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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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The Green Prince | Bluebeard!Aemond x Wife!Reader

-Based on the Fairytale 'Bluebeard'- Halloween Special!

Summary: Six wives before her mysteriously disappeared, and someone in Dragonstone calls for her once her new husband entrusts her with his master key | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: dub-con, arranged marriage, victorian england setting, era-typical sexism, murder, uxoricide, blood, toxic behaviour, apparitions/ghosts, manipulation, threats of violence

She's heard only tales of Aemond Targaryen.

The Green Prince of Dragonstone. A wealthy gentleman who often stayed within the confines of his estate.

When she abandoned the frills and wide smiles of girlhood, thrust into the pomp and practice of womanhood, that is when the stories began.

She had never seen him. And she began to believe, that the people around her who spoke of him never had either.

They were of a decent background, her and her family. Not overwhelmingly rich. But well-off is what her father always said.

Enough to employ a small army of servants.

Enough to never have to worry about the troubles of daily life that so often would hinder an everyday individual.

She doubted Aemond Targaryen ever had to worry about that either.

One fact that simply could not be frayed, was that he was royalty.

Only in the sense that he was utterly untouchable.

He had this elegance about him, they would say, a sort of curious exoticisim from the way his long, silver hair would drift down his back, to the way his inhuman purple eyes would glimmer, half lidded and looking straight ahead, as if he were piercing a knife through the individual with his gaze alone.

Though they were technically neighbours, she saw very little life pass through the iron gates of Dragonstone. His estate so vast, that by foot, she would have to commit a whole hour to simply brush by the border of what she deemed was a forbidden land.

There seemed an aura of darkness over it, that she could not quite comprehend. But one that intrigued her all the same.

Last year, at the same time as now, she had been considered a child. No better for company than being banished upstairs to dwindle about her books and writings, out of the way of adults and their serious business affairs.

What had really changed in 12 months, that they now considered her a woman?

She felt age had little to do with it.

She felt that she had been grown in her mind for some time, and had actually changed very little from the age of three and ten.

But now, at the tender age of nine and ten, there was still a girlish nature about her face. A brightness to her eyes, and a plumpness about her cheeks. One that her mother had once commented that men would find appealing in a wife.

And so here she was.

Dressed in her finery, a glass of wine in a crystal glass delicately placed in one hand, she stood beside her eldest brother, who had torn himself rather blatantly from a woman he himself was courting in favour of supporting his sweet, youngest sister.

"Do not, for the love of our mother, allow yourself to be approached by Mr Gardner. He has had five servants in as many months. I am sure you can understand why", her brother mused with a contented chuckle.

She did not know why. Nobody had told her plainly.

Sometimes she wished people would just be honest with her. And not assumed she knew the inner workings of people's minds, after years of being shut away upstairs by her parents and brother alike.

The foyer and adjoining rooms alike were filled with people, all pretending to make pleasantries with each other. And as the night dragged on, several well known bachelor's having tried their hand at impressing her, she found her glass of wine was not as endless as she thought.

When a servant had spotted her, appearing at her side to refill her glass, she had turned her body sideways and locked eyes, finally, with him.

The one people affectionately named, The Green Prince.

Like most of the men tonight, he was dressed in a suit with a long overcoat that covered his dark green waistcoat. So dark were the colours of his outfit, that they almost appeared black, like the rest of it.

His hair was loose, with a few strands falling to the front over his shoulders, and as her eyes trailed up to his pale collar, where a tie was loosely wrapped about his neck, she saw that when she met his gaze, he was already looking at her.

He held his glass in a manner most unbecoming. Hanging at his side, his long fingers grasping the edges so delicately, she was sure for a moment it was floating in his hold.

His finger, she noticed, tapped idly at the side of the room, as if deep in thought as he looked upon her.

She saw his gaze drop to her outfit, one that her mother had chosen for her. A red, almost burnt tea coloured dress, with very little flounce and fancy to it. The collar hung delicately at her shoulders, the bodice tight and the only detail of any colour was in the stitching of her skirt, which he noted was a shimmering gold.

When he lifted his eyes, he took a sip from his glass, still almost filled to the top, his burning lilac gaze hovering over the brim. She sucked in a breath, her own eyes flitting over his face. And to the patch that covered the left eye.

She didn't know why her chest felt tight, and why she hoped suddenly for the appearance of her brother. Or her father perhaps. He was staring at her so unabashedly, that for an unmarried woman such as herself, she would be looked upon with immense judgement if she were found to be staring back at him in the same manner.

Knowing his gaze was burning at the back of her head, perhaps tracing the intricate pattern of braids her hair had been styled in, she decided to ignore him, until he had the decency to approach and introduce himself to her properly.

As any good gentleman would.

She meandered through the menagerie of figures, careful to keep her wine close to her so that she wouldn't repeat the same embarrassment as last year when she spilled the entire glass down Mr Bray, whose wife near lost her voice with incessant shouting.

Her father, ever cheerful, as rich men so often are, materialised at her side, grasping her elbow and tugged his daughter close to him. His breath smelled like red wine as he whispered to her.

"It appears you have captured the special attention of Mr Targaryen, daughter"

Her father chuckled when her wide, terrified and yet curious eyes met his.

How could she have captured his attention, when she had done nothing at all? She thought.

She did not yet know, the charms that the appearance of a female body could offer. And how it could transform a respectable man from a pillar of society, to a hungry, lustful beast at a moment's notice.

"I shall introduce you to him" her father insisted, leading her along at his side, despite her quiet protests.

"But father-"

"Hush now. Remember your manners".

His tone of voice was enough.

She had not experienced it as a mere female. But she had seen first hand what her father did to her brother when he disobeyed. Finding a sort of punishment worthy at the end of his cane as it cracked against her brother's palm.

Her brother still wore gloves often. That was his shield.

She had yet to find her own.

Perhaps hers was in her mind, she thought. That she might be able to protect herself with her ideas and opinions, twisting the minds of men, as her elder sister had said once, to suit the needs of the women they owned.

She often had to remind herself, she was property. And could easily be bought and sold, and kicked to the roadside if she had done something to mar her family name.

She was thrust into a sort of social assassination once again once stood before the famed Mr Targaryen, who nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.

"My Targaryen. What an honour it is to have you here. Please might introduce my daughter"

He bent somewhat at the hip, his hand moving to grasp hers, the skin soft and feminine.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss"

His voice was like the purr of a cat. And though terrifyingly intriguing, she couldn't find it in herself to look away.

"And to you, Sir. Many thanks for the invitation" Aemond turned towards her father, giving another barely existent nod of his head, his expression flat and almost bored.

"It is no problem at all, Mr Targaryen. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your wife"

Late wife?

She felt rude to ask, so said nothing.

Aemond seemed to understand her curiosity, and gave a light smirk in her direction, though she was on his blind side.

"Thank you, Sir. It was a great tragedy indeed"

"Indeed" her father repeated, leaning forward as if to emphasise the size of his empathy for him, "I understand she was quite distressed for some time, was she not?"

She almost passed her father a warning glance. Thinking it rather rude for him to say such things about his late wife. Whether she may have been mad or not.

But Aemond merely nodded.

"Indeed. I am afraid, however, it was an inevitable accident"

Accident.

She of course, remembered hearing the gossip, and hearing her father read the newspaper every morning. An update about the mad Alys Rivers at the top of the page every time.

Alys Rivers, the Lady of Dragonstone, found dead in God's Eye Lake. A wound to the neck spells suicide.

A wound to the neck was a kind description.

Her pale skin was said to be slashed open on one side, everything visible within. And once the water had got to her, she was swollen, pale and blue, completely drained of blood. Almost entirely unrecognisable.

It was just as well she had no family. They would not have wished to see how she met her end.

The article found it necessary to articulate, that her body had been returned to her husband.

Across the room, another gentleman called for her father, and she felt the hot whips of panic at the back of her neck at the thought of being left alone with Aemond.

"Do excuse me" her father said quickly, disappearing into the sea of black and grey.

She herself turned back to Aemond, not wanting to be rude, and tapped her fingernails on the crystal glass nervously.

"I am very sorry to hear about your wife"

Aemond hummed, one of his hands behind his back like he had a secret.

"Thank you, Miss"

There was a long period of silence between them. And for a while, she wondered if she should be the one to break it.

Aemond laughed lowly, leaning down to her face as he caught something interesting in his sights.

"See your brother?" He murmured. And her face turned as well, not realising at first how close their faces were, but she could not very well pull away without offending him.

All the same, he smelled of sandalwood.

Her eyes followed his, to her brother on the other side of the room, where he was thoroughly embarrassing himself by laughing too widely with the woman he had been courting for several months.

"He is awfully close to that woman, is he not?"

She swallowed, raising her chin to appear more confident as she spoke, "She is to be his intended. It is only natural they speak freely with one another" she reasoned.

Aemond did not move away, his shoulder brushing against her side. It made her shudder.

"He is certainly doing something freely" Aemond hummed deep in his chest, a tone which sent a dull ache through her body.

Her brother leaned in close to the woman. And she watched her blush and throw her head back with a demure laugh, her brother leaning close to run his nose along her neck, grinning against her skin.

It felt forbidden to watch them be so close.

And yet he was so brazen about it.

"She seems to be enjoying herself, at least"

She couldn't find it in herself to reply.

For the woman did appear as if she was enjoying herself. And briefly, stood beside Aemond, his breath softly batting against her neck, she wondered herself, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her. Sneaking into her mind like a whisper, as if he were being a locked door, and was peering through the keyhole to uncover her darkest thoughts and desires.

Her brother leaned towards his intended, planting a kiss to the column of her neck. And she felt herself parting her lips as the other woman had, not only at the shameless behaviour of her brother, so consumed in wine that he felt no need to appear reasonable in front of other people, but also because she felt Aemond’s slender fingers at her forearm.

It was not at all like the way her father had pulled her to him, in ownership.

Aemond tugged her towards him in a sort of longing, his nose pressing into the plaits of her hair.

“I am going to ask your father for your hand” he whispered, “and he will say yes. And you shall be mine”.

She listened with her fingers wrapped around the wooden pillars of the staircase as her brother shouted obscenity after obscenity at her father. Every now and then her mother would insert her little, sweet voice that was inevitably crushed by the low boom of the two males in the room.

With her gaze planted firmly in her lap, tracing the patterns of the lace of her nightgown as she listened, she thought with a sort of sadness that the offer of marriage should be a joyous and happy occasion. And now in her household, the prospect of her being tied to the Green Prince himself was so offensive to her brother, that he felt the need to fight on her behalf.

Perhaps knowing his sweet sister had no choice in the matter.

“He is barely half a decade older than her and has had six wives in as many years, father!” he boomed, and she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the furniture that he was pacing and throwing his arms around.

“To give her away to that brute. It is unthinkable!”

“Be quiet!” her father roared back, “the wedding will go ahead as planned. We will not get a better offer than this!”

While she was happy, that her brother was trying to stick up for her, it was no use. He nor her had a choice in the matter.

Her father had said it himself.

We will not get a better offer.

Not she.

She was property. Something to be sold and given in exchange for goods or reputation. What she wanted, was of no consequence.

And she couldn’t help but think of her mother, several decades younger than her father, and how she must have felt at her tender age when confronted with the prospect of marrying a man much older than she.

In a way, she felt connected to her mother in that way. But also in a way that she resented her, for dressing her up, plaiting her hair and pushing her out into the rich man’s world, ripe and ready for the taking.

Passing her the torch of a woman’s anguish.

The wedding felt clinical. More akin to a funeral than a union of two people.

Her brother stares dagger into the back of her intended for the entire ceremony. All while her mother cried softly into her handkerchief and her father sat, stoic and silent, his chubby fingers caressing the sculpted ornament on the top of his cane.

She remembered his hands as they were bought together and the officiator had placed a sort of sacred cloth over them as he muttered his prayers. Binding them lawfully and before the eyes of God, for their whole lives.

His hands were large, his palms completely dwarfing hers and his long fingers wrapping around hers like tight vines. And at that moment, she had never felt so small in her life.

And noticed that his side of the wedding chapel, where his family members were supposed to sit and witness their union, was completely empty.

Six wives in as many years.

That is what her brother had said.

She knew Aemond had been married multiple times prior to her, but was her brother merely exaggerating?

In contrast to his hands, where the blood swam warmly through his limbs, his lips where the officiant asked them to seal their union with a kiss, were cold, and not forthcoming. As if he had not asked her father for her hand in marriage, but that this entire affair was so useless and merely for looks, that he’d rather be somewhere else.

That said. She could not escape the intensity of his gaze.

He seemed to focus solely on her, much to her discomfort, to the point where it seemed like he was not listening to a single prayer or hymn that was uttered in the chapel all afternoon. And though her eyes were elsewhere, to try and place the feeling that bubbled in her chest somewhere else, she often found his lilac eye drifting to the details of her necklace, to face, and pausing where she wet her lips nervously.

If he hadn’t possessed such a domineering, strong presence, she thought he would be devilishly handsome.

Perhaps a fact he already knew.

It was unlike her family to have celebrations, so they didn’t.

She gave each of the servants, some who she knew for most of her life a final embrace, thanking them for their hospitality and care where she did not receive it from her parents. And as her luggage was packed meaningfully in the back of Mr Targaryen’s carriage, with two large horses at the front, she gave her brother a tight embrace as well. Inhaling and savouring the musty smell of tobacco on his coat.

He looked saddened, but for the sake of appearances, forced a smile onto his face.

“Good luck, dear sister. Remember you may write to me, even though you are a married woman” he smiled, teasing her softly with a nudge to her shoulder.

She gave a softer hug to her mother, who usually was not keen to shower her with affection. But she supposed, she was the youngest daughter, so it was only natural.

