner and there Aemond was; causing a scene. In a blink Jace hit Aemond square in the jaw, beside you Lucerys rose, Aegon followed towards him they were both out for blood. Immediately you follow Aegon, seeing him grab Lucerys and throw him against the table towering over him. 

“Aegon that is enough!” you heard the Queen say. 

You grabbed Aegon pulling him off your nephew, digging your nails into his skin. 

“Don’t touch him,” you snapped. You stood in front of Lucery's protectively as Aegon retreated with a smirk and his hands held up. 

“Looks like the princess has come to your rescue. Again, first Vaemond and now I” he snickered, “Is the princess going to hold your hand again? Can’t fight your own battles, nephew?”

“Pay him no mind Lucerys, he’s a drunk and now it appears also a coward” 

His hands came first and you almost think there will be a repetition of what occurred in his chambers. But instead his hand grabs your face, his index and thumb squishing your lips together as his fingers pressed against your cheek. His hands were made of an iron grip, you could feel his middle finger under your chin. 

“Watch your tongue, sister,” he warned. His eyes filled with a different rage than you remember, grief was woven into his anger. His lips stained red from the wine, gods did you want to taste it. 

“Perhaps you should release the princess, lest you do not care to keep your hands”, Daemon said, looming behind you. Aegon kept his eyes on you, they quickly trailed to your lips as his hand dropped. With a final look he turned and retreated to the opposite side of the room. 

Baela and Rhaena stood ready to lunge at Aegon, luckily for him two guards held them back. Lucerys moved towards his brother both ready to fight their uncle’s, guards also restrained them

Checking on both your nieces you hadn’t heard what Aemond had begun to say.

“Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs” he stalked towards Jace who had freed himself from the guards' grasp and stalked towards Aemond. 

“Wait, wait!” called Daemon, stepping in front of a charging Jace. With no other option Jace retreated back. 

“Go to your quarters. All of you, now”, Rhaenyra commanded before looking at you, “Pack your belongings we leave at sunrise” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. The decision had been made for you and you understood why, there was too much animosity between your opposing families. Rhaenyra would no longer allow you to be caught in the center, you had been in the Red Keep without her for far too long.  

You nodded and with a heavy heart retreated to your chambers, unable to meet anyone's gaze. The walk to your chambers was sullen and with your head hung low you pushed open your doors. 

Afraid of the sadness that would engulf you at the thoughts of leaving both Aemond and Helaena you began to pack quickly. Tossing clothing onto your bed, emptying drawers by shaking them, piling your favorite books by your feet. 

The hour was quite late when you had finally gotten about half of your items packed. A sigh left your lips looking at the pile you still needed to sort through. 

But before you could even begin the doors to your chambers burst open. Rushing in was Aemond and Helaena both looking angry and distraught. 

“You’re leaving?” Helaena spoke first looking at the mess of dresses, riding outfits, books and trinkets that laid on your bed. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he looked at you, “You planned to leave? And with no intention of telling us?”

“I was—I was. But then dinner turned into—I wasn’t even sure whether my departure was permanent or not” you alluded and his eye momentarily looked to the floor, “I just forgot” 

“How long have you known?” Aemond asked.

You take a breath, “Rhaenyra proposed the thought on the morning of her arrival” you say twiddling with your fingers

He scoffs, his mouth agape in disbelief, “Since when has she cared about your position as heir? When was the last time you received ravens from her? Or gifts for your name day? She abandoned and forgot all about you” 

“Aemond,’tis my duty as heir of Dragonstone” you try to reason, not wanting them to be upset with you. 

He shakes his head, “No, I will not stand for this” 

Helaena neared, your name gently falling from her mouth as she took your hands. She smiled at you, “If you want Aegon, have him. Please just stay” 

Your once beating heart stopped, your blood ran cold, shocked, your eyes widened at her words. Never once did you dare think anyone least of all Helaena knew of your transgressions with Aegon. How foolish of you to think Helaena was blind to it all. To your sudden cold shoulder and avoidance of Aegon. Of course she knew, still you wonder if she knew of the kiss—of the love confession—of Aegon’s hands wrapped around your throat. 

 “You think I have not noticed the longing looks that wash over your faces. He's my oldest brother I will always love him, but as a husband I hold no love for him” 

There was no time to process her words because as if on cue the doors to your chambers opened, revealing Aegon. A laugh almost escaped your lips, surely the gods were playing a gag on you. 

His eyes raked through your chambers searching for answers, “So it is true then, you are to leave?” he asked

“Yes” you simply say

“So our eldest sister can just show up and pluck you from us” 

Us. Since when was there an us?

“She is not plucking me” you retorted defensively.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “She has convinced you to leave under the guise of heritage”

“A heritage that is also yours”

“Hardly”

Your eyes shifted but their’s never did, all eyes were on you and it made you want to crawl into a hole and never return. Desperation, hurt, and betrayal painted their faces.Unable to handle it you plead, “This is my duty. Why can’t any of you see that, we all have a duty, this is mine” 

“You think your duty is to live in that desolate hellscape?” Aegon snapped. 

“That desolate hellscape is our ancestral home and I have been chosen to maintain the tradition, it was bound to be one of us” 

He scoffs, “She’s using you and you are too blind to see it. You’re nothing but a pawn in her game. A means to an end” 

Your eyes narrow ready to unleash another berate of words at him, but Aemond cuts in.

“He’s right” 

For a third time in the night your eyes widen. Disbelief at the word that came from Aemond’s mouth. Aemond who would roll his eyes whenever Aegon entered a room, who never took anything he said seriously and who certainly never agreed with him. 

“Rhaenyra only beacons you to Dragonstone to show strength in her claim as heir” 

“There is strength in the claim it is the King’s proclamation”

Aegon rolled his eyes and Aemond huffed turning away from you. Your eyes caught Helaena’s, she looked worriedly at you. 

“Do you believe I am a means to an end?” 

“There is a reason for everything” she plainly stated 

You were not blind to politics, you knew how her invitation would look to all those who whispered about Rhaenyra in the halls. It would appear to be a strategic ploy since having you by her side showed that you supported her right to rule. You didn’t ponder if there was any truth in the thought. You had thought about it all night before the hearing but a part of you desperately wanted to believe the invitation was genuine, that Rhaenyra had your best interest in mind. That she was not just beckoning you because it would benefit her.

To hear your siblings so openly agreeing that they thought you were being used both angered and saddened you. They had never been kind to Rhaenyra, never gave her a second thought yet they stood in your chambers declaring she was using you for her own means. 

“Out. All of you” they didn’t move, “Get out!” 

Helaena was the first to react, she visibly recoiled at your shout, her eyebrows raised as she looked at Aemond who looked at you once more before leading Helaena out. 

Aegon followed but instead of exiting he closed the doors, turning towards you, “I have left you alone to gallivant with our brother and my wife and yet you still punish me” 

“My departure is not your punishment, there is no punishment” 

“And still you injure me” he enunciates every word, his hands pointing inward at himself. 

You sigh, like his drunken stupor Aegon was no better sober–no more understanding or thoughtful. 

“Injure you?” you laugh, “You wrapped your hands around my throat, you cut off my breathing and yet you speak of injury” 

Guilt washed over you knowing you were in no position to chastise him, but his belief that his hurt out weighed yours angered you.

His eyes shifted to the rings on his fingers twiddling them,“T’was a regretful incident”, his eyes slowly came back to yours. There was glint in them, regret perhaps the facing of a truth he was denying. 

You don’t respond, continuing to sort through your items. A moment passed before either of you spoke.

“Are you to leave and never return? Is this the last night I will lay my eyes on you?” 

“Of course not, I’ll return for Rhaenyra’s coronation, for name day celebrations, festivities, hearings”

His eyes harden, “And who’s to live with you in Dragonstone after our sister and her clan return to King's Landing?” 

You freeze, his question had caught you by surprise, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead. 

“Will you reside alone with nothing but servants to keep you company?” He takes a step towards you standing on the opposite side of your bed.

“Alone or not I will be fulfilling my duty” 

He laughs, “You speak of duty yet if you truly cared about your self-proclaimed duty you would be wed by now”

Your patience was running thin and emotions high, “And who am I supposed to wed Aegon? Some Lord who sees me as an opportunity to be close to the crown. Marriage may mean nothing to you but I will wed someone I love”

His head drops towards the floor before it raises again, “Did you not confess to me in my chambers?”

You scoff, “I confessed because your hands were around my throat, because I could not breathe”

“You have never been a good liar”

Of course you knew that, but to stand before Aegon and confess your love again would add to your betrayal and how could you do that to Helaena again when she knew. Your treachery would stop at allowing Aegon’s lips to fall on yours, you would not make the same mistake twice. 

“If you are to continue pestering me–I ask that you leave” 

He didn’t respond and you didn’t bother looking up, continuing packing your trinkets.

“Did you mean it?” 

You look up, taken aback unsure if you had correctly heard him. His eyes stared back at yours searching for answers, they looked almost pleading, pathetic in a divine way. 

Opening your mouth to speak felt near impossible while he looked at you, “Aegon . . . “ you pleaded rather roughly.

“I want to hear it from you,” he paused.

“Was once not enough? Must I rip my heart out and show it to you? We are not children anymore this game you are playing has to stop” 

“This is not a game to me”

“You treat it as such”, he walks around the bed stepping towards you. His messy hair framed his face like it always did, loose strands falling over his left eye. 

When he was close enough that you could reach towards him you thought he would stop but he did not. He kept walking in slow strides, you nearly trip over your own books stepping backwards. 

You should have ran, placed some distance between Aegon but you couldn’t move, stuck in a trance that was Aegon’s eyes. A trance that was momentarily broken as your back hit the cold stone wall.

“Don’t go”, his eyes are imploring, so close you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke. You wanted nothing more than for him to leave, to make your departure easy because the longer he stood before you the faster the self restraint you had held for months began to slip.

His hand came to your face, a finger gently traced your cheek. You turn from him defensively refusing to let him win, to let him see how desperately you longed for his touch. 

“Look at me” his fingers came under your chin attempting to move your head. But you protested lifting your head away from his grasp. Again he repeated his action and again you moved pushing his fingers away, moving frantically trying to get away from his touch. 

“Look at me,” there’s a sternness in his voice you had never heard before. His eyes were filled with fire, his grip like steel and you are left with no choice but to face him.

With his free hand he brushed hair that had fallen on your face during your struggle. Your eyes locked with his, looking at him felt like being lit by a thousand suns–by the fire that lived within the dragons. With every passing second your resolve was deteriorating, and you did not want to know what would happen when it did. 

“Do not leave” he gently brought his second hand to hold your face only this time you didn’t fight him.

The Aegon before you was vastly different then the one you had seen the past couple months. There were no snarky remarks or annoyed looks, there were only distressed words and pleading touches.

“I must”, it was a sullen response. 

He shakes his head, “No you do not. Stay”, he's begging. 

In return you shake your head.

His hands squeezed your face, “I’ll stay true to Helaena, I will not disturb you” there was a frantic urgency in his voice. 

You laugh, “We both know that’s not true”

Perhaps under different circumstances Aegon could change, perhaps if he respected his marriage things would have been different. But there was no changing the man he had grown into. 

You place your hands on his in an effort to pull them off but he did not yield. A part of you was glad his touch did not leave, basking in the warmth you would not feel again. There was a pull in your chest the same one you had felt the night of his drunken stupor. You tried to push it down, to swallow it whole but it was far too overwhelming.

He said your name softly, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. And as his body pressed against yours–you were again teetering dangerously close to falling under his trance. Time seemed to stop as both of you inhaled each other's breaths. Aegon’s head slowly comes closer to yours, his lips a word away. 

He paused and all you could think about was how close he was. How far apart the two of you had been up until this moment. 

There's a hot slash in your chest and you know immediately what it meant, your string of self restraint was cut. And there was no point in trying to regain hold of it, for it would slip right through your fingers. Any trace of respect and honor for the sanctities of marriage or yourself were gone. You could feel the vines of guilt beginning to climb your body but before they could wrap themselves around, you acted. If you were to scarcely see Aegon for the rest of your life you would take advantage of your last night in the Red Keep. 

Pushing every thought and feeling down you press your lips to Aegon’s. He’s taken aback you know because he does not react right away. But quickly he returns your actions without hesitation or pause. His lips moved with yours they tasted of; fruits, meats, and of your failure to stay away. 

You should not want this–want him. Not after his actions in the dining hall, not after he so easily strangled you. But as his hands left your face and began to roam over your body you did not care about his previous arrogant behavior. 

When your lips parted Aegon wasted no time in tangling his hands in the lace of your dress, his fingers working expertly. His eyes bore down on you, the sadness behind them was gone, replaced with a hunger you had never seen. It should have made you feel small or weak, like a sheep who has been caught in the mouth of a wolf.  

But you felt neither small nor weak, not as your fingers found themselves under his shirt. Your cold limbs pressed against his hot skin. You were two hungry dragons waiting to draw blood to sink their teeth into flesh and fill the hungering ache in the pit of your stomachs. 

As your lips met again desperately your teeth and tongues clashed. A battle of hands and lips took place, a tugging of lace, cotton, and skin.