Her father, after having busied himself in an idle chattering session with Aemond, merely tipped his hat, and did not shed one bit of emotion as she climbed into the carriage before her husband. Aemond's hand helped her up the step, watching as she disappeared inside.

The smell of his sandalwood perfumes on his coat was stronger as he sat beside her on the cushion, instructing the handsome, olive-skinned driver to move forward and away from her home.

She only waved to her brother. And watched as he had wet eyes, stepping forward a few paces like he was about to break into a run after her.

The carriage was much nicer than anything she'd seen in her young life, and though they were for all intents and purposes, considered neighbours, it was still a half hour ride to his estate.

Dragonstone.

Her skin prickled at the mere thought of it.

She'd never seen it before. Nor had any of her family.

All she knew was that it was often clouded in fog, that when you stood at the front gates you could barely see the arching towards and dark brick in the distance anyway.

All she had heard was what people said.

That it was a frightful, maze of a place. With winding corridors and crooked doorways, and barely any servants.

He was a rich man, why not employ more?

He did not say a word the entire way home. He only sat, cross legged, and fiddle with his fingers like he was nervous. Turning them over in micro-movements.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

As Dragonstone came into view once they crossed the boundary of the iron gates, she felt her breath taken away.

And it was only when Aemond assisted her with a hand as she stepped down from the carriage that she could really appreciate the sheer size of his estate.

It was so big it was beyond comprehension.

She briefly wondered if she would get lost in such a place.

"Cole will bring your things to our room"

Her heart started to flutter, and pitter patter all at the same time.

Our room.

She had almost forgotten her one wifely duty she was to fulfil this evening.

To appease him.

The thought made a sort of tightness in her belly, though she was unsure why. Of course, her elder sister had divulged her own horror story of her wedding night. Though her sister was twenty and she herself only five and ten at the time, the nitty gritty was of great curiosity to her.

"For several hours the poor thing just cried and it rather spoiled the mood. Turned out that he had…pleased himself the morning of the wedding so as not to become too excited when the evening rolled around.

Oh well, no matter. Instead, when he had a rather excited visitor the next morning he crawled atop me and breathed heavily into my neck while he tried to get it inside me. 'Twas over in an instant dear sister and I did not feel a thing".

Though the anecdote was funny, although awkward seeing as she sat next to her brother-in-law the next morning and tried not to giggle, right now, it did little to quell the gnawing inside her.

Aemond did not seem as quiet and unsure of himself as her brother-in-law was. She doubted a man of his standing would have any issue fulfilling his role as a husband.

As he had done, six times before.

Which triggered yet another question.

Why no children? Surely all six of his previous wives could not have been barren?

Did they commit suicide? Ashamed of themselves for failing to fulfil this task? Were they all mere accidents? Or did someone break in at night to steal his plethora of fine jewels and artefacts and run into one of his unfortunate wives along the way?

It seemed entirely impossible.

She watched Aemond walk confidently to the front doors, where a couple of servants stood to greet the new Lady of Dragonstone. His coat fluttered around his thighs as he turned, the ends of his silver hair hung like they were floating.

"Wife. May I introduce you to the staff. Anything you so wish, please do not hesitate to ask them"

The two servants stood, hands clasped, looking entirely scared stiff. One was a middle aged man with an apron dirtied at the edges, and the other a maid, barely five and twenty, who offered her a polite curtsy.

She simply smiled at them, "a pleasure".

They said nothing.

There was something melancholic. Ancient. And crushing about Dragonstone.

She felt the weight on her shoulders the moment she passed those gates. Did they feel it too?

Did Aemond?

This was the only moment he seemed to smile, as miniscule as it was with a darkened gaze, was when he turned to look at his new wife and nodded.

"If you will forgive me, I have some business to attend to. I will see you tonight for supper"

His expression never wavered, even as he bent at the middle to press his lips to her hand, above the ring he had placed on her finger not a few hours before.

The servants quickly scuttled out of her sight and so she thought to amuse herself by exploring her new home. Out of habit, she started upstairs, going straight to her bedroom to inspect.

There was a large four poster bed made of what appeared to be walnut in the middle of the room, with various ornaments strewn about, but very little to suggest that he actually relaxed in here.

There were no mementos, keepsakes, and she thought briefly she couldn't get a grasp on his personality this way either.

She blushed and felt that tightness again at the thought of sharing a bed with him, of what they might have to do.

The rest of the house was indicative of the first room she ventured to. Lacking a certain personality she was sure existed in her new husband but one he refused to show.

The estate was cold and empty, with flagstone floors stretching along the long dark hallways.

There were so many doors it was difficult to know what on earth could be behind all of them. She'd so far discovered the Library, the Dining Room and even happened upon the scullery rather by accident.

And then, one room…

It had a oxblood red door, worn around the edges and the colour faded somewhat. She noted the scuff marks around the handle and the hinges, as well as the stone beneath the door where overtime, footsteps had worn it down.

So she was doubly surprised to find the door locked.

Curious.

Her skin prickled, and she was sure for a moment that she saw her own misty breath. Like that feeling that someone is watching you but you are too afraid to move an inch. The tips of her fingers suddenly felt numb.

She felt it on her neck, an iciness.

But when she turned, her breath stuck in her chest from panic, she could only see nothing but the empty corridor.

And all was silent.

There was a heaviness in her chest which seemed to pass through her like trying to walk through honey, trying to pull your feet up just an inch to step forward.

And as quickly as that feeling came, it was gone and she turned back in panic once she heard soft, careful footsteps behind the oxblood door.

She clenched and unclenched her fists in fear, trying to reason with herself.

Undeniable footsteps, ones that had started at the threshold and we're now walking slowly away from her.

The blood rushed warmly back into her fingertips, and she rubbed them painfully against her navy dress, trying to will a feeling back into them.

Footsteps…

She only heard her own as she hurried down the corridor again, her shoes clocking against the flagstone.

So desperate to get away from that heavy, morbid feeling that she nearly hurtled right into the young maid.

"My Lady!"

"I do apologise" she uttered immediately, her chest pushing against her bodice with her hurried breath, "I was not looking where I was going".

The maid curtsied, as if she'd forgotten to and straightened, "Supper is to be served, my Lady. May I-"

"What is that room? Down the hall?" She asked.

The maid raised her eyebrows, "Which one, my Lady?"

She turned her head down the hallway once again to point to the one she meant, and her words died on her lips.

The door moved.

It was unmistakable.

The shadow where the door was leant ajar quickly disappeared, and the frame was filled once more by the large wooden slat against it.

There was no click of a lock to be heard.

She was so afraid she lost herself for a moment. Going all pale. So much so the maid had to prompt her.

"My Lady?"

She shook her head, looking back to see if the door would move again, and drift open as it had before.

But it never did.

And the thought that as she was running away before, the door was slowly inching open, scared her beyond belief.

"It's nothing, I apologise" she said quickly, "Supper, thank you".

There was nothing of note for the rest of the evening.

Supper was quiet. And the table was so long with husband and wife sat at either end, that they may as well have been in separate rooms while they ate.

It was nice enough food she was grateful for that. A selection of soups and meats, and breads to fill her belly between courses.

He did not speak.

He barely moved any other muscle than his arm to fork the meat into his mouth. She watched him every now and then, over the barely dancing flame of the candelabra, otherwise the room would be completely dark.

So she drank her wine, and stayed silent. Waiting to be spoken to.

The only thing he said was right at the end.

"Shall we retire for bed, wife?"

And she could not very well say no.

She made brief eye contact with the maid as she followed her husband to the grand staircase, each step feeling heavier and more nerve-wracking than the last.

Her husband was tall, broad and she had no doubt be enjoyed the domineering aura he gave off. Judging by the dark colours of his waistcoat and trousers, as well as the leather eyepatch over one eye, he enjoyed inhabiting darkness.

She thought with some amusement that the only bright things about him were his hair and eyes.

Things he could not change.

He was certainly a marvel of a man. And truthfully, she should count herself lucky that he is at least somewhat close to her in age.

Aemond closed the door softly once they were both inside. The curtains were now drawn, and the room was filled with an amber glow from the candles the maid had lit for them.

She needn't ask him for help, for her new husband immediately stood behind her, and began to unlace her dress as if they had been married an age.

His movements were so sure. And she felt with jealousy of some kind that he had done this with six other women before her.

No wonder he was practiced.

There was no room for romance when to him, it was all just a matter of duty.

She stood only in her chemise, having pulled her hair free of her braids, feeling his gaze the entire time.

"Are you intent on remaining silent, wife?" He asked, and she heard him pull off his waistcoat with every pop of his buttons.

"Or might you become more vocal in the marriage bed?"

She felt her cheeks flush and thickness in her throat. Inadvertently pressing her legs together where a sort of excitement was blooming.

"I could not say…" she answered.

And chuckled lowly, pressing his front to her back, dragging his nose up the side of her neck, just as she had seen before.

She felt something hard press against her backside, his hips pushing it against her and moving softly, creating just a tiny bit of friction.

"Tell me" he muttered, his lips tickling her ear, "tell me what a good wife does"

She was suddenly nervous, thinking about what other people had told her.

And it was increasingly difficult to think, with his large hands pulling her chemise off her body.

"A good wife…is loyal to her husband" she recited, her breath coming in short pants, "she is…loving"

He blew air from his nose, like he was amused.

"..and she is obedient"

"That's it"

Aemond peeled the chemise off her, letting it drift to the floor.

"A good wife makes herself available to her husband"

She gasped and he revelled in it, as he pushed her newly naked body onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress and watching as her husband bared himself one button at a time.

"Of course. There a many other wifely duties" he grinned.

His fingers moved to his trousers.

"But for now, I only care about this one".

Being touched all over was strange. There was a dull ache in her core when her husband touched certain areas, a feeling that she didn't recognise.

Her confused and somewhat distressed face at the whole ordeal was endearing to him.

Her young, plump face looked up at him with gleaming eyes and shame arched in her eyebrows.

It hurt. Not as greatly as she thought. But it still did.

"Close your eyes. It will be over soon"

She did as he said, turning her face away. But it was not over soon.

His member throbbed inside her, and she thought she'd never felt more full in her life. Since closing her eyes, she could not see the way his hair began to tangle around him, as his hips chased hers and came against hers with a soft smack.

The pain gave way to another feeling still.

That same ache she felt when he'd touched her.

Aemond smirked when he saw the confused, ashamed expression on her face. At the way she pressed her lips together.

"I think you are enjoying this" he murmured lowly, pushing harder into her like he was intent in piercing her stomach, "if I did not know any better, you would almost be moaning".

She didn't want it to feel good.

Or did she.

It felt wrong.

And yet she couldn't deny when he raised her thighs, his fingers wrapped into her flesh, it did feel good.

"Look at me" he whispered, never stopping, "Look at your husband, who is giving you pleasure"

Some excitement sparked inside him, when she didn't do as he asked, her warm embarrassed face pressed into the sheets as much as she could. Her eyes closed.

He laughed when she refused.

"Yes - you feel it, do you not? No need to act all coy. I can feel your body's response"

Shame crept into her body, her limbs going all tight just as he'd said. Feeling herself hit that irreplaceable point, she simply whimpered and felt his length throb once more before he spilled inside of her, releasing all he had to give.

She thought with lewdness, that his spend was warm inside her.

Aemond seemed to take great pleasure in making his wife shrink into herself with embarrassment and shame every time they coupled. He loved that doe eyed look she gave him, as if he did not have his cock buried between her legs every night he could since the wedding.

He would have her any way. Fully clothed if the moment presented itself.

There was something erotic about taking something that looked so innocent and filling her with his spend. How she would act all coy, with it dripping down her thighs.

He delighted in the fact that he had managed to kidnap this sweet young thing, and use her for himself and his pleasure any moment he was able. And the month that passed since the wedding, he could not think of a time that was sweeter.

So it was with great irritation that he was called to King's Landing. Some business with his brother that apparently couldn't wait.

He did not want to leave her.

He spoke firmly, stood before the oxblood door in his travel wear.

"While I am away, you must not enter this room. Do you understand?"

When she nodded without asking why, he smiled in pride and placed the master key in her small palm. Entrusting that she would do as she had promised in his absence.

He thought he'd reward her when he returned, by fucking her in the comfort of their bed sheets, until she was pink in the faxe and begging him to stop. Just as he liked her to be.

As soon as her husband left, she felt even more that she was being watched. All the little hairs on the back of her neck pointed upwards.

The maid kept clear of her, which was nothing unusual. But it was almost as if she was escaping rooms before she herself knew why. As if she knew what invaded the invisible space within them as soon as her back was turned.

Did she hear the voices too? See the dark figures and closing doors?

Anytime she passed the long dark hallway to the oxblood door, she felt her curiosity grow tenfold. But also a sense of dread, heavy in her gut, tugging her back to this wretched place.

What could be behind the door, that her husband wished not for her to see?

In the Library, the fire crackled comfortably as she turned the faded pages of her book. The maid busied herself collecting the dirtied saucers and teacups beside her, humming to herself gently.

The air suddenly went cold around her neck, and a breeze passed, evident by the dangling of her earrings. It was not only her imagination.

"A golden key. Oxblood door. Give the six souls rest, sweet child"

She looked up at the maid, "I am sorry, did you say something?"

The maid straightened and shook her head quickly, eyebrows arched in confusion, "No, my Lady"

Why did the maid always flee like that? Like someone was chasing her? With their claws at her back like an animal in the forest?

The key was ornate, with winding patterns and several notches at the top. And when she held it in her small palm, it felt hot to the touch like an iron rod.

Aemond would punish her.

How? She did not know.

She slotted the key into the door, without the energy to turn it. And her limbs felt heavy, and her knuckles cold, like someone was pushing on it. Forcing her will.

"That's right. Insert the key into the keyhole, and turn…"

A voice echoed off the stone.