While Aegon’s fingers traced down your back and his lips nipped at your skin you paid no mind to the regret that would eat you alive tomorrow. The shame that would haunt you every time you close your eyes as the image of Helaena was conjured up by your mind. Your little sisters pleading eyes as she handed her husband over to you on a silver platter all so you would stay. 

Tomorrow you will not be able to face Helaena, tomorrow you will sneak off before she’s able to say goodbye.

[jerzwriter]

Twenty-Five

I re-read chapter one of Wake the Dead and couldn't get Troy and Zoe's friendship out of my mind. In canon, we see them together for the first time when Zoe (MC) returns from her first day out with the Scouts. I wondered what that morning looked like for them, and this is what I came up with.

Book: Wake the Dead Characters: Troy Hassan, Zoe Rivera (F!MC) Words: 1,300 Rating: Teen Summary: It's Zoe's twenty-fifth birthday, and she's finally going to see the world beyond the confines of The Tower. She's been waiting all her life for this change, but Troy feels a little different. A/N: @choicesjanuary2024 Day 10 - Change

Zoe shifted under her covers, groaning with discontent at the thought of getting out of bed. Her mattress could be considered an antique, and she never understood how it managed to be thin and lumpy at the same time. Her blanket was no more than scraps of wool stitched together, itchy against her bare skin when she stretched. Still, within the stark, concrete walls of The Tower, this was as much comfort as she could expect, and the thought of lingering there all day had its appeal. She mulled the idea of playing sick in her mind; surely one of her counterparts could rid the colony of mice and vermin for the day, but then her eyes went wide.

With renewed energy, she shot up and jumped from the top bunk. Goosebumps formed on top of goosebumps when her bare feet hit the frigid slate floor. Just as well, she thought, now she was fully awake, and that’s exactly what she wanted to be. She had waited a lifetime for this day, and now that it was here, she didn’t want to miss a thing. She swung the closet door open; her clothing options were slim, but she was grateful for what she had. After slipping into an old, faded Henley and her favorite pair of worn jeans, she brushed her chestnut brown locks, smiling at her reflection in the dingy mirror. 

“Happy Birthday,” she winked, then bounded out the door with an extra bounce in her step. She was almost at the commissary when she heard a slow whistle and a familiar voice coming from behind.

“Well, look at you! If it isn’t the birthday princess herself!” Troy smiled.

Troy Hassan was her best friend for as long as she could remember, and that smile was as much of an old friend as he was. She couldn’t express how much she had come to rely upon it. After all, sunlight wasn’t all that common within the confines of The Tower, but with Troy at her side, she always had her own personal supply.

“It’s me!” She beamed. “A quarter-century old, and I finally get to see what the world looks like outside this monolith!”

“Hey, keep your voice down,” he cautioned. “The powers that be are awfully protective of this monolith.”

“I know,” she replied, throwing a protein bar on her metal tray. “And it’s not that I’m not grateful, but there is a big world out there, and after being stuck inside these walls for the last nineteen years, I can’t wait to see it.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen her this happy, so Troy did his best to keep the fear welling in his gut...in his heart... from making an appearance on his face. He had cautioned her about the dangers in the outside world plenty of times before, and today, he wouldn’t be the one to extinguish her flame. He turned his attention to the paltry food on her tray.

“What are you doing with that crap? Put it back!”

“Why?” she asked. “I have enough on my ration card for it...”

“That’s not the point,” he tilted his head with a mischievous grin, silently urging her to follow him.

The duo walked through the grey hallways, careful not to draw any attention to themselves before reaching Troy’s room. She never asked how he managed to get a room of his own, but she was pretty sure bribery or seduction had been involved, and the fewer details she knew, the better. Besides, she thought as she flopped onto the familiar mattress, far softer than her own, it behooved her. This was essentially her “home” away from home. It’s privacy, and his company had saved her more times than she cared to admit.

“Why are we here? I’m heading out with the Scouts in an hour. It certainly isn’t time for one of our game nights.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” he grinned, pulling a small package from a cabinet next to his bed. “It isn’t even night! But what kind of friend would I be if I allowed you to head out into that big world...on your birthday, no less...without a proper breakfast.”

He pulled a plate from the canvas sack, then lifted a napkin to reveal two enormous carrot muffins. Zoe’s eyes locked on them, then on Troy, returning quickly to the muffins.

“Where... where did you get... they’re my FAVORITE!”

“Eh, you know I have my ways,” he smirked, breaking a piece off the muffin top and placing it in her mouth, smiling as she groaned with delight. “Take it easy. If you keep making those noises, people will think we’re doing something else here, and your sister will have my hide.”

“Please,” Zoe rolled her eyes. “Ana knows better. But really, where did you get these? I think I’ve had two in my entire life.”

“I called in a favor,” he replied, his voice now filled with sincerity. “It’s a big day for you, and you deserve something special.”

“Troy,” she cooed. “You’re entirely too good to me.” 

She grabbed one muffin and took a huge bite. Then she took the other and placed it in Troy’s hand, but he rebuffed.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. They’re for you. It’s your birthday, after all.”

“Don’t be silly. I can’t possibly eat two before I go. I’d be too full to run away from all the zombies that will be chasing me!”

“Zo... don’t even joke!”

“All right, but I’m serious. Take one,” she insisted. “Sharing a delicious breakfast with my best friend is the only thing that could possibly top finally seeing life outside this cinderblock.”

“Well,” he playfully nudged her shoulder, “if you insist.”

He took a piece of the muffin, licking off the crumbs that stuck to his fingers.

“I still don’t understand how this is the way you want to spend your birthday. I know the desire to get out of this place, but... it’s not safe out there, Zo.”

“I know, but I’ve trained for this. Hell, I wanted to do this seven years ago, and I would have if Ana hadn’t but in.”

“She was just protecting you.”

“Protecting me from what?”

“Flesh-eating monsters, for one thing.”

“Troy,” she consoled, reaching for his hand. “I could have stayed on pest control. Stayed inside The Tower my entire life. Play it safe, never... live. But I wouldn’t be happy, and don’t you want me to be happy?”

Troy took the now empty plate from her hands and put it on the table beside him, then he wrapped her in a warm, loving embrace.

“That’s all I’ve wanted since we were kids, Zo,” he whispered. “That's not going to change.”

She pulled back with a smile. “We'll meet up tonight, and I’ll tell you all about my adventures today. Deal?”

“Deal,” he relented with a forced smile. “Just... be safe... please.”

“Of course I will.”

He wrapped the remainder of his muffin in a napkin and returned it to the bag.

“Are you insane? Why aren’t you finishing that?” she asked.

“Because it’s yours. I know with that muffin to look forward to at the end of the day, you will do all that you can to make it home.”

“Home,” she said wistfully. “I never felt much like I had a home. But then, I guess home is wherever you are. Well,” she giggled. “You and carrot muffins.”

Troy looked at his watch. “You better get going,” he lamented.

“Yeah, I guess it’s time.” She jumped to her feet, giving Troy one last hug.

“Thanks again. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I don’t know either,” he teased. “But whatever it was, it must have been amazing.”

Zoe reached for the doorknob with a laugh. “Now, there’s my Troy. We'll catch up tonight. I promise!”

“We’ll catch up tonight,” he nodded, then she was gone. He stared at the door for a long while, then fell back on his bed. “She’ll be back," he reassured himself. "She promised."

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

[tanoraqui]

(AO3)

There are no books banned from the Great Library of Tirion. There are, however, books which are generally agreed to be dangerous to read. There is a section for them, officially called “Unadvised” and informally called “Cursed Knowledge”, “Shelves of Spiders”, and “the Things The Valar Don’t Want You To Know section.”

There are no spiders in it, Dark or natural; the library staff are careful of that. There are many tomes, scrolls, and other writings which are literally cursed.

There is a slim, perfectly natural volume bound in pale grey leather like any other publication from the Metaphysical Studies department of Tirion University. It is notable only in its contents, described by its title:

The Craft of Necromancy

A study of the manipulation of fëa in life, death, the terrible neither and the tormenting both.

A note from the single author on the fourth page, after the title page and publication information, reads,

On sources and citations in this volume:

This is, I must confess, an unusual study. For one thing, while I wrote it for classic philosophical principle, that knowledge closely held ought be shared instead, I also wrote it for the relief of that sharing, as advised by acquaintances wise and well-versed in healing. To my loving advisors: I was perfectly fine before, but I do feel even better now. I’m glad you’re satisfied.

I do not believe this affects the rigor of the discussion herein. I only share it because context is always part of knowledge that ought be shared, to maximize understanding.

More relevant to the question of academic rigor is: where possible, I have included standard citations of other works on the topic, academic, biographical, and other. However, most of my knowledge on this topic was gained firsthand, either through personal experience, tutelage, or both (demonstrations upon my person, patiently explained before, during and after), and I can provide no verification save my own memory and the reputation of my primary tutor.

My memory has been confirmed to be clear by nurses of the Gardens of Lórien. My tutor has been known by many names, among them, Gorthaur, Lieutenant of Angband and Lord (and creator) of Werewolves; the Necromancer of Dol Guldur; the Lidless Eye; and Sauron the Deceiver.

Despite the last, I have perfect confidence that he was not lying to me anymore by the end. He enjoyed showing off too much for that.

With that in mind, I hope you will forgive my academic negligence in referring to him henceforth only as “a source.” It is a matter of not humoring his ego, even after his dissolution.

All that said, I have endeavored throughout this study to clearly distinguish not only between fact and theory, but between facts which I can verify through personal experience (eg, the trapping of a fëa within its hröa past the reasonable point of death), facts which were expounded upon to me at length but which I cannot confirm beyond my certainty of the source’s genuinity in his intentions to taunt and/or tempt me (eg, the warping of a fëa to suit a hroä other than that its natural own), and facts which were told to me, or to others of my association, in contexts of deception but which were later re-examined for truth (eg, on the binding of one fëa [or ëala] to another). As with any work, readers are encouraged to take the knowledge enclosed herein and make their own interpretations—though I do NOT advise practical experimentation with these matters.

This study should be taken as my final word on the matters therein. While I usually applaud curiosity and thoroughness in investigation, do not seek me out with questions.

Additionally: in light of the sober and sometimes disturbing contents of this study, I have been advised by my editor to reassure the reader (somewhat redundantly, I would argue) that I did, in fact, escape the captivity of my primary source, and I am thoroughly and happily recovered from the various torments, betrayals, etc. inflicted upon my person. My source (and tutor, creative collaborator, friend…) is confirmed to be, at the time of this publication, reduced to a scrap of a shadow soon to fade utterly from the world that is, thanks in large parts to the efforts of others. For accounts of those heroes, I recommend “The War of the Ring: A Hobbit’s Very Extended Journey There and Back Again”, B. Baggins, F. Baggins; “Nine-Fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom”, trans. B. Baggins; and “Garden Plants of the Western Shire”, S. Gamgee.

I recommend the last particular for aspiring gardeners. My floral and herbal window-boxes are all flourishing with the advice of Mr. Gamgee.

Yours in scholarship,

Celebrimbor Curufinwë

The volume is about 100 pages, mostly text with a handful of illustrative drawings scattered among the chapters. In the space in the back pages reserved for commentary from early readers, there is only one comment:

Concerningly accurate throughout.

– Aulë

[pebbleswritessometimes]

Hiii! 👋🏻

Could I request a Larissa x Reader smut encounter? I just wanted to see Reader being pressed against a bookshelf and them making out 🙂🙈💖. If you can make them getting caught by someone else and being questioned what they were doing, so Reader turns and picks the first book they see which for their embarrassment is Sappho 👁👄👁🤣

Hey dear! Hope this is okay :)

Caught

Larissa weems x Reader

Not super smutty but regardless

18+ MINORS GO AWAY

Warnings: none

Not really proof read, my apologies

You loved your work. The smell of old and well loved pages, watered soil from the potted plants, and brewed coffee, all blended together to create something that you considered simply divine. It was a calm responsibility, but one that you took pride in. Sorting novels and textbooks, charting out student book returns, and often losing yourself in an abundance of chapters at your desk.

Exams for the students had been completed the week prior, so it wasn’t often anyone would come into the library for anything. It was just you and your gigantic pile of books. You told yourself that you’d only pick out two books to take and enjoy at your desk. You realized as soon as you sat down, that wasn’t the case. Genres spanning from fantasy, to mystery, and even to some sappy romance. You flipped a coin, chose your book, and kicked your feet up on your desk.

“Holy shit. Queen Gwen is.. AHA SHES GAY, ANOTHER WIN, FUCK YEAH,” you flung your body off the chair and shimmied around in gay excitement. “Good morning, Miss Y/N. Are you sure that language is appropriate during school hours?” Your boss, Larissa, laughed as she watched your reaction. You squeaked as you bounced back, nearly ramming yourself into the shelves behind you. “I- uhh.. ah ha okay so see-“ you were a frazzled mess as you tried to explain that you had merely gotten a little too invested in your book. “I’m only teasing, dear. No need to worry,” she chuckled, placing the book she had tucked away in her arm, on the return cart. You exhaled, trying to compose yourself. You watched her as she filed through some of the books you had stacked on the table. Flipping them over, reading their previews, and with a hum, she’d place them back neatly where they had laid previously.

For some reason, you were nervous as you observed her. You never cared about what others thought of the books you read, but her? You wanted so badly for her to think highly of you. What would she think when she found that book about a super tall, vampire dommy mommy? Or what about the book that goes into detail of the relationship between a queer, gender neutral Lucifer and their fallen angel, wife? “Are these all the books you’re planning on reading today?” She smirked, walking over with a leather-bound book in her hands. “Or did you simply get carried away with your options,” you could’ve sworn you saw something in her eyes. “I- yes I seem to have gotten a little ambitious,” you tittered. “Ambitious. I like it,” she was definitely flirting now right? No, she wouldn’t play with you like that, would she? “Mind showing me where I could find more stories like this one?”

You took the book from her hands and- this is the one she wants similar books to? “Have you read this one, Principal Weems?” You turned your gaze towards her and tapped your fingers upon the books leather cover, as you waited for her answer. “Yes, it’s one of my favorites actually! You should read this one next, it’s a lovely book,” her smile never left her features. “This is actually one of my favorites, too! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve re-read it,” you nearly couldn’t contain the excitement from talking about your favorite book. Although, you were a little shocked that your boss had read the, “Lucifer and Fallen Angel,” book. Thinking about her reading chapter 5, where the fallen angel gets pushed against the wall by a towering Lucifer, a blush quickly made its way across your features. Furrowing her brows, she wondered what made you such a blushing mess in front of her.

“Well then, Miss Y/N. Maybe you’ll benefit from a trip to that section of the library as well,” she winked and turned towards the shelves. It almost seemed as if she knew exactly where she needed to go already.

Setting down the book and grabbing a small clay watering bell, you began to make your way to the section where the similar vein of books were located. Larissa was a little confused as to why you had a small piece of pottery that fit your thumb perfectly at the top. It clicked when you took a small detour towards the potted snake plant. “Sorry, Principal Weems. Snakester was due for a watering and I figured since we were headed back this way I could get her taken care of,” you chimed, “and I thought it’d be a good opportunity to test out the watering bell I made.” She looked at the bell, then back to you in awe, “You made that? It’s beautiful. And it seems to work very nicely,” she said as she admired you and the other work of art you had grasped in your dominant hand. “Yes, it does seem to work quite well, doesn’t it? Alright, my love, on to the books,” setting down the bell on the table that stood next to the plant. She blushed at the pet name and trailed behind you.

“So! Tell me, what did you like about that specific book? Maybe I’ll be able to point you in the direction of one’s you’re most likely to enjoy,” you looked up at her and immediately regretted it. Seeing her look down at you like that, you couldn’t help the thoughts forming in your mind. Suddenly, the minuscule confidence you previously carried, had completely evaporated. She stared down with a smirk. You started twirling your fingers and bit your cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She knew she had you in the palm of her hand. “Let’s see, hm. I enjoyed the banter between the two main characters,” stepping closer to you, “I loved the heavily seductive scenes and the way Luci pushed the angel back,” pushing another step forward until finally closing the space between. “Were you fond of that part too, Y/N?” She looked down at you as she grasped your chin with her thumb and pointer. With quick breaths, you frantically nodded. “Is this okay?” She checked as she moved her face closer to yours. Met with another nod, she corrected, “You have to use your words, sweetheart,” seeing you gulp before your answer, she smirked. “Yes, please.. yes,” you despised how pathetic you sounded but in that moment you wanted nothing more than to feel her lips on yours. Pushing you all the way back against the book shelf, she held your face and used her free hand to pull your hips towards her. A small moan escaped as she deepened the kiss and her hold on you.

Breaking away for just a moment to breath, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been dreaming about that,” you admitted. “You’ve been dreaming about kissing your boss? Naughty, Miss Y/N,” she chuckled before confessing the same. Didn’t take you two long before you began to make out again. Moving her hand up your torso, you grabbed her face with your own hands and pushed your bodies closer. God, you needed her so bad, and she needed you just as much. She hitched up your leg and slid her knee between yours. You moaned at the action and couldn’t help the immediate movement you made. “So needy, my dear,” you both giggled.

“Y/N, are you back here? I had a question about-“ Thornhill had stopped in her tracks, wide eyed at the scene unfolding in front of her. With another squeak from you, you both stumbled back and away from each other. A large grin spread across her face, “Now, what are you two kids doing back here?” Larissa turned around, a rosey color painting her skin, she swiped out the wrinkles your little games had produced, and turned back around. “Oh! Hey Marylin! Haha we were just looking for uh,” scanning the books nearest to you and picking the first one that caught your eye, “This book! This one right here,” you let out a pained chuckle. “Is that so? What’s it about?” Thornhill raised an eyebrow and tilted her head as she excitedly awaited for your improvised answer. “What book? Oh this one? Oh let’s see, this is about um…it’s-“

Cursing yourself for not looking properly at the book before grabbing it, you looked back at the woman whose mouth was just glued to yours. Her arms were crossed on her chest, with her hand resting in her palm. You couldn’t believe how guilty she looked, if you hadn’t just been caught acting like two teenagers, you would’ve laughed at the sight of her being so bashful. “Go on, Y/N. Tell me what the story is about,” You could tell Marylin was enjoying this. She rocked back and forth on her heels.

Swallowing before you spoke, “It’s um. Haha, so it’s about two woman who- oh wow okay, phew um. It’s about two woman who,” it’s almost funny how much you’re struggling to get a simple explanation out. “They fall for each other and… and they- You know wow! Look at the time, Miss Weems! We oughta catch that thing at that place before it’s gone,” you look back at Larissa with pleading eyes and see she’s trying her best not to chuckle at the previous display of your nervousness. You shove the book back into the case and rush passed the woman who had just caught you with your tongue in your employers mouth. “Okay, bye!” You could be heard from a distance as you ran back to your desk and hid your face in your palms.

You hear the unmistakable clicking of Larissa’s heels making their way over to you. Glancing up through your fingers, you see the woman resting her arms on the counter above your desk. “She’s gone, sweetheart,” she looked at you fondly. “I can’t believe we did that,” keeping your face behind your hands. “I’m glad we did,” she returned. “I’ve got a parent meeting I’m needed at, but I’d like to see you later. Think you could meet me in my office after-hours?” She bit her lip as she proposed the question. It didn’t take long for you to give her the answer she was hoping for, “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be there.”

“Ma’am?” She tilted her head, “I like it,” she nodded as she made her way out of the library. It was safe to say, you had no clue what to expect that evening, but you were excited, nonetheless.

[periwinklemoonlight]

hot to go! ⋆ a jrwi suckening fic ⋆ 11.1k words

summary: shilo helps emizel get ready for his date with theo — many, many hijinks ensue.

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

⋆⋆⋆

Shilo sits content at the edge of his hotel bed, hands folded daintily in his lap and humming a simple melody. His eyes lazily drift around the room’s decor, taking in the curves and contours of each unfamiliar object and wondering how it might feel to sketch it, to commit it to memory in the ivory pages of the book that sits neatly on the edge of his nightstand. A soft blanket crinkles around his legs and bunches up where Grefgor sits cross-legged behind him, gently sliding a plastic hairbrush through Shilo’s tangled locks. Curtains sway back and forth ahead of him, letting the slightest hint of a cool breeze into the room and wash across his face. The digital clock across the room glows a vivid red, reading seven twenty-three p.m. and signaling the start of a whole new night ahead of them.

“That’s a pretty tune, my prince,” Grefgor comments absent-mindedly. “Does it have a name?”

Shilo snaps out of his sleepy trance, consciously re-straightening his posture. “Oh, no, I made it up just now.” 

“I wasn’t aware you were so musically inclined. I should be lucky to guard such a talented prince.” There’s something lightheartedly facetious, yet sincerely good natured to his tone. Strangely, Shilo notes somewhere in the back of his mind, it's almost a shock to be reminded of Grefgor's profession. He's never been allowed to befriend any of his guards the way he has with him these past few weeks, much less consider them a friend first and foremost. It's a welcome change, he thinks, and one he is happy to indulge in — even if it means being the subject of their banter sometimes.

Shilo smiles, feeling slightly embarrassed. “No, no. I think I much prefer the visual arts, you know? Painting, drawing, that sort of thing.” He glances at the small leather bound book on the nightstand. His gaze then drifts to the little brush, bristles stained with a dark kohl powder, next to it. 

“Oh!” He continues, “And-”

“MAKEUP!” A boisterous voice finishes his sentence for him as it nearly knocks down the door and Shilo off the bed in one fell swoop. Grefgor catches Shilo by the arm, stopping him before he slips onto the floor. After a moment of steadying themselves, the pair glance up to see a jittery-looking Emizel standing in the doorway.

“Shit, that was kinda loud. Sorry man.” Emizel runs his hand through his hair sheepishly. “But, like, it’s also kinda an emergency.”

Shilo shakes his head, mindlessly messing up the hair Grefgor had spent the past twenty minutes smoothing to perfection. “A… makeup emergency?”

Shilo looks his brother up and down. He’s completely barefaced, save for a few small red spots on his chin and forehead. Perhaps there are some things even vampirism can’t cure. Beyond his face, his entire outfit is a mess. Every article of clothing seems to be mismatched, including his shoes. Socks and sandals paired with — judging by how it appears at least three sizes too big — what can only be one of Arthur’s black loafers is a choice, to be sure. Not a good one, but a choice. 

“Yes? No? I don’t fucking-? Sorta. Arthur told me you know makeup. I need help with that. Makeup.”

“He wears it himself, does he not?”

“Yeah, but Broody McAsshole said he was too busy brooding to help me because he’s an asshole. So I’m here now. Can you help me out, dude?”

Shilo still looks baffled. “I mean, sure, but… what exactly is your problem?” Emizel stares at him for a second, then blinks.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Forgot about that part. Fuck.” 

Grefgor scoots beside Shilo and pats the bed next to him. “Come sit, my prince. I am also more than willing to assist you with whatever you need.” Emizel obliges, wiping his grubby face with grubbier hands. 

“Thanks, man. See, that's why I fuckin’ love you, Grefgor, dude. You’re always keeping it real as fuck. Like you’re always on some real shit.” Grefgor just smiles in the way Shilo has learned means he barely understood what was just said to him. 

Emizel pauses, as if to take a breath, before speaking. “I asked Theo out, and he, wow, he said yes. So we’re going on a date.”

Shilo clasps his hands under his chin delicately. “A date! Emizel, that is very exciting!”

“Indeed, my prince!” Grefgor agrees, nodding.

“Yeah, but like, here’s the problem. Now I've gotta figure out what to wear. Like usually I don’t give a shit about that kinda thing but now I’m like, oh fuck, this is actually a thing now, and I can’t just look like ass if we’re actually gonna be going out, out, you know?” Emizel moves his hands rapidly as he speaks, less gesturing than just moving for the sake of movement, cracking his knuckles a dozen times over and twisting his wrists so fast it makes Shilo’s head spin. 

“So you’d like me to help you look presentable for your date with Theo?” He asks, leaning in closer to speak to his brother and resting his chin on Grefgor’s shoulder to look over at him. His eyes are wide with wonder when he asks again: “Emizel, you are asking me to make you over?”

Emizel nods, then throws his hands over his face again when Shilo beams in response. 

“But none of that fancy shit, okay? This is a first date, it’s nothing crazy. Casual, even. Yeah. Super casual and like… chill.” Emizel’s words do nothing to dispel the twinkle in Shilo’s eye. 

“Oh, I can do casual! Yes! Now this is really exciting!” Shilo rises abruptly, dusting himself off before taking another look at his brother.

Incomprehensible is possibly the best and only word to describe his current outfit. Shilo can make out at least four different tops on his torso, the most visible of which displaying an oddly shaped yellow character. Emizel’s pants are in a similar state, each pair of shorts somehow baggier than the last and none of which secured by a belt. What concerns Shilo the most, though, is that the emerald cape flopping around his brother’s shoulders most definitely belongs to him, and that it was absolutely hanging in his closet before he went to sleep yesterday.

“Okay, so, whatever you’ve got going on right now, we are not doing that.” He pauses, furrowing his brow. “What even. What do you have going on right now. What was the thought process behind this.” 

Emizel just shrugs. “Was tryin’ stuff on. Thought I could save some time if I just didn’t take the last thing off when I put on a new one.”

“A… valid strategy, my prince,” Grefgor comments hesitantly. A brief concerned glance to Shilo confirms his true thoughts. 

“Grefgor do not enable him. Emizel, I am sure you could spare the five seconds it takes to remove your clothing from now on. We have plenty of time, don’t we?”

“Oh, nah, not really.” Emizel leans back with his elbows above his head until he lands on the cushiony bed with a soft thump. He glances up at the clock, which now reads seven thirty p.m. “The date’s in like, three hours? Eh, maybe closer to two now?”

“What.”

⋆⋆⋆

“Arthur!?” Shilo calls out loudly, practically slamming his door open. The sudden noise doesn’t seem to faze the older vampire, though his hair gets swept back from the force of the swing. Arthur stands in the hotel hallway just beyond the door, arms crossed impatiently and suspiciously missing a shoe. 