A low, sweet, mature voice.

Click.

The oxblood door gave way to light, torches lit at every corner, illuminating the oxblood colour of the floor before her.

A step down.

The floor rippled like liquid.

"Our souls…"

Her shoe was slick with something oily that clung to the suede. Irreparably staining them.

Her skin prickled. Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat.

Six torch-lit figures reflected in the blood on the flagstone floor.

Hung, wrists bound over their head. White skulls in various stages of deterioration, with strings of what was once luscious hair drifting past their bony shoulders.

She saw with dread, they were still wearing dresses that hung off their ivory skeletons.

She was sure she collapsed with grief, a scream echoing around her that did not feel like her own. The only sound she registered was the clanging of the key as she dropped it in shock, blood of Aemond's ex-wives enveloping the brass.

Her throat felt sore.

She watched their empty eye sockets. The dust over their bound hands and their feet as they dangled inches off the floor.

Breath hot in her lungs like she was clinging to life as she knew it, she scrambled for the key and pulled the door shut behind her with a mighty boom.

Darkness crawled up her skin, now that she knew what was behind it.

Was this her fate?

If she displeased him, would she be their successor?

She was sat, with head in hand, in a state of complete distress with sweat on her brow and neck as Aemond returned.

She had paced the room for hours she felt, wringing her hands, as if to find what she might say to him on his arrival. He'd see it on her face.

He would know she had seen the corpses of his precious wives on her soft, innocent features. Scarred forever by death.

His tall, broad form filled the doorframe. And he dropped his coat onto the bed with a tired huff, but said nothing.

She almost wished he would say something. To spare her this horrible anticipation.

But she watched as he took two careful steps in. His one eye flitting over to the key he'd left her on the bureau.

The blood had not lifted from the brass. She could not wash it. No matter how much time she committed to it, it would not become clean.

Her husband looked back at her like she was something to eat, his eye half open with only half his iris visible.

She sobbed and cried when he advanced and held her to the wall by her neck with ease, slamming her small body against it.

"You thought you would get away without punishment, hm?"

She sobbed like a child, her tears wetting her cheeks and neck, to his fingers. Her own tried to pry his away, feeling that he was hurting her effortlessly with his grip around her throat.

"Please…husband…"

He could have laughed.

"Now is no time for begging. Tell me, how should I punish you, wife?, he grinned widely, his tone low and condescending as he spoke to the small woman before him.

"Please…you may do as you like with me - just first, let me pray-" she begged with a hoarse, tired voice. Never feeling that she could be scared of him in this way.

He pulled his head away, looking down at her past his nose, his lips tight.

She felt his grip loosen, but the places where his fingers had been were sore and red.

"I shall do as I please. But since you asked so nicely to pray. I shall let you"

She felt herself breathing like she was swallowing fire a she stepped out the door, allowing her privacy to pray before he inevitably drove a dagger through her, or something of the like.

She rushed to the master key and locked the door with a quick slam and click, locking her husband out and flinching when his palms pushed with urgency on the other side. Rapping on the wood like an animal who couldn't see their prey.

She had no intention of praying.

"Open this door! Now!"

Her eyes scanned the room anxiously and with urgency. She felt her fingers shaking as he pushed the window open, looking down at the great height she would have to jump to escape him.

A sure death.

She clambered over the bureau, her knees knocking painfully on the wood as she advanced in a panicked state towards the ledge.

Her brother.

If she could just escape to him.

He would save her.

A clang of metal rattled against the floor as her husband, as strong as she was, sent the door flinging off the hinges. His large arms wrapped around her waist as she writhed, fearing her life. Expecting a blade to her neck. Or perhaps to be dragged to the oxblood door, to never return.

"Husband - please - have mercy-"

"It is too late for 'please'. It is time for you to feel the consequence of your actions"

She struggled so much, he tackled her to the floor, holding both her forearms behind her back in one hand, pushing her front to the cold stone floor, her warm cheek moulding to the pattern of it.

"I beg you - have mercy and kill me quickly-"

Her tears wet her face entirely, feeling his body over her back, pressing his hips into her backside, letting her feel his wrath.

"Mercy?" He chuckled darkly, "why would I show the likes of you mercy?"

"You who I have treated with care and respect. You who has disobeyed me"

"My Lady shall learn this lesson now"

His voice was dark and low, and it scared her more than the whisperings of the paranormal and the sight of what was behind the oxblood door.

She panicked with a warm face as he rucked up her skirts to her waist, flinching when she felt two of his thick fingers swipe across her hot centre while he continued to hold her down.

"I do not often take pleasure in teaching my wife a lesson. But, for you, I shall make an exception"

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to anger him with her whimpers and whines as she felt him slide his trousers down and rub his hot, throbbing member, ready and waiting for her, against her cunt, collecting her wetness on his length for ease of entry.

He sighed longingly, his breath tickling her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.

She choked on her breath as he slid into her, his fingers holding her hips desperately to widen her legs to accommodate him deeper inside her.

"None of them were worthy - fucking none of them -" he breathed, his breath hitching with each soft smack of his hips against her, stretching her walls to the shape and size of him and groaning at the way her hot insides parted.

"Do you wish me to give you a child, hm? None of them - fuck - none of them could give me what you do-"

She whimpered, feeling his length fill her repeatedly and bully the end of her, each blow against that rough spot inside increasingly making her shame and despair at his use of her body ebb away into a forbidden and unknown feeling.

"If you do not behave, you will not be allowed that pleasure" he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, his thrusts as well becoming sloppy and unconfident.

Her gut warmed with his length piercing her insides. And she felt as though she was missing something he was telling her in his own way. Eyebrows arched in confusion.

Even now, while he fucked her on the floor, she felt afraid for her life.

"Oh, little one, I am almost disappointed that it took so long for you to realise that I do not intend to kill you.”

Her wet eyes cracked open to turn her head in discomfort to him. Her cheek rubbing against the stone floor as he pulled her hips up to fuck her deeper.

"No. You shall give me children. Many of them if you wish to please me"

She tightened around him completely out of instinct, and Aemond groaned loudly above her, pushing his chest so hard against her back she felt she might break.

And her hands clenched into fists, absentmindedly pushing her hips back to him to chase the remnants of that sweet rapture she was sometimes awarded when coupling with him.

A sweet escape from this prison.

He laughed, when he realised that she was quite resigned to her fate.

That she, compared to his other wives, was finally worthy of giving him children. Of satiating his desire to dominate a woman so easily. How he enjoyed watching the look of shame and pleasure on her face, as she battled with herself to submit to him or not.

He slammed with a wet squelch back into her again, filling her with his warmth with a long, shuddered groan. His grip so hard around her forearm, she was sure blood did not reach her hands.

He continued to move shallowly into her, pushing his spend as deep inside her as it would go. As if, whether she wanted to or not, he would fuck his child into her and watch her grow fat and round.

And then, once she had one, would fuck yet another into her.

Her breath came fast and hot from her swollen lips as she trembled around him, unknowingly prolonging his pleasure inside her.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"No other words before I begin?"

It was difficult with her head pushed against the floor, but she nodded softly in confirmation. Relief flooding her as she saw her husband's smirk rise to his lips, both his hands dropping to her hips to tug her back onto his length.

"Then let us begin"

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cultofdixon · 4 months

Text

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other��s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

322 notes · View notes

eetherealgoddess · 2 months

Text

So I feel like I wrote my last two stories a little mid so hopefully this is more detailed and well written. Also brought back the language barrier cuz I love it too and haven’t written a story with it in a while. :)

ꨄRabid Loveꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦Your deceased grandmother’s will passed down wealth, a mansion in Japan, and five exotic hyrbids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

❣︎A little love between some of the characters as well❣︎

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Rabid Love

The manor sits on top of a hill, distant from the busy streets of the city near. Trees cover the surface, surrounding as if a natural gate. Very few houses of the same build sit near amongst the land that stretches along. It had been a few weeks since your wealthy grandmother passed down the hybrids that you’re going to live with in her enormous house. You weren’t too excited about the news at first, having heard nothing but the word “responsibility” pop into your brain, however you couldn’t help but accept the gift once the will was stated as you sat in the chair of the office.

Once all was set, you moved yourself as well as your belongings into the mansion she once lived in, sort of creeped out by the fact that her ghost may or may not be lingering. Regardless, the situation had been unsettling considering she died inside the home. You mentally shook your anxiety away as you gathered your things from the car, thinking about how you and the hybrids would get along. The note she left had warned you of all concerns as well as facts about them.

So far you only knew that they are all males, adults, and two out of five of them are biologically related. They are broad with strong personalities. They can take care of themselves for the most part and were sort of like her sons. All of the males have the alpha gene which is the only thing you have to worry about, as a female yourself considering their weird dominance obsession. It is common for male hybrids to compete for superiority, especially when it comes to humans. It’s a surprise that these particular beings even got along as well as they do.

They were already situated in the house so you were the outsider coming in, having had an estranged relationship with your deceased grandmother for the majority of your lives. It wasn’t until a few years before she died you reached out, finding out that she had moved to Japan and started a new life away from the family when you were a child. It was sweet, the time you spent together before she went into hospice and gave into the light. You were at peace that she was no longer in physical pain so you were able to mourn in a brighter way, the thought helping you feel better.

Once you made it to the door, you took a deep breath and walked into the manor to begin your new life, set for the rest of your days by the blessing from your grandmother’s will. When you finally walked in, you were met with the smell of vanilla with a pinch of cinnamon, the beautiful decor shining amongst the white walls, reflecting off the marble floor perfectly. You weren’t used to such luxury, your gaze stuck on the maroon furniture placed in the foyer. A long staircase wrapped around a pillar to the left of the entrance facing inside.

You walked further, passing the foyer and walking through the arch. A butler stood, greeting you as he grabbed your luggage, leading you to your new bedroom up the stairs. You eye the doors you pass as you both stroll down the hall. He bows once you make it to the room before leaving you to your lonesome. You eye the large bed that you couldn’t wait to lay in for the first time. It looked far better than anything you’ve ever slept on, including the pillows.

You set your luggage down and gaze at the rest of the room, glancing at your balcony as well as the television and electric fireplace under it. A maroon rug on the cream carpet placed in front of the bed as well as an ottoman, and a walk-in closet near the bathroom’s door that’s connected through the bedroom. You decide to unpack your stuff later, eager to get meeting the hybrids over with as soon as possible. When you walk out of your room, you check the halls both ways as you listen for a presence near, to no avail. You move to the staircase before ascending down all the while gently holding the railing.

You walk through the foyer, surprised to not see any butlers or hybrids as you make your way to the living space. You perk up when you hear rustling in the kitchen, rushing to the area. You see a cabinet open, covering a face as they’re bent over, blonde tail sticking up as they search for something.

“Hey.” You say, attempting to make your presence known though you watch as the person ignores you and continues their hunt. You stood awkwardly as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

Damn. Should I walk away?

Finally the male grabs whatever he was looking for and stands up straight, closing the cabinet’s door before looking at you as he tears the bag of a snack. His blonde hair sways as his attention shifts to you, dark eyes boring into yours as he takes a bite. His ears stick out above his head, perking up as he chews.

“Who are you?” He says, accent thick even with his mouth full, swallowing before taking another bite. One of his hands is placed in his pocket as his tail sways to the other side. His face holds an unreadable expression.

“Y/n. I’m G/n’s granddaughter.” He hums before nodding, staring at you for a little longer before walking towards the doorway, turning slightly to the side to eye you.

“Mikey.” He says before disappearing into the hall. You stood frozen in your position.

I guess that wasn’t so bad. That must’ve been the lion. He was shorter than I thought he’d be. Four more and the hardest part will be over.

You walk out of the kitchen and head out of the den down the second hall. You hear music from a familiar videogame you once played, following the sound as you prepare yourself to meet whichever hybrids are playing the game. When you reached the closed door, your hand wrapped around the doorknob. You twist the object and push the door open, entering the large room that seems to be the game room, considering the futuristic look and electronic devices that surround the area. A large flat - screen displays the game as you face the back of the gaming chairs that hold two people.

You notice one of their tails hanging to the side of the chair, indicating one of the leopards your grandmother noted. “They come off mischevious though they do have a sweet side once you surpass that phase, but don’t forget that it isn’t a facade. They find amusement in others’ suffering.”

You’re glad she was honest though it didn’t calm your nerves in the slightest. Hybrids are known to be dangerous by nature considering their societal views of the world surrounding them. It comes from a survival instinct that somehow turned into play. They are intimidating creatures, especially when they are exotic which is why they are so expensive. You move into the room further before clearing your throat quietly.

“Hello.” You state, awaiting a response as the screen continues on. The only one who acknowledges you is the person who turns their head on the left, revealing tiger ears as their golden eyes meet yours. His lips upturn into a wide grin, turning in his seat to where he sits sideways, the tiger tattoo on his neck prominent under his long black and blonde hair, as well as the tail that sticks out on the other side of the chair.

“Hey there.” He greets. “Do you know Japanese?”

You shook your head as your hand reached the back of your neck in embarrassment, smiling sheepishly. “Nah. Sorry about that.”

“You knew you were moving here yet didn’t bother to learn basic Japanese? How smart of you.” Another voice says from the seat next to the tiger who chuckles in response.

You didn’t know what the first part of his speech was, but considering the last part of it you could tell it probably wasn’t the nicest statement. Irritation creeps in but you didn't want to assume the worst so you ignored the remark.

“Kazutora.” He states before nodding over to the man who sits next to him. “That’s Rin.”

“Cool. Y/n.” You respond.

“Well, nice to meet ya, Y/n. I guess I’ll see ya around.” He says before giving you one last smile and turning back in his seat to face the screen. You nod to yourself before leaving the room with a “You too.”

You sigh as you make your way out of the hall and towards the staircase. You walk up the stairs heading to your room before deciding to find the last two cats. Then you can breathe and focus on unpacking. As you walk past the upstairs balcony, you stroll down the hall that holds the doors to the bedrooms. You notice a cracked door as well, whispers and the sound of a man talking low. The closer you get the more your eyebrows furrow as you hear wet smacking sounds. When you look through the crack, your hand covers your mouth as you eye the display.

Long pink hair drapes over the shoulders of the man bent over with his face against the bed, a red hue covering his face as drops of sweat cause his skin to glisten. His eyebrows are furrowed as his nose scrunches, fingers gripping the comforter as his body rocks against the man behind him while his ears are flat. The jaguar’s tail is held behind him by the long haired leopard’s hand, naked body glistening with sweat along with highlighting the large tattoo embedded on his torso, all the while he pounds into the man below him. His other hand grips his hips, claws piercing the skin as their skin smacks together. Both men pant while releasing occasional moans and praises.

Once your eyes make contact with purple you swiftly move away and rush towards your room, slamming the door behind you as you press your back against it. You had not expected any of that but you didn’t plan to act weird about it. It just caught you by surprise as well as making you embarrassed for being caught watching.

You sigh before turning your own tv on and beginning your unpacking process. Once you finished you heard a knock at your door. You yell, “Come in!”

The door opens to reveal the butler from earlier.

“Dinner is ready, madam.”

“Oh, thanks. Also, you don’t have to call me madam.”

“Yes, L/n” You shrug as he leads you to the empty dining room. You sit in one of the chairs and watch as the chef comes out with a covered plate, setting it in front of you before lifting it to reveal your delicious smelling dinner. You didn't hesitate to dig in, causing some to drip out of your mouth. You’ve honestly never tasted something so delectable in your life. You down the plate of food so fast, you take a second to breathe before you ask for more, tempted to get up on your own and grab it from the chef’s station.

“You’re gonna choke if you slurp it down like that again.” A voice says from the entrance of the room, causing you to turn your head in their direction. You immediately felt warmth in your face when you see the leopard from earlier, his long black and blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, swaying as he walks in before sitting at the table.

His ears stick up as his tail moves to rest against his lap, fingers connected as his face leans on the back of his hands. His leg crosses as a sly smile falls along his expression. A strand of hair falls in front of his face as his droopy eyes gaze at you from across.

“I’ll be fine.” You respond just as another plate of food is placed in front of you. “Y/n.” You shake off your anxiety considering it’s really not a big deal. They could’ve at least closed the door.

“Haitani Ran.” He offers a hand, dark claws out causing you to hesitate before accepting with your own.

He takes the opportunity to lift the back of your hand to connect his lips, releasing you as he licks the taste of your skin off his lips. You ignored the residue tingle left on your hand and began to eat your second plate. You glance at the other men who entered the room, noticing all of them except the lion.

They all sit in their seats, Rin beside Ran and the pink haired male next to them. Kazutora takes a seat next to you.

“Wonder what’s on the menu.” Rin states sarcastically.

“Our favorite as always.” Ran responds with a knowing look.

“How do you think she’ll react?” Kazutora asks with amusement.

“She wouldn’t know the difference, you know how dense humans are.” The scarred male says.

You wish you would have at least looked into a translation tool of some sort because you try telling yourself that they’re just having a normal conversation but you feel like you’re being shit - talked. You know that it’s a ‘you’ problem but the tone and energy that comes with their speech has been off.

“Hey, I’m Y/n.” You say to the male you have yet to meet. He gives you a bored look before stating, “Sanzu.” Mikey finally entered the dining room with his arm rubbing against his tired eyes. He heads to the seat on the other side of you and sits after pulling the chair back. He leans over the table with his head lying on his palm.

“Had a nice nap?” Kazutora questions.

“Not long enough.” He says with a soft voice.

“You came earlier than usual.” Rin says before turning to his brother. “You owe me.” To which Ran rolled his eyes.

The same chef as earlier, along with a few others came out with covered plates and set them in front of the hybrids. They also poured their preferred beverage into the wine glasses. Your eyebrows furrowed as to how you forgot to ask for your own drink or why they didn’t have a cup already out like everyone else.

Well, I am new so it’s probably nothing personal.

When they lifted the cover, you eye the chunks of raw meat along with the side dishes surrounding the plate. The smell was enticing though you’ve never been one to enjoy raw food in fear of the repercussions.

I guess they are technically big cats so it’s healthy for them.

You’ve never seen meat that looks quite like what’s on their plates. You watch as Sanzu rubs his meat into the red substance that puddles around it before lifting the chopsticks to his mouth.

“What is that?” You hope to not come off rude or ignorant though you were just so curious you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Some of them gave each other looks all the while snickering or rolling their eyes.

“Fresh human.” Mikey says casually before taking another bite. Your eyes widen, hand holding your own chopsticks pausing as you stare down at your plate.

“Don’t worry, your dinner is animal meat.” The golden eyed tiger reassures you. Unfortunately, you’ve seemed to have lost your appetite.

“So, how do you obtain human meat?” You ask.

“By cooking a human.” Rin snorts. You glare at his smart ass answer and look over to the others.

“Your grandmother has freezers full of cut human slabs by those who signed off on donating their body parts to the Hybrid - Food Society Association.” Ran explains before taking another bite of food.

“They’re cleaned thoroughly before they’re slaughtered considering most donations are only after they’re dead.” He continued, “lucky for us only the healthiest of humans are chosen to be a meal specially made for the exotic hybrids such as us.”

How have you never heard of this before? Then again they only make normal pet food for non - exotic hybrids. You’ve never even been around a regular hybrid let alone the type you have to live with now. You nod your head as you prevent the bile from coming up your throat. You know that humans are technically just chunks of meat with legs, still on the food chain for other species and even on their own at times. You still couldn’t help but feel disturbed. They could decide to eat you at any moment and you’d be done for.

You turn to the chef and give your thanks before standing up and nodding a dismissal to the rest of the men, heading to your room so you could take a moment to relieve yourself of the anxiety forming. When you reached your bedroom, you decided to take a shower, gathering a pair of pajamas before entering your bathroom and turning the faucet on. After your shower you completed your nightly routine and hopped into bed.

After a few hours of scrolling and not being able to sleep, you climbed out of bed and walked through the hall to the staircase. Once you reach the den, one of your eyebrows raise at the tiger who sat on the couch leaned over. As you walked around you noticed the tray on his lap as well as the opened wrap in his hands that he brought to his lips to lick the lining before rolling the leaf, closing around the green flower. His ears perked up as he turned slightly to look at you.

“Want some?” He says with a smile and tilted head, holding the joint up.

Sitting on the balcony connected to his room, you both pass the stick as you converse about whatever comes to mind, slight laughter along with semi - deep conversation that’s lingering between the surface and depth. A moment of silence included with the level of ganja consumed enhanced your need for sleep, you lying on the ground as your legs hang off the edge of the balcony. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel weightless under the moonlight. Your steady breathing caught Kazutora’s attention.

He turns back to look at you before finishing off the roach and ashing it out. He tossed it below, the burnt leaf disappearing into the forested area. He leaned back, connecting with the floor as he turned his head to the side to observe your sleeping face. His own expression is stoic besides the light pink hue that lingers on his face. After lying there for a moment, he sits up to lean over you and sniff near your neck, your distinct scent fuming his nostrils. One of his hands move to your shoulder as he grips the skin, sniffing a little harsher than before to receive every fume that comes from you.

A few weeks pass and you find yourself with a casual routine. Fortunately, you’ve bonded well with Kazutora though that’s not much of a surprise since he was the most welcoming. His extrovertedness did well with helping you out of your comfort zone. Today you went out to run errands. Eyeing the building to your left and noticing that it is a bakery, you decide to run in and buy a case of Mikey’s favorite treat. You knew he was running out so a quick pit stop couldn’t hurt.

When you arrived home you dropped the case on the kitchen counter before quickly taking your own stuff to your room, planning to place it in the right area once you finished setting your bags on the floor. When you made it downstairs, you stopped to see Mikey opening the case you had set on the counter. When he grabs the snack, he opens the package and sets the treat between his lips, fangs glistening before he takes a bite.

“Thanks.” He says before walking out. You shrug before sneaking one of your own and setting the rest in the pantry. You knew that he’d eat all of those within the next two to three days so you thought to snatch one to try before he eats them all.

A few days pass and he asks if you can style his hair so he wouldn’t have to. You didn’t think pulling half your hair up in a ponytail could be that much work but to each their own. You didn’t mind styling his hair, the soft strands entangling your fingers as you pulled it up to wrap the band around the section once you were finished brushing the mane. You thought his ears would make it harder for you but there was no trouble at all. He stared at the tv all the while you completed the ponytail.

From that day on he would automatically show up in your room and position himself on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. You never complained nor rejected him. It was quite the bonding experience even when you two didn’t talk at all. More weeks passed and he gradually showed more comfortability around you, making excuse after excuse just to touch you such as making you carry him, lying his head on your lap, or spooning you whenever he’d ask to sleep in your bed. You found the behavior adorable and the company appreciated.

A couple months passed and you were walking up the stairs to your bedroom after a smoke session with Kazutora. When you opened your door, the putrid smell smacked your face before you eye the red liquid from the freshly slaughtered human arm lying on your comforter. You covered your mouth before bile shot up your throat and caused you to vomit on the floor. Dry heaving and gagging, tears fall down your face at the burning liquid from your throat as well as the stench filling your nostrils.

“What a sight.” A voice says behind you though you’re too distracted to notice, running to your bathroom before slamming the door shut. Laughter filled the room.

After you got yourself together you were met with an ‘apology’ from Rin and Sanzu, though it only consisted of, “It was just a prank.” Ran offered for you to sleep in his room until the mattress and sheets were replaced, to which Mikey and Kazutora tried to argue against in order for you to stay with them instead.

A few months pass and you wake up in the middle of the night. You felt the urge to walk down the hall considering the loud noise that startled you awake. Once you did, you found one of the bedroom doors open. Walking in, you gasped when you see Sanzu on the ground completely out of it with his eyes barely open and head leaning against the wall. You immediately take action and stick your fingers into his throat forcing him to vomit whatever he consumed. Once he came back to consciousness you wrapped your arms around him and cried on his shoulder for his safety, his own eyes staring ahead into the space across from where you sat.

Unknown to you, after a week passed he made himself a routine of observing you while you slept. Sometimes he would even climb in the bed, accidentally waking you up though you weren’t concerned, embracing the jaguar in your arms as you fell back into slumber.

One day, you just couldn’t take your eyes off of Ran’s long hair. You asked if you could play with it, as it reminded you of the mannequin heads you received as a little girl. He didn’t mind. As a matter of fact he fell asleep numerous times on your lap, nuzzling comfortably against your thighs as your fingers traced his scalp. Sometimes, he’d even ask you to downright scratch his head, his body reacting slightly as the tingles go straight down his spine. It was cute.

A month passed and you were walking through the rest of the mansion you had yet to see. You almost passed a room until the leopard patterned ears caught your attention. You watched as Rin worked out in the gym, lifting large weights. You eye the matching tattoo that sits on the opposite side of his brother’s torso. Never really exercising consistently, you walk into the room and grab the smallest weights as a joke before standing next to him and lifting your own, giving him a humorous smile. He side glances at you before you turn away, continuing to lift as you miss the red hue forming on his face.

A year passed and you decidedl that it’s time for you to meet other humans who reside in Japan. Having been slacking on your social skills, you couldn’t help the nerves that struck when you went out to meet a group of people you’ve never met before you were hit up on social media. You made sure to dress appropriately considering you all would be bar hopping and running around the booming streets of a popular city. The night was spent with pure joy and good energy as you all roamed the area. The hours reach the am and you finally return home, a little tipsy as you stumble into the foyer.

“Where were you?” You almost jolt out of your skin when you try passing the den, turning to see Kazutora sitting on the sofa with a leg crossed.

“Oh, you scared me.” You giggle in relief. His expressionless gaze caused you to quiet down before you responded to his question. “I went out with some people I met.”

“Who?” He asks in a serious tone. You raise one of your eyebrows.

“What is this an interrogation?” He holds his hands up in surrender with a sheepish smile.

“It was just a question.” You sigh before shaking your head.

“I-I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive.” You drop your purse on the floor before sitting next to him.

“It’s alright. Wanna smoke?” He questions before he feels your head leaning against his shoulder. Your quiet breathing indicated your slumber. He sits up and turns his body towards you, shifting you to lean back on the couch before diving into your neck, sniffing the scents from the various humans that had been in your presence. His expression turns into irritation, a drop in his stomach as he feels the need to scrub your body clean of the stench that surrounds you. Instead, he helped you to bed.

A few weeks pass and you go on a date. The meeting was nice and the guy really made your day with his gentlemen - like behavior. You stepped out of the car after he dropped you off. He walked you to your door before you gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him, “Bye.” When you entered the door, you were immediately grabbed by the arm while you were sniffed by Rin.

“Gross.” He hissed before dropping your arm and walking away. Leaving you confused as you stood in your spot. On another occasion you were in the middle of braiding Ran’s hair while he faced you with his legs over yours, both of you sitting on your bed.

“Wouldn’t you rather watch tv than me?” You chuckled. He shook his head with a smile.

“Nope.” He says before pushing you on your back and climbing on top of you, nuzzling his head between your shoulder and positioning himself comfortably enough to nap. You roll your eyes and shift your attention to the flat screen while caressing his back until you fall asleep on your own.

When you went to the bathroom after you both woke up and he left your room, your eyebrows furrowed at the marks left on your neck. Tracing them as you stared deeply into the mirror. You confronted him though he promised to not do it again, he didn’t listen. You begin to hide it with makeup when going out only for the foundation to show up missing each time, causing you to stop buying new products considering they’d disappear anyway.