“Have you boys figured it out yet? I’d quite like my other shoe back now, thank you.” Emizel wobbly slips off the loafer and tosses it at Arthur, who catches it with ease and slides it back on in one swift motion. Void mrrps from around his shoulders. 

“Good. I assume you’re all sorted out, then?” 

“Arthur,” Shilo begins, stepping closer and voice a half-whisper. “Arthur, it is worse than I could have ever imagined.”

“We require your credited card immediately, my boy.” Grefgor continues from behind the prince. Arthur’s gaze briefly drifts behind the pair and over to Emizel, who is staring at a wall and mindlessly picking at his face. He sighs.

“What a pain.”

“Arthur, you must take us to the- the… the m…”

“The mall, my prince.”

“The mal! And direct us to the makeup store immediately!” At that, Arthur gets a faraway glint in his eyes.

“Vampire Sephora,” he says to no one in particular. “I'm familiar.”

Shilo blinks. 

“Alright. Well, there is no time to waste! Let’s go!” The young vampire announces as he strides down the hallway, heels clicking with every rushed step and an entourage of vampires at various energy levels following close behind. 

⋆⋆⋆

“Really, you two, we don’t have the time to be arguing about this right now,” Shilo remarks from the back seat of a Toyota Corolla that belonged to a really very nice librarian about five minutes prior. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, man!” Emizel says, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “I’m the only one in this car who even has a licence!” 

“I assure you, boy, I have driven countless times in my life. It would be much wiser to just let the more experienced driver take the wheel.”

“Horses and buggies don’t fucking count, asshole!” Arthur opens his mouth to speak. “And neither does your goddamn pennyfarting or whatever it’s called!” Emizel adds for good measure. 

“Emizel,” Arthur begins, pointedly choosing to ignore the previous comments, “The last time you operated a vehicle, you nearly hit over a dozen pedestrians. You ended up actually hitting even more. I am the only one here that can take us to our destination both quickly and safely.”

“Yeah, whatever dude,” Emizel shrugs, pushing Arthur out of the way and himself into the driver’s seat. “Come back when you get one of these bad boys, then we’ll talk.” He reaches into his fur lined jacket and pulls out a small, chipped plastic Learner’s Permit with an expiry date reading four months ago. Arthur eyes it for a moment, then sighs as he slots himself into the passenger seat. 

“Just try not to kill anyone,” he says, pinching his temple. 

“No promises!” Emizel grins as he swerves out of the hotel parking lot and immediately begins barreling down the road, nearly launching Shilo out of the car window as he grips onto Grefgor for dear unlife. 

“Besides,” Emizel says after a moment, tone much more casual —  possibly too casual for someone who just ran three red lights, “I thought you didn’t wanna come help me out, Brood. You told me to fuck off when I asked the first time.” Arthur sighs again.

“I did not say that,” he refutes. “And I am still not participating in the makeover. I’m just here to supervise, make sure that none of you boys get into trouble. Has it occurred to you that maybe I might have been more open to the idea initially if you weren’t actively withholding one of my shoes when you asked?”

“Nah. Honestly, I was thinking of it as a little extra motivation.” Emizel begins adjusting the car radio, switching it on to a local pop station as he cruises into oncoming traffic. 

An upbeat song suddenly begins blaring through the vehicle:

I could be the one, or your new addiction… 

“Oh hell yeah!” Emizel cheers. He looks over his shoulder at Shilo and Grefgor, who stare back in confusion. He smiles a toothy grin. 

“You guys like dances, right? You're gonna love this. When I say so, you two copy me, okay?” Shilo furrows his brow, but nods. 

“Eyes on the road, Emizel!” Arthur chastises with a rap on the shoulder. Emizel does as told, but it isn't long until the pre-chorus ends and he swivels once more. 

“Now!” He exclaims and begins waving his arms in the air to match the song, hitting Arthur twice in the process. Shilo and Grefgor try their best to keep up with his rapid movements, a tangle of limbs in the back seat.

“Emizel, what are we doing?” Shilo asks as he flails. One of his hands lands squarely on the top of Grefgor’s head, who momentarily squeezes his eyes shut on impact. A dozen unintelligible apologies waffle out of Shilo as he reels the offending hand back. 

“You’re fuckin’ hot to go dude, that's what!” Emizel replies. “You got it down now?” Before either of them can answer, Arthur lunges past Emizel’s roving arms.

“The wheel! The steering wheel, Emizel!” He coughs out, frantically straightening it. Void hops from his shoulders into Shilo’s lap, startled by her owner’s sudden movement. Shilo yelps at her as the car veers over into the correct lane. 

“It’s literally fine man! It straightens itself! I usually don’t even bother with it anyways!” He returns his attention to Grefgor and Shilo. “So you guys think you got it or what? The chorus is coming up again!” 

“Y-yes my prince?” Grefgor replies, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. Shilo makes a non-committal noise, adjusting to the sudden cat in his lap. 

“And again!” Emizel announces with glee, completely disregarding Arthur in front of him. He starts the dance again, and this time Shilo finds himself able to mostly keep up with the moves, only briefly brushing Grefgor in the process. By the time the chorus comes around again, a smile escapes Shilo’s lips when all three of them are doing it together. 

“Easy, right?” his brother asks. “Theo taught me last week!”

“Yes, now that I have learned it! Oh, Emizel, you should teach Arthur now!”

“He will be doing no such thing! When does this song end?” Arthur grumbles.

“Ignore him, Shilo. I knew he’d be a hater, that’s why I only taught you guys.” Emizel sings along with the end of the song, finally turning back around once it starts to fade out. 

“See, Arthur? It was fine!” He teases, putting his hands back on the wheel. Arthur straightens himself up and decidedly switches off the radio. 

“It-” he coughs again, “-absolutely was not. No more music for the rest of the ride.” Void hops back onto his shoulders with a soft mrrp. Emizel blows a raspberry.

“Can’t do anything around here these days.” He complies despite his protests, though Shilo can’t tell if it’s of his own volition or the death glare his brother receives from Arthur each time he eyes the radio dial. 

When Emizel stops swerving and the mall is finally in sight, Shilo dares to peer forward from the back seat and check the time. Seven fifty-two p.m. Huh. Well, for all his road safety faults, at least Emizel is fast.

⋆⋆⋆

Shilo, after taking several very necessary moments to instruct Emizel to please remove three of his five layers and another few to marvel at the revolving glass door, steps inside the vast mall with the others in tow. His hastily-tied heels click against the tiled floor, followed close behind by the softer taps of leather boots and loafers, and finally topped off by a single socked sandal. 

“You don’t think someone’s gonna ask me why I only have one shoe on?” Emizel ponders, catching up to walk alongside his brother. 

“Better they ask about that than the blood stains all over your hoodie,” Arthur answers stiffly, clearly itching to add an additional comment about the shoes.

“It’s not my fault I got hungry, man. Concentrating on driving takes a lot out of me.”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Arthur, you said you are familiar with the vampire Sephora?” Shilo asks, glancing around the bustling mall and trying his best not to get lost in the throngs of passing shoppers —  both vampire and human alike from the looks of it. “She must be quite the businesswoman to sell cosmetics to all of these people by herself.”

“Something like that, yes,” Arthur says vaguely, taking the front of the group and gesturing for the others to follow. He weaves them through crowded eateries and past a funny looking moving staircase to the fabled store, hesitating at the entrance.

“What’s up Arthur, man?” Emizel asks with a gentle elbow. Arthur pauses for another moment before shaking his head and entering the store with the others.

“Nothing, boy. What are we looking for?” Emizel turns to his twin, who is presently gawking at the sheer amount of products lining the walls.

“Shilo, what are we looking for?” Shilo places a hand under his chin to think and leans against the nearest wall, which happens to be Grefgor. 

“Well, how would you like to look, Emizel?”

“Fucking dope, preferably. But, uh, covering up my acne would be nice. And I like that spooky eyeliner-eyeshadow thing you do sometimes, too. Is that good?” Shilo nods slowly in understanding, then gestures for Grefgor to lean down. The prince promptly cups his mouth with his hands and whispers into his guard’s ear.

“Grefgor, I believe we are in deep trouble. I had no idea there were so many makeup products. Frankly? It is overwhelming. I don’t know what half of these things on the shelves are and I am very quickly realizing I may not be as well versed in the cosmetic world as I once thought but also that it is far too late now to admit this to Emizel and also that he and Arthur are staring at us very suspiciously.” Grefgor nods severely, opening his mouth to reply far too loudly and stopping when Shilo hurriedly presses a finger to his lips. 

“I know exactly what we need,” he announces, whipping himself back around with his hand still on Grefgor’s mouth. 

“What was that just now?” Emizel asks.

“I was just consulting Grefgor for his opinion,” Shilo says matter-of-factly. “He is also quite knowledgeable in the makeup department, you know.” A single drop of sweat drips down Grefgor’s forehead.

“Really? ‘Cause I don’t think you let him even get a word in.”

“Of course. That is the proper etiquette for consulting guards at Umbra Castle, Emizel.” Emizel seems to consider this, then shrugs. 

“Europeans, am I right?” He elbows Arthur again with a grin and continues forward, ignoring the unamused and slightly concerned expression he receives. 

After a moment, Shilo leans back over to Grefgor.

“You do not actually have any advice for us, right Grefgor?” He asks, voice soft.

“No, my prince. I only know as much as you have taught me. Apologies.” 

Shilo sighs. “That is alright.” 

He wanders around a few aisles, inspecting the various products and displays and trying to soak in as much knowledge as possible while appearing to be deeply considering the ramifications of choosing shade 001 over 000. Grefgor peers over his shoulder, mimicking his thoughtful pose. 

“What have you gathered from here, my prince?” He asks, watching as Shilo turns two tubes of pale concealer around in his hands.

“Many things, Grefgor. And also nothing at all. There is so much in this world I do not understand, even in my immortal unlife I fear I may never have the time to learn it all.” He lifts the grayer shade higher. “This is definitely Emizel’s shade, though.”

“Great call, my prince. Speaking of, we appear to have lost him.” Shilo blinks as he slips the tube into Grefgor’s hand.

“Lost him? What do you mean lost him?” he asks, swiveling his head left and right as Grefgor expertly removes the barcode from the product with suspiciously well practised hands. Emizel is nowhere to be found, evidently having slipped off somewhere while Shilo was trying very hard to look like he understood what he was perusing. 

“Arthur?” Shilo calls, noticing the other man had also vanished. At the sound, Void’s head pops up from behind a distant shelf, locking eyes with Shilo and letting out a small meow. Shilo dashes towards her, nearly tripping on the wrinkled cape hastily pinned to his shirt. He sees Arthur first, arms folded and doing his best to give as little input as possible as Emizel shoves various products in his face. 

“Shilo! There you are, man!” Emizel says as he pushes past Arthur. “You really gotta stop running off like that. I know you said you had a plan, but I saw some cool looking sparkly shit and then some other colourful stuff and- You know what? Here. You can tell me if they suck shit. Or something. This guy still insists on being useless.” He presses a handful of items into Shilo’s hands. 

“I’m here for supervision purposes only,” Arthur insists, though his glasses only barely hide the way he eyes the smokey palette to his left. Shilo examines the products, setting a few down onto a ledge and holding up a dark eyeshadow palette. He squints his eyes theatrically and nods firmly. 

“Yes… A splendiferous choice, Emizel. The pigments, they are… strong! And vigorous! It is good. Yes.” He places the palette back down and picks up a small bottle of liquid eyeliner, taking a moment before shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Emizel, I’m afraid this product very clearly has an ancient curse placed upon it. You must remove it immediately unless you would like us all to be blown to smithereens.” Emizel’s eyes widen as he snatches back the bottle, haphazardly tossing it into the aisle behind him. Shilo glimpses at Grefgor nervously as he picks up the next item.

“Excellent observation, my prince. Yes, that item would have instantly vaporized us upon its opening.” Grefgor offers. “You have a trained cosmetic eye, indeed.” Shilo exhales slightly, relaxing his shoulders and turning back to see the product he picked up — a dark red lip gloss very obnoxiously and lasciviously labelled ‘VAMPIRE SEX BLAST’. He deflates with a cartoonish frown, pointed ears flopping down.

“Emizel we are not getting Vampire Sex Blast.” 

Emizel crosses his arms. “Give me one good reason why not.”

“Wh- It is called Vampire Sex Blast!” Shilo exclaims. 

“Yeah, and that fuckin’ rips!” Before Shilo can offer a really very reasonable counter argument, a concerned-looking woman with a ponytail slicked back into an afro puff and dressed in all black appears ominously at the end of the aisle.

She looks pointedly at the products strewn across the floor before glancing at the bickering brothers with an unamused expression. Shilo, oblivious to her discontentment, tosses Vampire Sex Blast away excitedly, lighting up as he notices the capital letters printed across the right side of her shirt.