“Master, my dorayaki is gone!” Mikey whines as he sits on top of your lap, legs circled around your waist as you sit on the sofa in the den. You pull him back by the arms while giving him a look.

“Mikey, I’ve already told you to stop calling me that.”

He continues to whine about his missing dorayaki, ignoring your statement as he calls you the preferred name over and over.

“I can’t get you more if you don’t get up.” To which he replied, “Then take me with you.”

“You’d still have to get down.” He paused above you, sniffing your neck before you felt a long wet muscle leave a trail of moisture.

“Mikey!” You gasp.

“All I can smell is Ran’s stupid scent on you.” He hissed before he continued to lick and mark up your neck with his own scent. You ignore the chills running up your back as you attempt to push him off though his grip is keeping you locked. His tail wraps around one of your arms while his hand grabs your other wrist, preventing you from pushing against him. You huff frustratingly.

You’ve been noticing the absence of a few of your clothing. The only thing you know is that someone has been stealing from your dirty clothes basket. It probably doesn’t worry you as much as it should but you couldn’t really do anything about it without the risk of accusing the wrong person and causing a problem. It wasn’t until one night you walked into Sanzu’s, seeing him naked and asleep as he held one of your favorite shirts. Your eyes widen at the pair of your panties tangled around his limp cock.

You immediately leave the room, shutting the door behind you and walking back to your bedroom. You brush the memory off as something to do with their instincts and comfortability or something, you don’t really know how to react to that. You didn’t bring it up nor did you say anything about it to anyone else. You’ve caught a few of them either having intercourse or masturbating but never once with your clothes. Not until then or until you ended up finding Kazutora sniffing your panties with drowsy eyes all the while Mikey pounding his ass above him, his head leaning on the tiger’s back while he gripped his waist. Now that was a sight you hadn’t expected to see at all.

You just thought that they all had a harmless crush on you and didn’t know what to do with it besides their sexual escapades so you didn’t say a word. You didn’t find a problem with their behavior until you had a visitor. You had no idea why they acted so rudely to your new friend, her being a girl who you were not attracted to in the slightest way sexually or romantically. It was clear the platonic friendship you had going on but for them to just outright go out of their way to aggressively make her uncomfortable is insane to you. You refrained from inviting anyone else over. It seemed to have just gone downhill from there.

One night you woke up and felt cold air hitting your whole body which made no sense considering you fell asleep warm in your pajamas. What you hadn’t expected was the moisture hitting one of your nipples nor the muscle sliding against your clit. Two pairs of purple eyes glower at you all the while continuing their assault. Claws slightly penetrate your thighs as well as the breast that’s being held against a mouth. Your hips buck before you sit up and push the older brother back, as well as the head of the younger.

“Rin! Ran! What in the fuck?!” You exclaim.

You had them all sit down in the den, the males holding expressions of boredom or little care for what you were going on about. You set boundaries about everything that had made you uncomfortable. The only reason you were explaining anything was because they are all hybrids and have different sets of rules and social constructs than regular humans. Although disturbed you decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, hoping things would get better.

You made an unfortunate decision, attempting to invite another friend over, this time a male. Considering there had been some time that passed and the hybrids had listened to your concerns, you thought that you could finally have some company. It was very late by the time you both realized the time, you being nice and offering him to stay in one of the guest bedrooms and sleep over. When you hadn’t heard from him or seen him walk out of the room, you decided to check in. Only for you to let out a scream of terror at what was left of the mauled body lying on the bed. You couldn’t stop trembling as you hyperventilated, Kazutora rubbing your sides as he held you against his chest while the maids cleaned the mess.

A few days pass as you stay locked in your room. You get up from the bed and head to your grandmother’s old bedroom on the other side of the mansion. You searched for anything that could notify you of the violence that occured. Some piece of information on how to stay safe or figure out how to lessen their weird behavior. The only thing you found was your grandmother’s journal. You sat in your bedroom and read the entire passage. Your hands tremble as realization smacks you in the face. When you couldn’t find anyone upstairs, you rushed down to the game room after passing the empty den.

All of them were either sitting on gaming chairs or the couches, focusing on what was displaying on the screen. You walked to the tv, unplugging it and throwing the journal on the ground. You contemplated just making your exit quietly but you were so angry you acted out of emotion.

“What the fuck did you do to my grandma?! Who are you and what was your plan?”

They all stare at you with absent expressions. The only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

“What are you talking about?” Kazutora questions. You shake your head.

“No don’t fucking try to manipulate me you know exactly what I’m talking about!” You say before grabbing one of the unused controllers near the tv and chucking it at him, only for him to dodge it.

“And what do you think you’re gonna do about it, huh? She’s dead and you’re lucky we spared you.” Rin says with irritation. Your eyes widen.

“Lucky you spared me?! Your plan was to kill me after poisoning her to death so you can steal everything from us!” You exclaim. “You lied to her and she was too old to notice that she even wrote it herself! You knew she didn’t have her right mind so you manipulated her into thinking you loved her!” The sound of another controller breaking catches your attention.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. We loved her like our mother.” Sanzu growls.

“Then why did you gradually kill her to steal from her! You don’t do that to people you love!”

“It wasn’t part of the plan to bond with her. She was just some old rich lady before we got to know her.” Ran says with a stoic expression. You scoff.

“Oh please! You’re fucking terrible!” You exclaim before walking to the exit. Before you could leave the room you were snatched by your arm.

“Where are you going?” Mikey questions while gripping your arm with his claws slightly piercing your skin, dark eyes glaring into your own orbs.

“Away from you freaks.” You hissed attempting to pull your arm away from him only to get thrown on the ground. You land with a thud along with a grunt when the back of your head meets the carpet.

Before you can get back up, you’re forced on your back, Mikey climbing on top of you and pinning you to the ground.

“LET ME GO!” You roar, fear mixing with the anger as the grip on your wrists tighten. His tail wraps around your neck in a tight hold, blocking your airway while he stares down at you with a cold look. You stare wide eyed as you struggle in his hold.

“Calm down, Y/n.” Kazutora says as they all gather around, him crouching down to eye you from above.

“Knock her out already.” Rin states before Sanzu pressed harshly against your pressure point, causing you to go limp immediately.

“It’s okay.” A voice cooes in your ear from behind. Heat covers your body as you groan while slowly coming to reality. The only light is the moonlight reflecting into the room, causing a hollow glow. You feel your own body rocking as the feeling of being stretched from below causes you to gasp. Hands grip your shoulders as your stomach is pressed against the bed. You hear panting behind you as kisses are placed on your neck and shoulder.

“I… hah, love you so much. Fuck!” Kazutora breathes out as he rocks his lower body against yours, sliding his thick erection out of your body before shoving it back inside deeply, purposefully aiming himself to hit the spot he knows will drive you crazy. You look up wide eyed at purple eyes that stare down at you from above, cock in hand right in front of your eyesight as he kneels on the bed.

“M’ so close. G-gonna fill this pussy up with my fucking cum.” His hair drapes over your back as his thrusts harden. He pulls his hips back before pressing them against your ass, accelerating his steady pace as he aims his head perfectly against your g - spot. You whimper as you bite your lip, tears streaming down your face as you turn your head the other way to not face the older Haitani. Only to be met with icy blue orbs glowering down at you with a twisted look of lust on his expression, such an intense gaze that forces you to shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the time to pass and this to be over.

Kazutora’s thrusts become harder as you feel a rise of your own stomach, the stimulation getting the best of your body before you release, the male over you holding his hips against your ass before he shoots ropes of cum inside of you. Breathing heavily, you feel his weight lift off of you before forcing you to turn over on your back. You cry out when Mikey crawls in between your legs, holding your legs up as he positions himself to push inside.

“I hate you! I-I hate all of you!” You hysterically cry, using your fists to bang against Mikey’s chest before Rin appears in your vision, grabbing your chin as he leans over, red hue covering his cheeks.

“Shut up.” He says before forcing you into a passionate kiss.

Once they were all done taking their turns with you, you were carried to the bathroom to get cleaned up by Ran. Your limp body is exhausted from being used by the stronger species, worn out and broken from the inside out. You knew that the next day would be spent planning your escape.

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Last night I had a dream that fae!Price’s darling was a witchy gal, her grandmother taught her about the fae when she was young. I’m talking warded up house, always carrying iron and salt, candles herbs and crystals the whole nine yards. They met in the flower shop after she got a weird vibe, looked through a hagstone and Saw him. He showed up in her garden and she gave him mead she made to make up for her rudeness. She will do small acts of kindness but specify that they are “freely given” to avoid tethering. I was reading your blog right before bed lol. I like the idea of debt holder Price and a (from a fae perspective) slippery darling that he just can’t catch unless she wants to be caught

*Holding the grimoire I wrote as a senior capstone in College* Oh you want witch shit? I can give you witch shit. Let's keep trying out Price's darlings, the only thing I require for her is that she have the most knowledge of the fae because she's dealing with the big kid one. (Here's where I mention that I also have a potential witch darling for Gaz so keep that in mind)

He's been hanging around your garden, just by your back gate, right where your grandmother planted rosemary so many years ago. You greet him every time you pass by, careful never to reach over the brick wall that separates you. He's friendly, but you're not so easily fooled.

"Good morning," you smile at him, watering the herbs on your side of the fence. He leans against the brick to watch you. Eyes heavy as they slide over you, tracing the sway of your skirt where it skims your thighs.

"How's my pretty witch doing today?" He asks voice thick and promising. He's just as careful to avoid your iron watering can as you are to keep it from splashing him. You find the residual warding properties tend to soak into the water. Your family has always maintained a strong threshold for the home.

"Better seeing you," you joke, returning the compliment as easily as can be. You never miss the heat in his eyes, the danger just below his friendly facade.

"I brought you something."

"That's very kind of you," you tell him, "I think the tomatoes are ripe, I'll send you off with some for the trouble."

"No trouble, I wanted to bring it."

"Oh but I couldn't accept a gift without repaying you, it would be rude of me."

"Repay me later," he growls, and you smile a little wider. You like this dance, you've never had a fae try so hard to get their hooks in you. You set down your watering can and lean against the brick across from him. Your weight resting on your elbows, the threshold humming between you.

"But I can repay you now."

"It's a gift."

"Gifts have strings."

"Then it isn't a gift," he says, mirroring your posture.

"Then what is it?" You ask, his eyes flick to your chest, appreciative, wanting. His confidence is charming, or it would be if you were the sort of person to take the fae at face value.

"A name," Your smile drops, your heart jumping up your throat. He must see the panic in your eyes because his smile widens. "Not to keep, just... to call me when we talk." Your pulse tries to slow from the impact of panic. He did that on purpose, you try not to look too rattled by this. You try to think of an appropriate repayment.

"I can't tell you mine."

"I know." He purrs, pleased with himself for catching you in your own defenses. You feel a chill graze your skin through the threshold, the edge of Winter. He knows exactly the corner he's backing you into. He gives you time to think through your options, to panic at the weight of his offer.

"I don't-"

"I know." He pushes, tapping against the solid line between you. You've never had the sight, but you can feel his magic collide with yours as he hits the threshold. You toy with the hagstone on your necklace, the worn stone warm from your skin under your fingers. "Witch," he warns.

"I'm still thinking."

"Think as long as you want," He leans closer, "but call me Price while you do."

Your heart stops, your thoughts grinding to a halt as well. Price. It fits him. You feel the silver thread searching for purchase in your soul, and break one of your long standing rules.

You lean over the threshold and kiss him. Because you know he wants to have some part of you, and you know he wants you on the wrong side of the fence. The thread breaks as his hand slides to cup your cheek, tipping your head as his lips slide against yours. It's your first one, and you think it's worth the price of his name.

His beard sort of tickles but his lips are soft and insistent, and you lean a little further over the wall to stay close. His hands are entreating, coaxing you further across the threshold. His teeth dig into your lip and you open for him, let him drag his tongue against yours as his fingers thread through your hair. You feel your feet leave the ground, the brick digging into your hands as you put your weight on them. The pain is enough to bring you back to your senses. You don't know what would happen if you let him take you.

Price sighs as you pull away and settle back on your side of the wall. He feels a thread hook in him. You've overpaid. He values your touch more than you apparently did, how fortunate for him. And unfortunate for you.

#fae!Price #a potential darling #this witch is more nice than the one Gaz is trying to deal with #gonna say shes a hedgewitch #very old school folk magic and family magic #john price x reader #john price mw2 #captain john price #john price x y/n #john price #fae au #Price visiting his darling on the edge of winter every day bringing her little things #and going home with a bundle of food and fresh produce #asked my friend who has daddy issues to help me with this #hope its good for yall

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midnightsxblue · 11 days

Text

UNDER THE WEATHER

carl grimes x reader

tags: fluff but warning for sickness!

masterlist here!

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

Living in the apocalypse, the only sort of sick you were ever worried about was getting infected. For some reason it’d never crossed your mind you’d actually maybe catch a cold or a fever until the prison. Even then you never got sick. The most you’d ever actually been ill was throwing up when you killed your first walker and you got a bit sniffly as the seasons changed.

Thankfully, Alexandria was the first place you actually gotten a cold at, which left you room to rest and get better without worrying about walkers n such. You didn’t worry much when you became sick, but Carl definitely did.

It’s not like you were extremely unwell, you had just a sore throat, unsteady body temperature, headache, all the annoying symptoms. You tried to act normal all morning as you were supposed to go on a supply run. You were exhausted though and it showed in your face. You arrived at the gates to meet with the group. Daryl, Rosita, and Aaron were waiting at the cars when you walked up.