“Ah, so you are the vampire Sephora!” He beams, clasping his hands together. “It is very nice to meet you! I am Prince Shilo Bathroy of the Ventrue clan. I have heard about your business ventures!” The woman furrows her brow slightly, looking as if she’s about to say something when Arthur steps up beside Shilo and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sorry about the disturbance, miss. Don’t mind him,” he says as flatly as he can, trying to swiftly brush past Shilo’s introduction. “We were just having a bit of a heated discussion. My boys can be very… particular about this sort of thing. I’m sure you understand.” 

“No worries, sir.” Her tone strongly indicates that there is, in fact, a worry, but she momentarily flashes him a fanged smile. “Well, if you or your sons are looking for anything specific, I would be happy to help you out.” She looks back between Shilo and Emizel, seemingly ignorant of the way Arthur sputters incredulously at her words. 

“So you are… not the vampire Sephora?” Shilo asks. 

Arthur sighs and leans down next to him. “Shilo,” he says, in a rather fatherly manner considering his disbelief just seconds ago, “I fear I may have misled you. There is no vampire named Sephora. This is just a Sephora for vampires.”

Shilo’s voice is small. “...What?”

“I’m sorry, prince. I should not have let this go so far. It is true that when I was last he-”

“Actually, sir…” She pauses, staring down Shilo with squinted eyes before seemingly deciding on something and mumbling, “Hmm. She may approve. Miss Sephora is in today, if the little prince wanted to speak to her. Follow me.” She turns and, despite her invitation to follow, faces the shelf next to her and picks up a rogue brush, instantly distracted with picking at the bristles. 

“She’s what,” Arthur says dully, what was left of the light in his eyes suddenly vanishing as his glasses slide all the way down his nose with shock. That light immediately transfers to Shilo tenfold as his eyes widen gleefully.

“Oh! I would love that! Yes! Thank you, Aaaa…” Shilo cranes his head around to read her name tag, “Sha- Shakira!”

“Wrong,” she replies, but makes no move to correct him. “Now, come on.” She slips the brush into her pocket and disappears around the corner, singing an unrecognisable tune, the puff on the top of her head peeking over the aisles as she walks. The group does as told, except Arthur, who is still frozen in place with an appalled expression. Emizel snaps him back to reality with a sharp elbow, and he finally follows suit, pushing his glasses up again and hardening his expression once more. 

“What is up with you, man?” Emizel pesters with a grin, clearly amused by Arthur’s bizarre behaviour. They follow the mysterious employee to the back of the store, passing by other intrigued workers with waves of varying degrees of politeness. Finally, they reach another woman, her back turned to them and looking over the contents of a cardboard box. Her hair is impossibly long and shiny, thin braids cascading down her back and flowing like a waterfall as she moves. 

“Miss Sephora? This little prince  —  he said his name was Sheila  —  would like to speak with you.” When she turns, Shilo instantly feels like he recognizes her. It’s almost impossible to pin her as anything other than Toreador, for a start, considering her face of full glam makeup and the numerous pieces of jewelry dangling from her ears, neck, and wrists. She blinks her long false eyelashes at Shilo, studying him curiously. 

“Hello!” He greets her with a wave. “My name is Prince Shilo Bathroy of the Ventrue clan. It is very wonderful to meet you!”

“Bathroy?” She repeats, her gaze intensified by the bold makeup around her eyes. A subtle tinge of a Southern accent paints her voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name. You’re a long way from home, aren't you?”

“Ah. Yes, I am. You… are the vampire Sephora, yes? My friend Arthur here has told me about your business enterprise.” Sephora gazes up at Arthur, who looks like he’s about to hurl. 

“Is that so?” She asks, making eye contact with him. He doesn’t react. “Well, yes, I am. I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, Prince Shilo. I was sure your mother would’ve at least kept me in the history books.”

“You knew my mother?” 

Sephora smiles. “Sure did. I lived in that big castle of yours, too, once upon a time. Back when I was Primogen. A long, long time ago now.” Even Arthur seems shocked at the revelation. The peculiar employee, meanwhile, is typing up a storm on her phone. 

“How long ago?” Emizel pipes up. “Like, did you know any, uh, vampire dinosaurs or some shit?” Sephora looks at him disparagingly. 

“Yes.”

Brushing past that, Shilo looks at her intently. “So you were a Primogen! Tell me, why did you leave? I am very interested.” Sephora spreads her arms out, gesturing around her. 

“To start my business, of course! And it was the best damn decision I ever made, I’ll tell you that. I haven't kept up with vampire news for decades! But enough about me, prince. What brings you here?”

“Ah!” Shilo claps. “I am here to help my brother shop for his date. He has given me permission to make him over, which-”, he looks over to Emizel, “-I am very excited about!”

“There’s… two of you?” Sephora asks, grimacing as she watches Emizel pick his nose. 

“Yes! Here, this is my brother Emizel, and my friends Arthur and Grefgor!” A meow. “And Void!” Sephora tilts her head in consideration, gaze lingering on Arthur for an uncomfortable second. Grefgor straightens himself, pushing his shoulders back before speaking. 

“We have come to request your assistance with this task, my, uh, ex-Primogen…?”

“‘Manager’ is fine.”

“-My girlboss.” Grefgor leans over to Shilo. “I learned that one from the tiny lightbox!”

“Advice, hm? Well, for starters, yo-” A loud ringtone cuts her off: -is you say daaaaddy’s hooooome…

The group glances over to the source of the sound — reactions ranging from deeply uncomfortable to downright thrilled — while the employee looks up from her phone nonchalantly. “Sorry guys. My shift was supposed to end an hour ago but apparently my ride got bit by some dipshit outside the mall. This is really entertaining, though. Keep going.” Now distracted by her phone call, the employee, just as ominously as she appeared, walks backwards out of the store. Four pairs of eyes, some more feline than others, side eye Emizel.

Simultaneously, they recall the mess of watching him fumble sneaking into that poor person’s car, first attempting to get in through the trunk and resorting to nose-diving through the passenger side window when that didn't work. It was still an impressive feat, all things considered, especially since the car was still moving when he did it. Less impressively, though, was him then biting their wrist while it was steering the vehicle and promptly crashing the both of them into a tree. 

‘Nerves’, he chalked it up to. ‘Stupidity’ was Arthur’s working theory.

Emizel smiles obtusely. “Tasted like Subway.”

“Well,” Sephora says, making her way in front of the group and beginning to lead them out of the back of the store as well. “I suppose I can spare a free consultation for the prince. If you’d send my regards to your mother, of course.”

Shilo inhales. “Of course.”

When Sephora steps into the main area of the store, her Presence is palpable. Every head, employee and customer, vampire and human alike, whirls to look at her, dropping whatever they're doing before Sephora waves a casual hand to dismiss their leering gazes. 

“So, what made you settle in L.A.?” Shilo asks as he follows her, clearly affected by the sudden eyes on the group.

“Oh, I don’t live here, Prince. I’m just visiting this little branch while I’m in town. See, my sister told me she was going to the Elysium at that old club downtown and I thought, well, I could drop by and say hello, but I ended up missing the party by a whole night. A real shame too, I heard it was fire.” The group collectively grits their teeth behind her. 

They stop at an aisle mirror, close to where they had previously tossed products around. Shilo excitedly places his brother in front of it, taking him by the shoulders and adjusting him so he stands in the center. He watches as Sephora takes a good long look at his brother, then walks into the nearby aisle. She chats leisurely with Shilo as she picks up various items from the counter and hands them back to him with a nod. She disappears into another adjacent aisle and returns with a few new ones, including a fancy-looking powder and small eyeliner pencil.

“Now, remember, these are all just suggestions,” She says. She makes an odd face until her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, as if with epiphany. “But remember… for some people… it might be more practical to look… within, for beauty.”

“Yeah man, I’m always saying that,” Emizel agrees, idly scratching his ass. Sephora squints at him.

“One more recommendation, if I may,” She says, reaching over to another aisle and placing a stick of deodorant in Emizel’s hand. 

“Oh, you guys sell snacks here too? Thanks,” He promptly takes a bite. 

Sephora's eye twitches. She peers at Arthur out of the corner of her eye. “You're paying for that.” 

Arthur gulps.”Gawrsh!”

As the group files out, thanking Sephora for her help, she sets a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly, he cranes his head over to make hesitant eye contact. She gives him an unreadable smile. He trembles.

“Nice to see you in my store again, Arthur Bennett. Takes a lot of guts to come back after what happened last time.”

The walk to the next store is mostly silent, at least on Arthur's part. 

⋆⋆⋆

“Alright,” Shilo begins, scanning the shelves of the Hot Topic. “What sort of occasion is this date of yours, Emizel?”

“I told you, man. It’s just, like, casual. Super casual. Honestly I could show up with what I’m wearing right now, it’s so casual. Or nothing at all, even. I could be butt ass naked and it would be so chill. Fuckin’… yeah.” Emizel looks more and more nervous with every word that rambles out of his mouth. 

“Some clothes would be wise,” Arthur mutters, fiddling with a hanging necklace. A quick glance in his direction reveals Void peeking her head and paws curiously out of the Sephora bag around his wrist, evidently having abandoned Arthur’s shoulders in favour of being escorted like a chihuahua. Almost identically to her owner, she paws at a chain necklace, curiously watching the metal glitter in the fluorescent lights of the store. 

“Yes…” Shilo agrees distractedly, disappearing into a clothing rack almost immediately after and emerging with a black frilly dress shirt — remarkably similar to the one he currently wears — in his hands. “Something like this, then?”

“No way, dude,” Emizel shakes his head. “I said casual! Plus, that literally looks exactly like what you’re wearing right now.” 

Shilo furrows his brow, gesturing to his chest. His fingers brush against the twin columns of ruffles that cascade down the silky fabric. “Yes? This is my casual shirt.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I'm not! I even forwent a waistcoat, I was in such a hurry to get us out the door!” He suddenly looks embarrassed, a tinge of pink painting his cheeks. “Oh, no. This was not the proper attire to meet someone as distinguished as the vampire Sephora. And certainly not befitting of a prince! Grefgor, Grefgor, do you think she believes me to be lowly?”

Grefgor’s expression is a mix of solemn and stony as he makes contact with Shilo’s large, pleading eyes staring up at him. “Never, my prince.”

Despite looking reassured, Shilo still collapses against his guard, sticking his pointed nose against his chestplate like an awkward woodpecker as Grefgor pats his back sympathetically. 

“Look,” Emizel says, “How about we all just pick out some shit ourselves and I’ll try it on? That way everyone gets their input.” Murmurs of agreement, some more muffled than others, ring out through the group, and they get to work, keeping a watchful eye of the clock that now reads eight forty-one. 

When everyone is done, Shilo tosses a barrage of clothes into Emizel’s arms and marches him into the dressing room, shutting the door a little too loudly behind him. Various struggled noises surge out of the room soon after, including several deafening crashes, a slide whistle, a squeaky ball bouncing, and a particularly painful fall — judging by the resounding FUCK! afterwards, at least.

Finally, looking a little worse for wear, Emizel emerges from the dressing room. He’s dressed in all black and wearing possibly more layers than he began with, somehow. He sports a long trench coat overtop of a black button-up and vest, long straight-legged dress pants and leather ankle boots, accessorised with three necklaces of various lengths, black leather fingerless gloves, and a chain that hangs at his waist.

“I don’t know about this, Arthur, man,” he says, doing a spin upon the request of a quizzical-looking Shilo. “I look like I have a bomb.”

Arthur pushes his glasses up his nose, then, with a long, drawn out sigh, makes a dismissive gesture for Emizel to return to the dressing room and hangs his head. Void meows sympathetically. 

When he comes out this time, he’s wearing a shirt printed to look like a naked chest, one that very much does not match his own body type, paired with cargo jorts, knee high socks with the same square yellow character as the hoodie he discarded, blindingly red oversized crocs, and a hat with a cup holder and straw on either side. The cap is proudly embroidered with the words ‘I EAT DRYWALL’ and topped off by a single spinning propeller. Underneath it all is a black bodysuit made of thick fabric, a pattern resembling the skeletal system just visible on his limbs and his… unzipped fly. Shilo screams instantly upon seeing him, hurling his cape at his horrifically dressed brother with enough adrenaline-enhanced strength to knock him backwards into the dressing room again and out of his sight. 

“My prince! Are you alright?” Grefgor asks, looking unsure even to himself which prince he’s referring to. 

“I’m chilling,” Emizel replies from under a pile of clothes, his tone the verbal equivalent of a thumbs up. Shilo, meanwhile, has both hands on the sides of his head.

“Emizel, I don’t even want to know where you got that from, but you are absolutely not going on a date wearing some poor human’s skin! That is horrific!” Laughter bubbles out from the dressing room, much to Shilo’s dismay. “And you are laughing about it!?”

“No, Shilo, man! Here! Look!” Emizel calls between laughs, tossing the skin-shirt over the room door. Shilo screams again as it flies his way, ducking under the arm that Grefgor lifts to perfectly catch it midair. 

“Grefgor I do not want to even look at it,” Shilo mumbles, gaze locked on the floor. Grefgor pinches the material, moving it around with his gloved fingertips briefly. 

“It appears to… actually just be fabric, my prince,” He concludes. Shilo stands back up.

“Oh shit, for real?” Reluctantly, he also outstretches a hand to feel the fabric. It is, indeed, fabric. “Okay, well, it is still terrible and horrible and I would like it out of my sight immediately. Perhaps just remove it from this world entirely.”

“Right away, my prince,” Grefgor nods, pulling out a match from somewhere in his armour and promptly marching out of the Hot Topic, returning a minute later with an uncharacteristically harrowed look in his eyes. 

“Grefgor did what had to be done, my prince.”

“Thank you, Grefgor,” Shilo says solemnly. “Emizel, please change now before I am compelled to set the rest of that outfit on fire with you in it.” Emizel blows a raspberry.

The next time he emerges, Emizel wears a costume that upon first glance, seems fairly similar to Grefgor’s usual metal-clad attire. With further inspection though, it becomes glaringly obvious that all his ‘armour’ is soft and squishy, and that there are obnoxious Party City tags hanging off of his elbow. Every head turns to Grefgor.

“Grefgor, why is this costume from the City of Parties?”

“I made a quick pit stop after I was finished disposing of the offending shirt, my prince.”

“But you were only gone for like a minute?”

Grefgor sniffs. “Yes.”

Emizel waves his arms around stiffly, seemingly unable to bend his elbows — or put his arms down. “I think you got this in the kid’s sizes, man. I feel like a penguin.”

Grefgor tries very hard not to smile. “No, my prince, this is exactly how it should be worn. You may feel like a penguin, but you are indeed now a strong and glorious bird, ready to defend your beloved from all harm that may come his way on your excursion.”

Arthur sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t lie to the boy. Everyone knows that penguins are not birds.” The face Shilo makes is indescribable.

“So is this what I’m going with? I’m not hearing any objections,” Emizel asks nervously.

“No! No. No. You have yet to try on my pick. Then we will decide,” Shilo says, holding up a finger. He pushes his barely mobile brother back into the dressing room, practically sliding him across the floor. He lands with another loud crash. 

“Um. Shilo?” He asks, voice muffled. “Can you help me out here? I’m… kinda stuck.” Shilo turns back around, opening the dressing room door to find his brother collapsed face-down on the floor, wrapped up in the tiny knight costume with his limbs restrained at his sides like a worm. 

Shilo begins to help his brother up, his laugh quickly turning into a yelp as Emizel springs up from his worm facade and the door slams behind them. Arthur, Grefgor, and Void share a look as an onslaught of sounds blast out from the room: more crashes, a spring being launched into the air, a cuckoo clock chiming, and a Wilhelm scream. 

“My? My princes? Are you alright in there?”

A flurry of dust bursts out from behind the twins when the door opens. 

Shilo’s eyes are wide and haunted when he emerges, completely unmoving save for his twitching left eye and hands which are quickly being balled into shaky fists. His outfit is… suspiciously familiar. Emizel, in contrast, looks pretentious, faux adjusting the emerald cape now pinned to his ruffled white shirt — the very same one Shilo was wearing moments before.

“I always wondered whether this getup would fit me,” Emizel thinks out loud, comically calm for the manoeuvre he just pulled. 

“Emizel. Why did you have. Two of them?” Shilo rumbles through gritted teeth. The prince can barely contain his rage, wearing the very same shirt he instructed Grefgor to destroy just minutes ago. Emizel blows air at the top of Shilo’s head, now able to reach it with the poorly tied heels on his feet. The propeller on his hat spins stupidly.

“I figured something like that would happen,” He grins with all his teeth. 

Grefgor is blinking rapidly, pivoting his head back and forth between the two. “My pr. My. My prince. My princes.” He reaches out a hand to tap Arthur on the shoulder and flinches when he lands on thin air. He looks over his shoulder to find Arthur and Void talking down an extremely concerned looking employee, the latter of which continuously glancing over to the three of them at the dressing room. When Grefgor turns back around, Emizel is smiling at him dopily while Shilo death glares at nothing in particular, propeller still spinning. An involuntary snort escapes his nose at the tableau before him. 

Grefgor’s smile drops when he notices a crazed look in Shilo’s eyes finally surface, instantly springing into action to restrain his prince from mauling his brother and all adjacent employees. “My apologies, my prince. I am so sorry, my prince. I believe I have a cold. Please forgive me, my prince, it was just a sneeze. Please stop thrashing, my prince. My prince.”

Grefgor holds him under his arm like a football, restricting him from moving away but allowing his limbs plenty of flailing room as he dangles in place. Emizel’s eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and mouth pulled into a long, thin line as he watches his brother swipe at him.

“Oh shit, is he fucking frenzying?”

Grefgor tightens his grip ever so slightly, hoisting Shilo upwards. “It. It would appear that way, my prince.”

Arthur finishes talking to the employee and turns back around to see the polite little prince hissing and snarling like a wild animal, swiping and baring his fangs at his brother — inexplicably wearing his clothes — as Grefgor awkwardly presses him against his side with one hand and scratches his head with the other. Arthur blinks. He turns himself around a hundred and eighty degrees and begins heading towards the exit. 

“My- My boy!” Grefgor calls after him. Arthur stops in his tracks, sighs dramatically, and turns back around again. He reaches into his coat pocket as he approaches, pulling out his flask. 

“Oh, no alcohol in the store, please, sir-,” an employee attempts as he strides right past them. Arthur stops when he reaches his boys, closing his eyes and shaking his head for a moment. Void meows in agreement from the Sephora bag. 

“Shilo,” he says simply, approaching the boy. He leans down, unscrewing the cap of his flask before carefully pouring its contents into his mouth. Blood drips down his chin and stains his already terrible shirt further. After a few seconds, Shilo blinks and stops flailing, now hanging limply in Grefgor’s arm. Gently, he rotates his prince upright and stands him back up. 

Shilo inhales sharply, instinctively going to readjust his clothing and finding nothing of value when he does. He wipes the blood from his chin with his shoulder and exhales. 

“I think- I think we are done here.” He looks humiliated, his cheeks so bright pink the others look monochrome in comparison. The corners of his eyes glisten red with the threat of tears. 

“Aw, Shilo, hey, I’m sorry man,” Emizel puts a hand on his shoulder, still bloody. “I didn’t think you’d freak out like that. But, uh, don’t go yet, okay? I still gotta try on your outfit, don’t I? The. Shit. The one you picked out for me, not the-” He’s cut off by the sound of shaky laughter next to him as Shilo shrugs off his hand. 

“You’re right, you’re right. This shirt is absolutely getting destroyed, though.” 

The next time Emizel exits the dressing room, he’s preceded by Shilo, who, now back to his regular outfit, excitedly spreads his arms out to present his brother. He sports a long, white collared shirt with a grayish-blue tie tied loosely around his neck, an open vest just barely visible underneath his oversized leather Demons jacket, a studded belt weaved in between the loops of dark baggy jeans, and clean black sneakers. Even Emizel seems stunned by how good it looks. 

“So? What do you all think? I tried to take your ‘casual’ advice to heart, as much as it hurt me to do, but I thought it would be best if I were to try to match your style a little more.”

“Yeah dude, I mean, fuck. This is actually pretty nice. I fuck with this.” Shilo does a great rendition of Grefgor’s patented confused smile.

“Well, if my princes approve, then so do I,” Grefgor declares, giving Shilo a warm look. 

“It’s suitable,” Arthur approves. “Although, I still believe you should try wearing pants that fit you one of these days.” 

“I’m only going to wear pants that go up to my ankles from now on because you said that. I’m gonna fucking waddle around forever now ‘cause you said that to me.”

“Then you really would be a penguin, my prince!”

With a grin, Emizel goes back to the dressing room and changes into his original terrible look (plus some new yellow socks), then stuffs the chosen outfit into a tote bag from a nearby display. He loops the bag  — reading VAMPIRE BABE in sparkling gothic font — around his shoulder. The group begins to leave the store when a loud beeping suddenly assaults their ears. An employee rushes towards them.

“Excuse me, sir, I think you forgot to pay for an item you have there.” 

Shilo looks bewildered at the employee, but a staunch bout of eye contact accompanies his next words. “What? Oh, we will not be doing that. Thank you for the suggestion, though.”

The employee blinks, and their eyes glaze over. ‘Huh. Alright then. Have a nice day, sir.”

“I will!” He replies cheerfully. The beeping still blares obnoxiously as the vampires conspicuously exit the store premises, leaving behind a handful of scrambling employees. As soon as they’re out of sight, Shilo grabs the Sephora bag from Arthur, prompting Void to leap out and slink up her owner’s arm until she rests back on his shoulders. 

“I suspect we do not have the time to return to the hotel before the date, now,” Shilo figures. “Arthur, is there a bathroom in this mal?” Arthur glances around for a few seconds, then spots a bathroom sign up ahead. He points it out, and in an instant, Shilo has his brother’s wrist in hand and is sprinting as fast as his little legs can take him. 

⋆⋆⋆

Shilo pulls his brother through the bathroom door, yanking him forward with a stumble as he barely finds his own footing and settles against the sink counter. 

“Hey! Careful!” Emizel yelps, his wrist constrained by a surprisingly tight grip. He narrowly avoids slipping with his socked foot and falling directly on his ass only by virtue of spinning and falling onto Shilo instead. Shilo lets out a noise of surprise and pushes him backwards, giving Emizel a moment to stabilise. He tosses his Hot Topic tote bag on the floor. 

“Jesus. They should really tell you when the floor is wet in here,” Emizel scoffs as he kicks away the plastic yellow sign blocking his way to the sink. 

Shilo brushes himself off as best as he can, readjusting his cape and pushing back the loose locks of hair from his forehead. Emizel takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror, also sweeping his bangs back in a futile attempt to mimic his brother’s neatness and ending up looking far worse than he did a second ago. He makes a sour face and huffs in frustration. He glances over to his reflection’s left, where Shilo should be, and is shocked to see nothing but the bathroom stalls reflected back at him. 

“Shi-?” He starts, cutting himself off as he whips his head around to where Shilo should be standing, and is very much standing, looking at him with slight confusion as he pulls out the various products from his little striped bag and sets them on the counter in front of him. 

“Yes, Emizel?” Shilo asks, picking up a tube of grayish concealer and a large brush from the menagerie and rolling them over in his fingers unconsciously. “Really, I think it would be best if you were to wash your face first.” 

“Ah. Yeah. Alright.” Emizel agrees, shucking off his oversized Demons jacket on the counter next to him. He turns on the cold water and begins splashing his face.

“You didn’t tell me you didn’t, uh, have a reflection,” He notes mid splash, words slightly garbled through the water. Shilo looks surprised at this.

“Hm. I guess I didn’t. I assumed, since, you know, it is such a common trait among vampires, it was not worth the mention,” He reasons. Emizel shrugs as he shuts the tap off.

“Maybe. But I haven’t met a lot of vampires,” He says, wiping the excess water with his forearm and shaking his hair around like a dog to dry off. Unsurprisingly, his hair looks better like this. Shilo flinches at the droplets that fly his way and flicks off the one that lands on his cheek. “Sorry.”

Shilo hums. “Don’t worry about it. There are more pressing issues at hand.” He starts to twist open the concealer, then pauses with a frown. “Such as how there is nowhere for you to sit.” 

“Sure there is,” Emizel replies, hoisting himself up with his arms and hopping up onto the counter with his back to the mirror. Shilo gasps.

“Emizel!” He exclaims. “It’s all wet!” 

“I’m gonna be changing anyways, it’s fine.” He drags out the last word. 

Shilo purses his lips. “Well, you are lucky I wore my heels today,” he says, moving to be in front of his brother and punctuating his steps with a particularly loud click as if to emphasize his point. Emizel grins, looking down at him only slightly.

“You wear your heels every day, man. I don’t think you even can wear anything else at this point. You probably got, like, Barbie doll feet by now.” Shilo looks at him curiously.

“Who is this ‘Barbie doll’?” He asks, finally twisting open the tube and beginning to pat little gray dots onto Emizel’s face. Emizel instinctively shuts his eyes tight as the applicator comes close, earning a disapproving tut tut from his brother.

“I’ve got a lot of movies I need to show you after this,” Emizel responds. Rather mysteriously, Shilo thinks. Regardless, he is quick to get to work covering up discolourations and blemishes, laughing as he shoos away Emizel’s hands when he reacts to the brush on his skin.

“Emizel, I can’t work when you are grabbing at me!” Shilo giggles, gently smacking at the hand attempting to restrain his wrist. Emizel pulls back, embarrassed.

“Sorry, man! Instinct, or something. I don’t know.” 

“What, you think I am… attacking you?” Shilo asks, barely holding back another laugh. 

Emizel furrows his brows. “No! Shut up, dude! Shut up!” 

Shilo pushes onwards, eventually calming down from his giggle fit as Emizel warms up to the strange and unfamiliar sensations attacking him from all fronts. He pauses once he’s done with each product, giving Emizel the chance to peer at his reflection in the mirror behind him as Shilo fetches the next items. The process is more intuitive than Shilo had anticipated; he is eternally relieved for that. Emizel also appears to be fascinated with each step, taking in every change of his reflection. Shilo, oddly, feels a small pang of jealousy each time his brother turns to examine his appearance. 