“Where’s Carl?” You croaked out before clearing your throat. They all sort of consider the rasp in your voice before Daryl responds. “He’s comin. What’s wrong with you?” You try to act like you have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” Before Daryl can respond, Carl arrives and taps your shoulder. You turn and greet him with a smile.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not going.” Rosita states, placing her hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.” She adds. Carl looks to you and notices how pale you’re looking. He did look at you before but didn’t particularly think anything of it, he was excited to go on the run. “She’s right. I’ll stay with you.”

“No I’m going.” You complain, it’s practically a whine. “We won’t allow that.” Aaron chimes in. You release a sigh of frustration and look at Carl, realizing you’re definitely staying home for this one. “Such bullshit.” You roll your eyes and begin to walk back to the house.

“You’re welcome!” Rosita laughs and they begin to get in their cars, Carl behind you somewhat. “Hey we should get you checked out.” You hear him say. He speeds up a bit to catch up with you. “I’m okay I’d rather just go home.” You give him a small smile and continue to walk. “Well what’s wrong? I’ll try and get whatever you need-” You cut him off. “Carl it’s okay, seriously. I can handle myself.” Coincidentally, as you say this you feel an itch in your throat which prompts you to cough, turning into a chain of very violent coughing. How embarrassing.

“Yeah okay I’m gonna get the stuff you need.” Carl remarks concerned. You accept defeat and nod at him. “Fair. I’ll be at home.” You explain your symptoms and he nods, heading wherever he needed to go to find anything to help you. You go home in the meantime and change into comfortable clothes to sleep in. You grab a blanket as well as a comic and sit on the couch to wait for Carl to get back. He comes home about twenty minutes later with a bag in his hand. He greets you and goes to place the bag on the counter.

“Don’t get mad, but I told Denise to come check on you since you’re too stubborn to go to the infirmary.” Carl explains as he begins unloading random stuff from the bag he brought home. You look at him from the couch with a peeved look. “Seriously? The last thing I want is a checkup.” You frown. “It’s not a checkup if you know you’re unhealthy. Now just lay down and rest, I’ll take care of you in a moment.” He smiles. Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you continue to read your comic on the couch.

Carl later comes over with medicine that Denise told him would help with majority of your symptoms. Times like these made you appreciate being able to breathe through your nose regularly a lot more. Denise came over and checked on you as well to make sure your temperature wasn’t too high. After that you rested for a while.

“Hey.” You hear, feeling a nudge as your eyes are basically glued shut while you were napping on the couch. You pry them open to see a smiling Carl. “I made you soup.” You open your eyes fully and prop yourself up on the couch. You look at the coffee table to see a bowl of chicken soup and then back at him, sort of concerned. He wasn’t the best in the kitchen when it came to specific dishes. “Um…it was canned actually. Not sure why I lied but…yeah you can enjoy that.” He says awkwardly, you sort of giggle and he sits beside you on the couch.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” You pull the bowl of soup onto your lap and stir it a bit. “I don’t care.” He responds shortly. “You don’t care?”

“Not if it’s because I’m taking care of you. You’re my top priority.”

You stare at him, sort of appalled that he cared that much. He was a great boyfriend, he was but…you never expected him to be that perfect. He stayed home from a supply run he was so excited to go to just because you were feeling under the weather. He isn’t making you feel bad about it either. There’s no way he can get any better than this. You find it a bit hard to respond to that but before you can muster up any sort of response, he continues.

“Anyway I asked around hoping people would spare some of their teabags since we’re out and so is the pantry. I got a few. Do you like honey?” You shake your head, still slightly appalled at the fact he’s putting this much effort in. He got up to go make your tea and you sit there silently as you eat your soup. He later comes back and sits next to you, placing the cup down on the table in front of you. “I hope I made it right. I had to ask Carol.” He giggles.

“Thank you.” You say genuinely. He kisses your forehead and then your cheek, not a care in the world if he were to get sick.

“No problem.”

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

a/n: hey guyss i’m feeling a bit better and i thought i’d try and write today and i was able to do it comfortably soooo woot woot! i don’t love it butttt i’ll live :) sorry it’s so short. (mac read this first.)

#carl grimes #carl grimes twd #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes angst #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #twd carl #twd fanfiction #fanfic

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deatheatet · 8 months

Text

I've seen a lot of "IF PAZ LIVED AU" and she always joins the Na'vi but here are my opinions for it (headcannons sort of)

Paz stayed behind because Quaritch lied about when they were leaving so she was with spider when they left (She was cussing him like a dog in Spanish,when he got back it was gonna be 10 times worse)

But he didn't come back instead standing with Parker and the science pukes with her son in her hip inside hells gate,here come's Jake Sully and his little native wife as well as others

She didn't know what was going on but she looked for Quaritch for 10 minutes before Parker walked over to her

"I-.... I'm sorry Paz" and handed her the Colonel's dog tags

Paz stared at the tags for a second or two before she tilted her head back and looked back at the tags her hand over her mouth crying, something she never did in front of anyone but Miles

Jake had watched with a curious look because he didn't know what her connection was to Quaritch

Paz laid with little spider cuddling to her chest holding on to her dog tags that night

Mo'at met Paz visiting Hells Gate with Jake one day and was horrified to learn that Jake intended to put spider in cryo when it could kill him to send him back to earth

She fought Jake, Neytiri,Arwkey,and others to let Paz stay because she had her daughter taken from her,she would NOT willingly put another mother through having to leave or lose her child,after Jake suggested sending Paz back only to send spider back when he was older

In the end Arwkey's mate,Inkeyni and her mate,and most elder's sided with Mo'at,Jake Sully could not force Paz Socorro and her son to leave Pandora

Paz later got a visit from Jake after he had discovered she was Quaritch's lover and Baby Mama

Paz after hearing one worthless, absolutely Pathetic, severely insincere apology from Jake told him to get the fuck out before she shot him

When Jake turned to leave she said this

"You wanna know my babies name Sully? It's Miles Sully. I named him after his daddy"

Jake was pissed and sure Paz had just named him that to get under his skin... It worked better than he wished

But after the war and Jake figures out Neytiri is pregnant.. he usually was found most nights at late hours getting drunk with Paz,the only other person who would understand his thoughts, even though they hated each other

Paz made sure her son knew everything his daddy did but wasn't one sided with it like the Na'vi who said he was a monster while Paz accurately said he did bad things for the right reason and spider agreed with Paz

Spider met Kiri and since he couldn't say it right called her "Kitty" for the first five years of knowing her

Paz loved Kiri because she was a sweetheart little girl who didn't shun her son for being a demon

Paz also will refer to Kiri as Miha or Mi Nina my daughter and my girl

Paz first met Lo'ak while he was trying to show Jake a picture of an Ikran he drew but Jake had gotten very annoyed with it and hissed at Lo'ak to leave him alone for 5 seconds while he did something

Paz had gotten very pissed at Jake but walked over and asked Lo'ak if he would show her his picture which he did and Paz asked if she could keep it because it was so pretty. Lo'ak happily said yes and was all smiles the rest of the day

But the harder Jake and Neytiri got on Lo'ak as he got older the more he drifted to Paz as an affectionate parental figure.

Accidentally called her Mama in English once after getting in trouble for fighting by Jake and Jake Jerking a knot in his tail (Not literally but you get the drift)

Paz was very upset as to why he freaked out so badly about an accident but told him if he wanted to call her Mama he could

He did so often and Kiri seeing the very clear favoritism her parents showed her and Neteyam and Tuk she drifted away some as well.

Kiri calls Paz Sanu(Mom/Mama) and calls Jake and Neytiri Sempul(Father) and Sanok(Mother)

Lo'ak calls them the same thing

Paz has a scrap book with pictures of her and spider,her and Lo'ak and her and Kiri. The kids made a full page for her birthday they planned themselves

Lo'ak wrote under a picture of him being hugged by her after getting his Ikran " Happy Birthday Mama❤️"

Kiri wrote under a picture of her hugging Paz's shoulders and leaning over her shoulder on the side "I love you Sanu" and "Happy Birthday Sanu" below it

And spider wrote under a picture of her hugging his shoulders from behind with her head on top of his "I love you Mami"

Paz also calls Lo'ak Miho and Mi nino like she does spider

Lo'ak and spider came back from the village one day after getting hit and not fighting back. Paz said this

" I don't give one flying fuck if Sully gets mad someone lays a hand on you or Kiri and Tuk you put them flat on their ass and make damn sure to hurt'em"

Argued and won against Jake afterwards

Mo'at and Paz became very close due to understanding each other very well

Paz and Kiri have weekly girl sleepovers and girl talks mostly about boys and men that are hot (Paz The men of the clan/Unmated) Kiri usually spider is her number 1(Paz knew about the crushes before they started) would talk about boys who had already passed the rites of passage (Ikeniyi's clan). She thought they were more attractive and mature than her clan.

Paz was the first person Kiri told when a boy from Ikeniyi's clan started courting her(Right after she got her Ikran) Paz threatened him within an inch of his life

Okay I think I've been at this for way to long now so any readers I apologize for making you read so much but vote please

Also feel free to suggest or request a one-shot from me

#paz socorro #miles quaritch #jake sully #spider socorro #miles socorro #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #kiri sully #lo'ak sully #tuktirey #Ikeniyi #Arwkey #mo'at #parker selfridge

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delicrieux · 3 months

Text

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 3. summer 1972, late august

pairing for this chapter—sirius black x f!lestrange!reader warnings for this chapter—sirius hates his brother word count—4.3k

in which you show an act of bravery worthy of a gryffindor. if the come up, that is, wasn't so inherently slytherin.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

all of sirius' records are bought by andromeda. no one ever speaks of her. it’s bad luck. might split the sky in half, or disentangle the galaxy and all of its atoms; unravel it all, suddenly, like aunt druella falling to her knees at the mention of a well-loved name. she claimed a fainting spell, but you knew. the lights were particularly dim that evening at dinner.

no matter, you're well-meaning enough not to bother. everyone is allowed their own interests. you find it in the depths of father’s coffee cup and the curious hills and swirls the grounds make as they dry. how they shift in the wispy morning light, or become swallowed by your shadow. andromeda’s lay in things not known by the lestranges, or perhaps things frowned upon. she mails her curiosities to sirius via the muggle post. when a strange man appeared at the gates of the lestrange manor, everyone had fallen into a frenzy. the whole household, all twenty-some-or-more staff and four inhabitants (discontent house-elf and mother excluded).

this foreign officer referred to himself as 'the postman,' whatever that meant. grumpily (he was left standing in the rain, see), he shoved a parcel into your affronted butler's hands and demanded a signature. no quill, only a slim, plastic tube that clicked irritably when pressed by his finger. you and regulus watched this whole display out the second floor window, leaning over the ledge for a better look. a whole variety of things came to sirius, it was revealed, all of it contraband in a sort, to your knowledge. a bit of illicit music, a few letters with charmingly fancy stamps. a card titled Miss you that you just managed to save as rabastan threatened to throw it into the fire. a glossy magazine you and regulus were allowed to browse through briefly, only to see for yourselves the unmoving, ugly muggle world.

of course, sirius didn't know of any of this – it was stored away without his knowledge of its arrival. locked up in the attic, where all unpleasant things lie. you and regulus and the staff were sworn to secrecy. sirius musn't ever know his disgraced cousin is sending him strange things and corrupting his impressionable mind. you didn't mean to linger, or listen, or intrude. the pool laid waiting for you, and regulus, impatient by your side, tugged on your sleeve. a plea to leave before your brothers went on a tangent. so many new words to learn. this was, however, the most interesting thing to happen all summer, overshadowing even the long awaited wedding. a muggle postman under the lestrange roof. bella, if she was not away, would have thrown a fit to be outshined by such a thing.

that very night, you sneak out of your room. the hallways are dark in spots where moonlight doesn’t spill; the portraits are asleep, and the landscapes are quiet. the soft echoes of your bare feet against the cool tiles of the flooring make you shudder in your linen. summer heat lingers by the ceiling, though the nights are usually chilly. you creep silently, as you have many times before. you are quite adept, a child who can't seem to stay put no matter the trouble it may cause. and this may cause quite the bit.

you wander to the attic, mind the seventh step with the creaky floorboard, and ascend slowly. patience is a virtue, and when you really want, you possess wells of it. here, the dark is thick, almost tangible, and how and where you move is more thanks to memory than sight. though the dust burns at your eyes, they do eventually adjust, and the outline of a shape becomes easier to see.

austere, sparse. only the sooty remains of old armouries are left. furniture gone to rot, and masses of small boxes and unattended bookshelves. never a pleasant place, even during the day. it sits right above mother's room, and you try to avoid this part of the house entirely. a blind spot, like the corner of your eye. nothing well is ever found here, and you never come searching.

a bit of fumbling and you locate the parcel. it would be good to bring everything, but it's quite heavy, and you'd rather not risk it. you'll let sirius know of his hidden belongings once you have surprised him. you are not as selfless to inform him instantly, no. no, no, to miss an opportunity as this would be a great loss. how else would you show a bravery than going against the collective wishes of the black and lestrange families and blindly grabbing around in the dark for his cousin's gifts?

you sort through the things. lay them gently beside your feet; hear the roll of a crystal charm as it travels down the room and gets lost in a shrouded corner. you thought of waiting for a few days. spun a great tale of being watched and trying to get the presents to him as quick as possible, only to amplify the intensity of it all. your attention span waned an hour into your promise to keep this secret.

you grab for a record and flee. sirius likes music the most. this will make him happy.

carrying your load through the manor's quiet maze, your senses prickle at each shadow. perhaps someone is following you, or you can hear them whispering. the slightest tinge of an anxious feeling comes and goes with each breath. when you were little, regulus needed to hold your hand through the dark, since sirius was too old and too cool for that at eight. the manor at night made his pulse jump under his skin and then, you were the braver of the pair. now, reggie doesn't need your help, and neither do you need his. you’d prefer his quiet reluctance beside you. a want to continue but being too cowardly to make the first step. you’d march together. should you have invited him?

no, sirius wouldn’t like that. he prefers his brother out of sight.

at last, sirius' bedroom door presents itself before you. the faint whistle of the wind rattles the windows. instinctively, you grab for a hand that isn’t there.

you hope he isn’t asleep. he’s too grown to go to bed at an early hour. he must see you in motion, so brave in delivering contraband. contraband is a new word you've learned recently, and you quite enjoy saying it. contraband. this record is the first in, what you presume, a long line of suspicious items you will have to sneak. it will all be worth the effort.

you rap on the door. one. two, three. a forth one for safe measure. no response.

"sirius! i have a gift," you whisper, leaning in close. your cheek presses onto the cool, glossy surface, and thunder rumbles somewhere far overhead. it is not the prettiest song, but you like how deep it is. and sometimes, late at night, when the dark is very deep and the manor is quiet as the grave, you like to hide under the covers, "sirius?" you add, and a beat passes, and it occurs to you might be sleeping.

your plans of grandeur are deflated a little. what is the point of a secret if he isn't there to be surprised?

then, the handle clicks. slowly, cautiously, the door creaks open just enough for him to stick out his head. he's pouting. his gaze flickers, a nervous twitch, "why are you awake?" his voice is raspy from sleep, and his cheeks are splotchy, "aren't you scared of the dark?"

of course not, you had told yourself that the whole trek over. he waits patiently for an answer, despite how tired and annoyed he appears. your heart pounds at the sight. his hair looks funny, tousled. a wave falls over his forehead and the rest stands in spikes. you wonder if regulus' hair will do that in the morning. at breakfast, likely not. if you came to wake him unannounced, it likely would. how embarrassed he’d be.

you hold the record close to your chest, but not too tightly. sirius had once said they are fragile and can shatter if handled unkindly. still, you fear your arms might crush it if the rumble of the thunder shakes it from your grasp, like it would a robber caught red-handed.

"it isn't scary," you try, and tentatively hold out the present, "this came for you. but no one let you have it because, you know, well. it's from, er, you know." can’t say her name, even to someone that would prefer to hear it.

you can imagine a carousel of thoughts whirring madly behind his face. shock. surprise. delight. gratitude. so much more. it's impossible to catch everything, not even in the blip of light. thunder rolls.

"thank you," is his only response. he perks up as he takes his present. perhaps he had gotten over the surprise a bit quickly, or he had expected this to be sent to him all along, but nonetheless, it seems he is rather touched. at least that's what you assume by how happy he's acting, like an eager puppy, "let's go to my bed, 'kay? i've got a record player over there. come on."

you rush after quickly, not one to miss such an opportunity. the room douses in a dim light with a flick of his wand. there are books and clothes and posters slew on every surface and corner, and you overstep a pair of expensive linen trousers carelessly tossed on the rug. next to the bed sits a heavy trunk. he must've been packing. a red and gold scarf peaks over the edge. yours to be, surely.

the space goes mute and settles. like a pop in your ears after travelling via portkey, the sound returns after a small discomfort. a silencing spell. his wand clatters onto the bedside table. you had picked yours only a few days ago, but didn’t dare touch it since you grasped it for the first time.

when you settle into bed beside him, and he sets up the contraption and places the needle, it sings in the quiet. he lowers the volume just a bit.

"muggles like big music, don't they," you remark, though you do rather like it, if it makes him grin so, "can we dance? please?"

a crack, finally, along with thunder. his face splits into a grin, "of course! but a bit quieter. don't want the whole estate to catch you here. come on, now,"

so the pair of you jump and whirl about his room. you're sure he knows real muggle dances. it's very different from waltz, not smooth at all, more free, and not nearly as dignified. but oh, the beats!

as the song finishes and the music winds down, your head spins. not from dizziness, but from pure, unbridled glee. his face matches the feeling. sirius claps, as if he had never been satisfied before now, as if a curtain had gone down. he smiles broadly, a full mouth of teeth, “imagine what people would say if they saw us."

you mirror his expression, "it’s horrendous, isn't it? such disgrace."

a smile and a titter escapes him.

"a terrible affair," he gives a nod to no one, the empty bedroom and his possessions, "it would displease my family greatly. i will never dance another way again."

“what of waltz?”

“what’s that?”

"oh dear, the absolute scandal!" you clasp your hands together in horror, though really, you don't mind at all, "they shall call you a heretic and a bumptious imbecile. surely. won't that be dreadful? your reputation will be ruined."

"utterly! completely ruined. mother will burn my portrait out the family tree."

"what a messy business. tragic. whatever are you to do, young sir black?"

his words and gesticulations and silly faces make you a bit warm. this is quite something to be cherished. him, in his lonely, messy room, and the mellow candlelight. the rain pouring. a nice and pretty tune in the air. dancing is one of your favourite pastimes, besides flying and stargazing.

"hey, wanna play pretend?" he inquires, plopping back onto his bed.

you snort, dropping the audacious accent, "isn't that what we've been doing?"

he shakes his head, though his lips curl and his eyes roll fondly. "different sort. c'mere."

you perch beside him, your head level with his shoulder. his eyes are very shiny. if he told you a story, you wouldn't have trouble believing him, since they tell more than his voice ever would. but that'd be cheesy, and you'd never hear the end of it, if you told him the same. his knee bumps into yours. his head falls forward, just a bit, "tell me a secret."

"tell me a secret."

"no, go first. my secrets are boring, your's are, uh. mysterious. and interesting. and a whole bunch better. pretty please. can i have a hint?"

the compliment, you have to admit, flatters you. so does his prodding and pleading, all his wheedling and how adorable he looks while doing it.

you think of an answer carefully, a plan already forming, "well…someday, i'm going to have to marry, right?"

he groans, "merlin, no, don't tell me you're also thinking of this nonsense?"

your thoughts scramble to change, like little ducklings hurrying away from an unpleasant sound. you frown, a bit ashamed to be rebuffed so unkindly, or you should, but he's still staring at you intently, waiting for you to elaborate. like you had assumed, all boys think weddings silly. sirius is no different.

"is it wrong to think about that? i mean, someday you're going to be married, too," you deflect, "in the future," the distant one, because a child like him cannot comprehend that. or perhaps he can. after all, he will be growing into a man soon, "and besides, with bella's wedding, i suppose it got me thinking."

he has, strangely enough, become flustered. his freckles are darker across his nose, "who says i'll get married?"

"don't you have to?"

"no," he answers defiantly, crossing his arms. how defensive he is suddenly! but with how fidgety he is, it must be a sore subject. perhaps he is being affected more than you'd guessed.

"you're the heir, though," you muss. it's very unlikely walburga won't entangle him into some arrangement. you're sure she already has some sort of ideas for sirius. they are likely being executed as you speak, "you have to make kids to carry on the family, no?"

the odd, stressed look on his face almost breaks your resolve.

"we don't have to do that," he states.

that's news to you, and, logically, seems to be rather improbable. that means you don't have to get married, either. at least you won't have to carry out the other portion of marital duties, of which you are far more squeamish, "hmm," you manage, but you're not convinced. it seems quite rational to you that you should follow the pattern set by generations.

"why would you even want to get married?" he grumbles. the question comes off snottier than intended, "like i'd want some girl telling me how to behave all the time."

"we aren't allowed much choice in the matter."

"the more reason not to, right?"

this conversation had taken a sudden turn, and a sickly, squirmy feeling has taken a seat on the bed between the two of you. the dance music has finished, and the sound of rain overpowers the room. the record spins and crackles.

"we can run away."

the suddenness of his declaration makes the both of you pause, staring at the carpet and bedspread respectively. it’s not a fully formulated thought. can’t be, and in your endless compassion and innate ability to forget audacious ideas, secrets, and suggestions at a moment’s notice, you decide that he never spoke of this, for what he suggested is a breach of trust so careless and terrible that you begin to worry what else lays on his mind. must be many things such as this, dangerous, modern ideas ready to spring free given the proper climate. and the climate is warm, here, built on your friendship and your inability to refuse him.

you decide he had been caught up in the heat of a moment. harmless, silly. he asked you to play pretend, after all.

he amends before the silence could deafen him: "it'll be just the both of us."

you don’t want to listen to this, not in his room, not in your linen, not with the night singing against the windows and the record scratching at the needle. the spin is mesmerizing. he’s older and should understand the implications better. you don’t want to be the one to understand. to be rational, when you only ever wish to be carefree.

you laugh, and it sounds a tad awkward, but what a great big joke! sirius is always funny, "of course. we could live on a raft, or in muggle london. recon there wouldn’t be much of a difference. or perhaps a particularly cosy cave in the scottish highlands. with the sheep."

his eyes narrow, miffed. "i’m serious.”

“don’t suppose i need an introduction, do i?” you smile, but it doesn’t break his frown.

“we can run away.” he says, quite firmly. no more playing, then, “the both of us together," he adds, flicking his eyes away from you. his voice wavers.

"we can't just go and leave,” you start gently, “there's, well, a lot to explain. they’d catch us, too, quickly, i recon. our families. i can’t work, my hands are delicate, even if sheep are a riot. we’d have no galleons.”

"i'd work."

stubborn prat.

"stupid, you're twelve."

"almost thirteen."

"your birthday's not till november," you retort hotly, "therefore: you're twelve. how can you even consider proposing such a stupid scheme?"

his tone shifts, anger showing itself, "don't call it stupid. you haven't thought of a better one!"

you take a deep breath, and fight the childish impulse to sock him on the jaw, "i'm not the only suggesting we run away. that's- you just suggested it, first, no less! all of the sudden!"

"yes! yes, i did, but you were supposed to agree."

you can barely find the words to reply. he just gets so impossibly brattish when he's not having his way, "we can’t leave. that’s positively mental. and we can't leave reggie."

he bristles at the mention of the name, "he's not my problem."

that hurts. for some reason, this cut is especially sharp and stinging, "don't say that. he's your brother."

"only by blood."

such callous words make your face burn. what's this coming from? his posture shifts, back perfectly straight and shoulders taut. this can only mean that his emotions have overcome him. that is never good, "blood is important, though."

his dark eyes glimmer and there's a storm building, something inscrutable, a bad feeling. your mouth goes dry. you had said the wrong thing, a terrible thing. he shan't ever forget or forgive you for this. not to mention the topic itself. these are very dangerous and tender and frightfully unknown waters. you cross your arms and huff, feeling especially very small, "how can you hate him, anyway, when he adores you so much?"

the hard glint in his eyes doesn't leave. in fact, he appears to grow taller and paler with the turn of conversation, or perhaps his skin had always been a rather milky white. his words are colder still, "why are you always defending him?"

"regulus has never done anything bad," your protest is weak. and that isn't what he wants to hear, "he loves you."

"you should be on my side."

"but, why are there sides to begin with?" your tongue feels big in your mouth, and a weird taste bubbles, like metal and rust and salt, "you're brothers, you shouldn't fight."

"he's a rat."

"sirius!"

"and an idiot," he grumbles, "and selfish. a tosser. stop defending him."

this is awful. to see him with such a harsh expression and to be berated as though you're an awful friend and a liar, "stop it."

"what? he's not worth the trouble of you protecting him."

"leave him alone."

"he should leave you alone."

you wince and jerk away. how has everything gotten out of hand so fast? this is his bedside. you brought him a gift, and you danced, and he spoke kindly, and now this. you bite your tongue. your teeth press a bit too hard, “you’re being awful.”

he doesn’t seem to hear you, "why do you even like him anyway?" he sulks. a funny word to describe a very unhappy young man.

"quit it."

"are you fond of him?"

"please, shut up."

"more than me?"

silence. the world tilts, just so slightly, to the right, and spins just a tad bit too fast. does he really dislike his little brother so much? you understand he may feel a twinge of annoyance sometimes, a tad of passive resentment every other hour, which is simply understandable and probably half-decent for brothers, especially those that have nearly nothing in common and no sort of trust. but, there's the matter of an absolute hatred for someone that does no wrong, that would never, by anyone's means, ever hate you back. that isn't fair. it's only heart-breaking.

perhaps you've done wrong not to believe regulus when he confided sirius was terribly cruel to him at times. the thought stings, an acidic sort of shame. regulus wouldn't lie, he's not very good at it. you've only ever seen him sweet and obedient, a boy very different from his older brother. he was honest and soft-spoken, but just as sincere as sirius, though in a subtler manner.

gentle is another good word. or lovely.

one could argue they've both been acting odd lately. regulus had the muddled, far away eyes, but sirius was aggressive in their shared proximity. isn't it expected for siblings to fight and bicker? you and rabastan rib all the time, like it's embedded into your very marrow. you've never grown cold toward him, and you feel this way won't change much, if ever, but there might be a deeper part of you, one that can feel you're much more similar than you originally gave it credit for. perhaps it's the same with them, too.

this discovery makes you itch. it can't be that simple. of course it couldn't be. is this who he is, truly? you almost hope he will suddenly apologize and maybe hug you a bit tighter, or, or make things better somehow, say he's just teasing, tell you you're the dearest most wonderful friend a boy could ask for.

his face crumples like a wet sheet of paper, "answer me. please?"

"you know i'm fond of you both."

"more than him?"

"both."

"so he's your favourite," his voice shakes.

the look on his face…a mixture of embarrassment and genuine hurt. your's must match.

"please don't say that, i don't have favourites."

"you just put up with me?"

"sirius,"

"stop being so vague."

"you're being mean."

he huffs, "fine. whatever, see if i care what you think."

"sirius?"

"don't bother. just leave."

"what?"

his eyes are strangely wet. you reach out to touch his cheek, in the hopes it'll soften him, but he jerks back, like you had attempted to strike him. the two of you gaze at each other wide-eyed and mortified. his eyes keep tearing, but the rest of him is perfectly still and calm. you decide it's probably best to not call attention to his tears, "what should i say then?"

his face hardens, "don't say anything."