When it reaches the time for eyeshadow, Shilo lets his brother pick out the palette. He chooses just black, at first, but is more than happy to let Shilo try his suggestion of layering a bold currant colour on beforehand. Emizel flinches again as the small brush comes close, smartly choosing to adhere to Shilo’s second suggestion of perhaps closing his eyes for this step, even if it means he can’t see how he looks. He nearly reacts a third time when he hears, just outside of the bathroom, a familiar British voice not-so-quietly request someone to use the ladies’ room for the time being.

A funny feeling of bewilderment strikes Shilo as he works away, pausing for a second with the thought that settles in his head. Emizel sneaks open an eye.

“Something wrong?” He asks, an unreadable expression falling over Shilo’s face. Shilo shakes his head, gesturing for Emizel to close his eye again.

“No, no! It is just funny how much easier this is when I can see what I am doing. No wonder Grefgor learned so quickly. It must have been like walking in the park.” Emizel hums in response, then actually processes what he just heard. 

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve just been doing this shit blind for years?”

Shilo looks sheepish. “...Yes?”

Emizel’s mouth hangs slightly open, his mind mulling over all the stupidly complicated looks he’d seen his brother wear in just the short time he’s known him, and then his own pitiful attempt at doing guyliner a few years back: leaning over a dingy bathroom sink with his face so close to the mirror his nose practically pressed up against the glass and promptly poking himself in the eye with his black Crayola pencil at least a dozen times. “No, no, nothing. Fuckin’ wizard. Nothing. Whatever.” 

Shilo snorts, somehow still daintily. “I could teach you too, if that would be something you’d like to do. Grefgor could help as well.” A pause. “Maybe when we are in less of a time crunch, though.”

Something pulls at Emizel’s chest at the thought. “That could be fun, yeah.” 

Is this brotherhood? 

Emizel feels four fingers lightly smack his cheek twice, signalling he can open his eyes. Before he turns around to check his work, he sees Shilo smile — a little toothily, he notes. The tiniest hint of his fangs poke out from under his lip. It makes him look younger, somehow, likening his excited grin to a little kid playing dress up for the first time. Which, if Emizel thinks about it, is exactly what he is. He resists the urge to ruffle his hair.

Maybe it is.

“Now, all we have left is the eyeliner. Your eyeshadow is already pretty dark, but it’ll help accentuate it a little more. Make it look complete,” Shilo says as Emizel peers at his reflection. “Actually… you seem to be pretty sensitive with things near your eyes. Would you like to do this part yourself, Emizel?”

Emizel makes a face, suddenly blasted back to that lame memory. “No, no, no, that’s not a good idea. I’ll keep my eyes so open, don’t even worry about it.” 

“Are you sure?” Shilo asks, almost sing-songy and absolutely trying to goad his brother into trying it out. Emizel sees right through his fiendish tricks.

“Okay, maybe I'll do it for like, a second. But if I mess it up and we don’t have time to fi-”

“If you mess up, it will be hidden by your eyeshadow,” Shilo interjects sweetly. “Speaking of time, while you do that, I will take all these pesky tags off the clothes in our other bag. That way, they will be all ready for you when you’re done.”

“You just think of everything, don’t you?”

“Of course! In fact, I had Grefgor snag me these from the vampire Sephora!” Shilo clicks a pair of mini nail scissors together. “The store, not the, ah, person.”

When he reaches for the eyeliner, Shilo suddenly notices an unfortunately familiar small, wine coloured tube of lip gloss among the other products, evidently having been snuck into the bag upon purchase. 

“Emizel!” He chastises with no real malice. “Did you sneak V… Vampire Sex Blast in here?” His hesitation before saying the product name is palpable. Emizerl instantly bursts out laughing.

“What?! No!? Oh my god, dude!” He snickers. “Is it actually there?” Shilo picks it up hesitantly, slowly lifting it from the counter to show his brother, who laughs even harder upon recognition, throwing his head back and smacking it against the bathroom mirror. He reels forward, still laughing, as Shilo also fights back a smile.

“If you wanted it so bad, Emizel, you could have just said!”

“It wasn’t me, man! I’m telling you!” 

Shilo hands him the eyeliner, a thin black pencil with a rounded tip, and gets to work with his scissors, dutifully snipping off tags. Emizel braces himself for his ultimate test, silently pumping himself up as he leans in way too close to the mirror again. He tries to readjust his wrist on the counter, then slips on the excess water from his prior splashing. He brushes the water off and tries again. 

With an unsteady hand, he wets the tip of the pencil and presses it to the edge of his eyelid, drawing an equally wiggly line around his eye. He curses, trying to wipe off the product and only succeeding in smudging it further. Emizel almost goes for a paper towel, but stops when he notices that the smudging actually has improved the look. Cautiously, he replicates it as best as he can on the other eye, sweating up a storm with his attempt at precision. Shilo, meanwhile, hums a simple tune and bounces jovially as he snips and tosses tags into the trash bin. With a little more working up, Emizel goes for his waterlines next, mentally punching himself every time he feels the inclination to cringe.

By the time he’s finished, Shilo has too, and he quickly ushers his brother into a bathroom stall, tote bag of clothes in hand. Another round of raucous tripping and cursing later, Emizel emerges one last time, finally ready — minus his jacket, which Shilo playfully drapes across his shoulders. He steps back, letting Emizel approach the mirror once more to inspect his appearance. 

Stepping on the nominally drier floor, Emizel almost doesn’t recognize himself. He looks clean, almost put-together, and completely different from how he did at the start of the night. Taking it all in, he thinks the makeup is mostly responsible for this; The intense, smokey colour around his eyes isn’t something he’s used to seeing on himself — rather, it’s much more emblematic of Shilo’s appearance. Emizel adjusts one of his lip piercings in the mirror. If it weren’t for those, and perhaps the shaggy mess of hair on his head, he thinks maybe he could pass as him. 

Enthralled by his new look, and definitely assisted by his brother’s absence of a reflection, Emizel doesn’t notice the hand threatening to ruffle his hair until it’s far, far too late for him to plan and execute a counterattack. He yells cartoonishly as Shilo shakes him around in excitement.

“Hey!” He exclaims, wrestling Shilo’s hand off his head. Shilo just laughs, stepping backwards again.

“Just helping you complete your ‘casual’ look! You talk all this talk of being informal, yet I have yet to see you loosen up about this date!” Emizel smiles, consciously relaxing his shoulders. He slips his jacket on properly, making sure to adjust it first to make his brother proud, and takes a step back himself. 

“Yeah, man. You’re right. You’re right. Fuck.” Emizel wastes no time wrapping his twin brother in a tight hug, effectively surprising him back. “Thank you, Shilo. You’re a good brother.”

He can practically feel the light radiating from Shilo’s smile as he hugs him back. After one last squeeze, Emizel draws away with a matching one. 

“You can thank me again when you get back. Now, go have fun! Quickly! We must be nearly out of time!” Shilo pushes his brother towards the door with mirth. 

“Shit!” Emizel exclaims, hopping into a sprint as he dashes out, passing by a blasé Arthur and Void, an eagerly waving Grefgor, and one very long line to the men’s bathroom. 

⋆⋆⋆

Emizel kicks up dust as he halts his sprint as quickly as he started it, recognizing the surrounding streets and tall buildings that populate every corner he sweeps past. He has no idea what time it is; he left his flip phone in his other pants, tossed haphazardly into the bedazzled tote bag on the bathroom floor. 

It doesn’t seem to matter, though. When he rounds another corner, just a block away from his precious shitty alley, he doesn’t see any sign of Theo anywhere. Great! He’s not late. Walking at a brisk pace now, Emizel can feel his nerves start to bubble back up through his body, giving him shivers despite his hellishly warm jacket. He takes his hands out of his pockets to shake them around, echoing his brother’s words in his mind: Loosen up!

Man. How is Shilo the one telling him to loosen up? Why is he so nervous, anyways? It’s casual. It doesn’t mean anything! Well. Maybe there’s his problem. Maybe he wants it to mean something. 

A familiar street light bathes him in vivid red light as he finally approaches the alley. Emizel had never thought about it before, but in retrospect, it did make sense why a city run by vampires would want to install bat-friendly lighting on its streets. He’d never stopped to think about the bats the hundreds of times he hung out here with Theo, though. Rather, in his selfish mind, the crimson wash had only been there to make their little hideaway just that much more magical. 

Emizel feels that magic start to thrum though his chest again when he sees a silhouette, running just as he had been mere minutes ago, come into view at the end of the street. Fully immersed in the vibrant red that Emizel had come to associate with him and panting heavily, Theo sprints towards him with a loose wave, gesturing wildly above his head. Once his best friend’s face surfaces from the ocean of scarlet surrounding it, Emizel feels all of his nerves suddenly melt away.

“Theo!” He calls out, picking up his own pace to meet him halfway and spare him the extra breath. 

“Emizel!” Theo calls back breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut as he meets him in a hug and nearly spins him around while he’s at it. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late dude, you must’ve been waiting out here for hou…” Theo trails off as he pulls back, suddenly speechless as he takes in Emizel’s face up close. Emizel is at a loss for words, too — too stunned to even process what was said to him when he sees Theo. 

Through the red hue cast over him, Emizel can make out the smallest hint of a darker colour in the outer corners of Theo’s eyes, intensifying his already warm gaze and making it so damn hard for Emizel to tear his away from him. His hair is freshly dyed and near blinding, bangs no longer neat — if they ever were — but still falling over his forehead and framing his face wonderfully. His numerous facial piercings glitter and gleam in the light. Emizel’s mouth falls slightly open as he lingers a little too long at the ones near Theo’s lips. 

“Dude. You look so fucking hot,” Theo says, his breath suddenly escaping him again. Emizel blinks at him dumbly. What had he been worried about, exactly?

“You do too. Fuck. I could kiss you right now,” Emizel replies, words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Shit! Theo’s eyes widen slightly — almost scared — before a big smile breaks out from his lips. 

“I guess we both had a bit of a makeover today, huh?” He asks, pulling back slightly to give Emizel a gentle elbow. Emizel grins back at him, sharp teeth on full display.

“I’ve got some crazy shit to tell you about tonight, man,” He admits. Theo draws back from their embrace fully, situating himself comfortably at Emizel’s side. 

“You can tell me all about it on the walk there, then,” He says, his voice soft and gaze pointedly drifting down at Emizel’s hand as he laces their fingers together. 

⋆⋆⋆

Shilo hands Arthur the Sephora bag, watching the older vampire curiously as he seems to scan its contents before taking it back. As he turns around to leave the mall, Shilo sees out of the corner of his eye Arthur reach into the bag and stash an all-too-familiar wine coloured lip gloss into his pocket and smile before letting Void hop on board. She shuts her eyes with a contented purr. 

Well, he thinks as he leans into Grefgor’s shoulder. It seems everyone got what they wanted tonight. 

[it-happened-one-fic]

600 Followers Event: "Once Upon a Time..."

Books have a certain magic about them that can transport the reader to an entirely other world, where they can live out the adventures of the protagonist from the safety of their favorite chair. However, what of a magic book that really can transport you, and perhaps even a companion, to another world entirely so you really can experience such a magical tale?

Sit back and experience such a story of your choosing. All you need to do is choose that special book and start reading. And how do such tales start?

Ah, yes. "Once Upon a Time....."

600 Followers! And I’m actually ready for an event this time! In celebration and as a thank you to everyone, I came up with this event. You can send in requests by choosing a fandom, story type, and book from the lists below and I'll write a corresponding fic! I’m aiming to do six fics total and I'll provide a countdown with scored out numbers to show how many fic requests are left. I look forward to your requests and hope everyone enjoys themselves!

Choose a Fandom:  Twisted Wonderland or Genshin Impact

Choose your Story:

A Martial Legacy  

A High Fantasy Adventure

A Gothic Romance 

A Seafaring Voyage

A Charming Fairytale

A Courtly Drama

Choose the Book:

A softly bound leather book that falls open the moment you pull it from the shelf. 

An aged tome with a heavy metal clasp that holds it tightly shut.

A book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric.

A thick, newly printed novel whose story is yet to be told.

A freshly printed hardcover with blood red pages.

A tome whose binding is slowly unraveling as the cover attempts to fall away and reveal the yellowed pages beyond.

 A timeworn novel whose title is unreadable from the number of hands who’ve held it.

6 fics left! 5 fics left! 4 fics left! 3 fics left! 2 fics left! 1 fic left!

CLOSED! I'll try to get the remaining requested fics posted this upcoming Friday! Thank you again!!

[flightlessangelwings]

Trust and Intuition Chapter 3- The Rebels

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 3.2k

Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Din, soft!Din, feelings, we learn about reader’s backstory, drama, leading up to action

Notes- This is the biggest change to this story in this rewrite. I basically re wrote this part from scratch, save for 2 little scenes (the kiss and the last exchange with Din). I also made reader’s backstory more ambiguous compared to what it was in the original. I also added smut because why not lol! Enjoy and thank you for reading!

Fic is tagged if you want to catch up on parts you missed! To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Your highness!” an older man with grey hair and a warm, kind face greeted you the moment the Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest at the rebel base on Durane.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you ran towards him with your arms wide, “Sion!” you sighed in relief as you crashed into him, both of you embracing each other tightly, “It’s been too long!” You paused as you pulled away to meet his gaze, “But I told you not to call me that. You’ve known me since before I was a queen, and that’s all I want to be to you.”

Sion grinned at you like a proud father, “You were always a queen to me even before you could walk straight,” he nudged your nose playfully, “And I’ll always be proud of the woman you grew up to be,” his gaze trailed over your shoulder to the Mandalorian and the child who made their way off the ship. Sion looked at you, and when you nodded, he made his way over to him with his hand out, “Thank you, Mando,” he greeted him, “Our transports have been down, and I wasn’t sure how we would get these kids out this time. I’m more in debt to you than you realize.”

The Mandalorian took his hand and shook it, “No debt is necessary,” he said softly as he glanced over to the children who cautiously followed behind him, “Children should always have a place where they are safe,” he glanced down at his own foundling as he spoke.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sion beamed at him before he addressed the children, “Come this way kids,” he guided them inside, “There’s food and a place to rest your heads for the night.”

The children’s faces lit up as their energy seemed to spark back at the mention of a warm meal and a safe roof over their heads. Gleefully, they bounded inside, following Sion’s lead while you and the Mandalorian tailed behind. Mando couldn’t help but notice the relief on your face as you found yourself in need of safety as well…

*

“Vero has Dria in a grip,” you spoke at the table where Sion, Mando and you gathered, “At first glance, things seem normal, but there’s more going on than anyone realizes. He’s taking children for Maker knows what, he’s hiding and destroying texts and books, he’s openly allowing stormtroopers in the palace now…” you turned to Sion with a pleading look in your eyes, “We have to do something before the Empire destroys everything Dria stands for.”

Sion sighed as he ran his hand across his face, “What can we do though?” he sounded defeated already, “He has an army. He has the Empire at his back. We number 30 at most.”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled as you dropped your head, “But I think he knows I’m the vigilante…”

Sion breathed your name as concern laced his face. He glanced over at the Mandalorian, “We’ve all lost everything at the hands of the Empire. Families. Friends. We’re all we have left.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mando said. 

Encouraged by Mando’s words, you lifted your head up and a fresh conviction was apparent in your eyes, “Everyone thinks the empire is gone, that we won,” you spoke with authority that you learned from your time as queen,  “But that’s not true, and I think you know that. They’re all around us, planting seeds that they wait patiently to grow. But it’s our job to stop that. We have to stop their weeds from taking root and growing so big that they choke us and take out our light. I’ve been fighting this nettle since I was small, so have you Sion, and I don’t plan on stopping until either they die… or I do.” 

Mando watched with his breath caught in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to think, or even what to do next. All he knew was he wanted to help you and the others. “So what’s your plan then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

All Mando wanted to do was reach out to you, but he stayed still. His eyes never left you, though. 

Sensing the tension, Sion interjected, “How about we rest for the night,” he looked at you with melancholy in his eyes, “I think we all need it especially after what you two have been through.” 

*

The Mandalorian sat alone in the little room he had been given for the night. An empty bowl sat in front of him as he gently guided his helmet back into his head. The silence echoed in the room as he sat alone with his thoughts, wondering what he should do next, and how to keep you and everyone else safe. The image of your face lingered in his mind as he let out a sigh to himself.

But a knock at his door broke Mando out of his thoughts. He quickly stood and opened the door, relieved to find you on the other side. He breathed your name as he stepped aside and allowed you in, “Is everything alright?”

A soft smirk briefly graced your face, “I came by to ask you the same thing,” you glanced over at the empty bowl, “I hope that was ok for you…”

“It’s fine,” Mando cut you off as he moved next to you.

You looked around, “And your kid? The others?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Mando replied, “Your father took all the kids to get something to eat.”

“He’s fine with them,” you reassured the Mandalorian, sensing the concern in his tone, “Sion is the closest thing I have to family left,” you thought out loud.

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted, “We’ve all lost nearly everything to the Empire. We have to hold on to all the family that we can,” you met his vizor, “Otherwise we would all be completely alone. It’s been lonely enough being married to Vero. But the rebels needed a spy on the inside… And it appeared that I was his type…” you let out a deep breath, “Sion almost had a heart attack when I told him I’d do it,” you laughed bitterly, “The sacrifices are worth it though, as king as those kids are safe,” you fired a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Even if I have to do this alone.” 

Mando reached out and squeezed your shoulder as he spoke your name, “You’re not alone. As long as I’m here, you’re not alone.” It was then he made a silent promise to himself to protect you, and he realized in that moment just how much you meant to him. He also felt a wave of anger towards Vero and what you must have gone through to remain a spy for the rebels. 

You looked at him with wide eyes and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his energy. In his touch, you could feel how he cared. You felt as though the two of you shared a special connection, and you wondered if he felt the same way. Warmth spread across your face as your thoughts turned from your past to your present.

“Do you trust me?” you asked him as you lay your hand on top of his. Nerves pulsed through your veins, but you fingered you only had this one night and it was now or never.

“Yes,” his answer came without hesitation. 

You ripped a long piece of fabric off your shirt and wrapped it tightly around your eyes. When it was secure and your vision was completely blocked, you reached up to his helmet. You could feel his gloved hands over yours as he helped you take it off. You listened as he set his helmet down.

When his hand cupped your face, you realized he took his gloves off as well and it was his bare skin against yours. You reached out and felt his chest in front of you, the beskar cold under your touch. You moved your hands up to feel his face. It was warm and you could feel scruff along his jawline. His gaze was fixed on your lips as your hands roamed over his face and into his hair.

He kept one hand on your cheek and his other securely on your waist. Slowly, he pulled you close to him and gently touched his lips to yours. It was a light kiss at first, then you deepened the kiss as you held onto his soft hair. Your tongues danced to a song without music as waves of feelings rushed from the two of you. The kiss spoke more than words could for either of you as both your and Mando’s emotions ran wild.

Reluctantly, you broke away for air, but your faces did not stray far from each other. Mando rubbed his thumb over your cheek tenderly as he studied every inch of your face. He pulled you close again as he rested his face against yours. You held onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. Even though his vision wasn’t blocked, Mando had the same fear.

It was then you heard his voice, “Din.”

“What?” Your voice was just a whisper.

“My name. It’s Din Djarin,” he repeated softly.

With this, you knew how much he trusted you, and it made you realize how much you cared about him. Din held you tightly as you both enjoyed these last few quiet moments together. You were both fully aware of what was to come, and that this may be the last time you would have a moment like this.  

Feeling a sudden sense of need, Din pulled you against him as he guided both your bodies back towards the cot that sat in the far end of the room. Trusting him fully, you didn’t resist at all, and you sighed as you felt his strong grip on you. 

“Is this ok?” Din asked in a whisper as his lips hovered over yours and his hands gripped at your clothes.

“Yes,” you answered immediately. It was more than ok. It was what you had wanted since he took your hand. And unbeknownst to you, the Mandalorian had the exact same thoughts.

You lifted your arms as he carefully stripped you of your shirt first, then his hands wandered down your body. Goosebumps erupted on your skin at the feeling of his bare hands on you, and you shivered despite feeling warm. You heard his breath hitch in his throat as he stopped and cupped your breasts and soft moans escaped both your lips.

Din then unclasped your pants while you held onto his shoulders and stepped out of them eagerly. His hands landed on your now bare hips as he guided you once more towards the cot. His grab never faltered even as he fumbled backwards onto the cot, bringing you to straddle his waist.

“Fuck,” Din breathed.

You gasped, “What is it?”

“You’re beautiful,” his hands roamed up and down your body, memorizing every inch of you before he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as you parted your lips for him and slowly rocked yourself along his stiffening cock. Even though the fabric, he felt so good underneath you, and you instantly craved more. 

“Din,” you whined as you buried your fingers in his hair, “Please… I need you.”

He groaned through gritted teeth as his cock twitched, “I’ve got you,” Din’s voice was low and full of his own need. He kept one hand on you at all times as he fumbled with his own pants, eager to free his cock.

You slipped your hand in between your bodies to help him, and when your hand brushed against his cock, you let out a soft gasp. Din moaned as a pulse was sent through his veins the moment you touched him. And it only grew as you pumped his cock slowly while your lips hovered over his.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You’re perfect,” you echoed back as you lifted your hips and felt the tip of his cock as your entrance, “Fuck… Din…”

Both of you gasped loudly as you took him inside you. Heat radiated from your bodies as you sunk down on Din’s cock slowly, and both of you clung to each other as if your lives depended on it. Perhaps it felt like they did at that moment.

Once your hips met Din’s and he was fully inside you, engulfed in your warmth, Din tightened his grip on you and slowly thrust his hips as much as he could. Rocking into you from below, Din watched as your mouth dropped open and your breasts bounced from the motion. He was mesmerized as you rocked your hips to match his rhythm, and together the two of you lost yourselves in each other. 

Moans and soft sighs escaped both your lips as you rode Din. Your hands stayed on his beskar covered chest as leverage, but you felt safe and secure in his strong grip. Behind the darkness of your blindfold, you saw stars every time his cock sheathed fully inside you and hit that spot that drove you wild.

Din groaned your name as he ran his hands up your back until he cupped the back of your head. Using the leverage, he guided you forward and crashed your lips against his once more in another heated, and this time more desperate, kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as the new angle hit every sensitive spot inside you.

“Din… I’m…”

“Me too,” he groaned your name as he gripped you harder, “Let go… Cum for me mesh’la…”

With just a few more pumps of his cock, you came with a cry against Din’s lips. Your forehead stayed firmly against his as your release triggered his own as he came hard with a growl. Din wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close as he rocked his hips against yours, riding out both your climaxes together. 

Your entire body trembled as you felt Din spill himself inside you. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you until you couldn’t take it anymore and you collapsed down onto his chest. Din immediately held you close as he groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“You alright?” he asked in a whisper as he ran his hands up and down your sides, caressing your body.

“Perfect,” you breathed as you grinned against him, comfortable in his strong embrace. 

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you laid together in your afterglow. Eventually, you rolled off of Din and you both hissed as his softening cock slid out of you. He never let you go far, though, and he settled you into his arms as you rested your head against his chest. And while both of you were comfortable and content, the tension in the air still lingered as the uncertainty of your future silently hung over your heads. 

“Din?” you broke the silence with his name.

“Hm?” he muttered back as his grip tightened instinctively. 

“Can we just stay like this for a while longer?” your voice was just a whisper.

“Yes,” Din replied in a soft tone, “As long as you want, mesh’la.” 

*

The next day brought the challenges back as you, Din and Sion met with the rest of the rebels to plan your next move. Din never left your side, and his little green child sat in his pram right next to him. Sion glanced between you and the Mandalorian as if he could sense that something happened between the two of you last night, but he chose not to say anything for the time being. As long as this warrior was willing to stay and keep you safe, he was content for now. 

“We’re at a clear disadvantage,” you said, “But there are secret tunnels under the palace that we can use to launch a surprise attack,” you pulled up a holo map of the palace layout and pointed to a shadowed part, “We would need a distraction though… Something to pull the troops away from this wing,” you gentured to the south wall.

“What do you suggest?” Sion asked. He watched over you like a worried parent, though it did not escape his notice the way the Mandalorian never strayed far from your side.

“Vero has a bounty out on the Vigilante,” the smirk in Mandalorian’s voice was apparent as the two of you shared a knowing look, “Why don’t we collect on that?”

“Absolutely not,” Sion raised his hands, “You are not going to be the bait for this. I let you become his wife and be our spy, but I am not letting you put yourself on the line like that again.” He sounded like a worried father as his brows scrunched. 

You sighed as you gave him an exasperated look, “What choice do we have, Sion?”

Silence filled the room as everyone waited for him to reply. With a heavy breath, he finally conceded, “None…” he looked down for a moment then back up at you and Mando, “But I’m coming with you then. I’m not letting you face him alone.” 

“She won’t be alone. She’ll be safe,” Mando tried to reassure him as his hand brushed against yours.

“Captain,” Sion called to one of the other men, “Let’s get a plan going. We still have some other rebels hiding on Dria, don’t we? Let’s figure out a way to get to them.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt his presence at your side. It was quickly a comfort for you, and you felt more confident with the Mandalorian there. But, as the others chattered about the details of the plan, you glanced at the little one at his side. You felt a connection to the child somehow, and his big bright eyes made your heart flutter. 

You furrowed your brows as you asked, “What about the kid?” 

The child cooed happily at you in response. 

“He stays with me,” the Mandalorian said in a tone that left no room for argument.

“But Mando, it’ll be dangerous,” you protested, “Wouldn’t he be safer here with the other kids?”

“No,” his voice was firm but not harsh.

Your eyes darted around the room as if you tried to look for an answer on the walls or the floor. Everyone else drew a blank, and some looked almost afraid to go against the Mandalorian’s wishes. Then, an idea came to you, “Do you trust me?” you asked him in the same tone you used the night before. 

He looked directly at you, “Yes.”