"but--"

"go," he mutters, not even sparing you a glance, "just. stop bothering me."

his eyes brim again, and the sight makes your own become glossy. how humiliating. something coils in your stomach, uncomfortable and inescapable. how should you act? but he doesn't know either. all you have are bits and pieces of lessons and rules, none of which apply to this situation, not in a satisfactory way.

he doesn't move. neither do you. his heart beats and you can feel it, too, on your side of the bed. the clock ticks.

time stretches on.

it's a strange feeling, because it's not a foreign one, and you wish it was. the dull sense of loss makes you feel weak and empty, like you've skipped dinner.

carefully, you inch closer, until the tips of your fingers graze his. you clasp them, awkwardly. it's a childish way of keeping the two of you together. your insides hurt. you wonder if his do, too. he feels warm to the touch, solid and real. both of your palms are clammy.

you manage, breathlessly, "i don't want to fight with you."

his jaw remains tense, "no, you want to have my stupid brother's back,"

"please?"

"fine."

your stare at your joined hands.

"i'll leave," you promise quietly.

"good."

a cold silence creeps in after those words. you let go of his hands and step off his bedside, a great, wistful longing coiling in your gut. you gaze, again, hopefully, only for him to sneer. a terrible look, it doesn't belong there, and it doesn't suit him in the slightest. your head drops, you nod once, and step outside his door and out onto the staircase. the air’s tinted with something burnt and foul.

it's dark and quiet and you feel strangely hollow. the stairs twist beneath your feet. you trudge along, mindlessly, hand gliding down the railing you'd perched on with sirius on sunday. what a distance. it feels like an ocean has swelled, swallowing the shoreline. a curious heat rises up from your neck, itching, prickling, spreading all over.

light dances in the parlour room. the hearth cracks and pops strangely. a swish of a heavy robe, a crinkle of parchment, a sniff.

bellatrix.

she's returned. her silhouette stands imposing by the flickering flames. you're not sure why you came here, only that you did.

she notices you lingering there, head propped against the frame, staring. your hair, mused from earlier, likely gives it away, or, the puffiness in your eyes. her wet footsteps line the polished floor. the lull of rain is oddly soothing.

she tilts her head to the side, examining you, "it's awfully late."

you nod. your chin feels sticky. you wipe at it with the back of your hand, the pads of your fingers swiping your cheek and brushing beneath your nose. she holds out her palm and beckons. something in your stomach unravels, just a little. the carpet is rough, and her hand is heavy on your shoulder.

"shouldn't be wandering around at this hour, my dove," her voice is gentle, the light of the fire lapping across her. her eyes shine strangely, blacker, a dark, curious depth. a flash of green pierces through her iris and disappears. she smells like the night, fresh, and something sweetly charred, like a bonfire or campfire, or, smoke, "a proper little lady sleeps early."

a lump in your throat keeps you from replying. you gaze into the fire. the remains of letters and postcards crumple to black ash. a bright, smiling face on the cover of the magazine shrivels up, blackening at the edges and curling, melting in the cinders. andromeda's gifts.

this is why you never want to know anything.

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iamthecomet · 6 months

Note

-sets a craisin chocolate chip cookie in your askbox-

I come baring murder ghoul (past murder ghoul actually) Mountain thoughts.

So in my lore for Mountain, he was cast into Hell after death because he committed a serious crime in life and it lead to a sort of "divine punishment" deal.

The tldr is that he essentially massacred the original occupants of the abbey, like, centuries ago, because they killed his wife when he was still human (she was having an affair with one of the monks, had been their whole relationship, but Mountain loved her so he pretended not to know until it was too much to bear).

Anyway, point is, Mountain has a high kill count straight out the gate, but he's calmer now and just... nobody would suspect that he's capable of such things.

Then there's Dewdrop.

Everyone thinks Dewdrop has the potential to kill... but he won't.

He doesn't.

If he ever did, it would be a complete accident and it would probably break him.

Well, after Aether leaves, Mountain notices that some of the lower level siblings are acting a bit too self important.

They think they're hot shit just because they joined the church, and he can see them abusing what little power they have in order to hurt others, and something about that rubs Mountain the wrong way.

And then they start messing with Dew.

Dew's a stoic, so it's hard to tell when something is bothering him, and that is a strength in and of itself, but all of a sudden he's a lot more "explosive", emotionally volatile, and Mountain see that the siblings are poking the bear.

They want Dew to lash out, because they either think it's funny or they want to get him in trouble.

Either way, Mountain doesn't think it's very nice, and a little voice in the back of his head starts to remind him how easy...

How sinfully simple it would be...

Of course, he tries to ignore it, messes with them other ways, but then they start going after Cumulus, too.

That's two of his packmates that are being mistreated, and if one was enough to make him consider it, two...

Anyway, whether he actually does it or not, those siblings go missing, and nobody seems to know what happened to them, but the plants on one side of the garden seem to be growing a lot better than the ones on the opposite side.

Mountain says he added a little more calcium to the soil, and then just goes back to watching his pack play outside.

...Aether gives him a call later to say that he processed the applications he sent over to make the "transfers" look official.

Anywho.

-slithers away-

How did you know I love craisin chocolate chip!? ANYWAY. Lamp, I've said it before but I have to say it again. I adore your brain. It's so big. Mountain being the deadliest of them. The highest kill count. With a long long fuse? Dew trying so hard to ignore it--to keep his shit together until it's impossible?

Mountain trying to hold off. To just let things play out. Dew can take care of himself. And something will happen to those siblings eventually. They will get knocked down a peg. I love that Mountain realizes that he is the thing that is going to have to happen to them. That if they're being shitheads to both Dew and Cumulus it's only a matter of time before they start in on someone else. And Aether isn't there to put an end to it. And Mountain knows how easy it is. How quick. Knows he could end it in seconds. I wonder if he talks to Aether about it before he does it. Wonder if Aether encourages him. Do we think the others know? Dew? Cumulus? Do they know the real reason the flowers Mountain keeps leaving in their rooms are so beautiful?

#comet comments #lamp #murder ghouls #murder ghoul mountain #mountain ghoul

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foreverdolly · 8 months

Note

Public sex w 50’s Elvis? Like Im talking real dirty and lots of dirty talk

Aaand angry sex w Sebastian Kydd? Maybe reader accuses him of cheating w donna and they have an argument to which he fucks the idea out of her head? 🤭

elvis is definitely a vocal lover, and the idea of him being desperate in public? sign me up, baby.

elvis loves letting other people know that you are taken whilst in public. he has no qualms about public displays of affection. towards the beginning of your relationship, back when the both of you were still in high school, you were a lot more shy about the constant grabbing, kissing and groping. still, you find your face getting hot and knees going weak every time he leans in to whisper how much he wants you. he loves getting this sort of reaction out of you- adores reducing you into nothing but a sweet, blushing lil thing.

elvis loves showing you off when the two of you are in public. your parents were always so strict about the two of you going steady back when the two of you were young. your overly religious parents are terrified that you'll get pregnant out of wedlock, but if they knew half the things that he did to their precious lil' daughter behind the graceland gates. . . well, he knew they'd probably lock you up in their house and throw away the key. his mouth is filthy when the two of you have sex. he lets you know that he loves the idea of actually getting you pregnant- filling you up until he's spilling out of you. he was raised better than that though, and he has every intention of marrying you. his parents would be mortified if he didn't make an honest woman of you.

elvis knows that he's possessive when you're around other men in public settings. with him being an up and coming musician, he's invited to a good many events, which he happily drags you along to as well. it's difficult for him to be without you for hours at a time, especially when your parents let you spend weeks at a time with him at graceland (his parents being under the same roof as the two of you is a comfort to them). any time he sees a man's eyes linger on you for longer than he's comfortable with he can't help but breeze over, long and calloused fingers closing around your hip so that he can pull you into his side. "i see you've met my girl. i'm elvis presley by the way- i don't think we've met before." he's quick to introduce, lips pulled up into a perfect smile. he can't let his temper win in this sort of setting, especially with so many radio hosts, managers and big time producers in the same room.

elvis makes sure to press you against him, not caring how appalled some people might be since the two of you are still in public. he likes putting on a show for others. the two of you have been dating for years, anyway. if he wants to hold you in public like this. . . he'll be damned if someone tries to tell him 'no'. he knows most people brush off his bold behavior with you as him being a musician- an artist. everyone is drinking and merrymaking all around him, while all he can think about is getting pussy-drunk. if it was up to him he'd still be laid up in bed, making quick work of the pretty little dress you'd slipped on tonight. he presses his lips against the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver against his warm breath. "don't you have to go check your makeup or something?" he's desperate to get you to the powder room. he'll use any excuse. surely the colonel wouldn't notice if he was gone for fifteen. . . maybe twenty minutes. just long enough to get a proper taste of you.

elvis doesn't even wait for your reply before he's pulling you off in the direction of the very public bathroom. a woman who's emerging from the door nearly crashes into the two of you, her eyes flying wide open in shock. "'cuse' me, ma'am." elvis mumbles, not even bothering to make any of this look less obvious. he's already closing the door behind you before she can get a good look at the dark flush on your face. "elvis! w-what if she starts tellin' people that i'm some sorta floozy!" you're whisper-yelling, giving his chest a small smack. "this isn't the first time we've done somethin' like this, honey." he tries to assure you. it's too late to stop him now, he's already kissing down your neck, pushing your skirt up with hurried hands. he practically groans when he feels your stockings, giving the straps of the garter belt you have fastened a small tug with his pointer fingers. your teeth bite hard into your lower lip as the elastic slaps against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

elvis, if he was being honest with himself, is a bit of an exhibitionist. he can hear the chatter from the public just outside the door. he knows there will probably be a long line of women waiting to use the washroom by the time he's done, but he doesn't mind. they can wait. if it was up to the ivory haired man then he'd be taking you anywhere. . . anytime. "i'm fixin' to burst, baby. please." he knows he's playing dirty. you always give in when he begs like this. his blue eyes are locked on your pretty lil features, long eyelashes fluttering as he searches your eyes. his mouth waters when you finally lean back against the sink, spreading your legs for him. he moves your panties to the side, loving the idea of being able to see your slick later tonight when he removes them. there's something earth shatteringly hot about the idea of seeing the mess that the two of you make. he'll be more careful about using protection the next time the two of you have sex. for now, the idea of you walking around and talking to the stuck up squares at this party with panties soaked with the two of you is far too appealing.

#foreverdolly #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley headcanon #elvis the pelvis #elvis fic #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis 2022 #sweet nonnie #elvis baz luhrmann

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88-special · 1 year

Text

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering.

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home."

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused.

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

#jeff winger x reader #joel mchale #greendale community college #community #jeff winger #Jeff winger x you #Jeff winger x y/n #britta perry #annie edison #shirley bennett #pierce hawthorne #troy barnes #abed nadir

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nabateaprodigy · 9 months

Note

Hi hello, I wanted to ask if you would be willing to make a (probably over) protective Junko x female reader situation, where reader had had a very tough life between abusive patents and ex’s and now Junko wants to ensure no one hurts her again a sort of hurt comfort meets classic unhinged Junko antics. Thank you very much for reading my request by the by :3

Lady of Despair

Series: Danganronpa.

Characters: Junko.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort.

Reader: Female.

Notes: Ultimate Talent is (U/T). Also, I love this art of Junko it's from a game called Divine Gate. Also, I like this and am happy and proud of how this fic turned out!

Even from your earliest memories as a child, your parents have always been very cruel towards you. Doing below the bare minimum possible to take care of you. The middle school you went to even took notice of this.

However In the end your lying and deceitful parents had managed to convince people that you were perfectly fine. That you were only "Acting this way for attention." Made you sick to your stomach and your hatred for your parents only grew with each passing day.

It had been this way for many years and as awful as it was you had to live and deal with their abuse. It had gotten to the point where you would be looking forward to going to school each day. Spending time at school would be much better than being at home with your parents.

You had also tried your hand at relationships as another escape from your parents and your home life. However, even this didn't seem to work well for you. Some of your partners were or even more abusive than your parents.

Say what you could and couldn't do what you could and couldn't wear who you could and couldn't be with. Between parents and parents, it was a never-ending cycle of despair. It was one you wouldn't ever find yourself escaping from.

And yet one day that cycle was finally broken and you couldn't believe it. This had to be some cruel joke right? But no it was happening Hopes Peak High School had scouted you to be the (U/T).

You really couldn't believe it but as it finally settled in that you had been scouted to Hopes Peak High School you were so happy! But wait when was the last time you were happy? But you couldn't care to think about that you were happy truly happy and you wouldn't let this opportunity pass you by!

With this chapter of your life began you left everything behind your home, parents, and ex-partners. You could finally put all of that behind you and not dare to look back. Thanks to this opportunity you wouldn't let anything pass you by and experience everything you can!

...

Okay, now that you were here standing at the Gates of Hope's Peak High School you were extremely nervous, to say the least. You had many questions running through your head all at once. One of the most important ones was what the people here were like.

Due to your past, you had become very nervous and reserved. Not trusting people thinking that if you did your past would only come back to haunt you. It's the last thing you wanted but even still the only thing you ever wanted was to be loved and accepted.

And let's just say you may have gotten more than you barred for. (Not that you minded of course!) But why was this? Well, it was all thanks to one girl Junko Enoshima!

You had heard of her before you had seen her on TV and in many magazines. You were honestly surprised to see that she was your classmate. Although you weren't surprised she had managed to get into a school like Hope's Peak being scouted as the Ultimate Fashionista.

But why do I say "was?" Well, that's because the Ultimate Fashionista was your girlfriend! The way you got into a relationship with her was certainly strange. Although it's not like you cared you were just happy to have someone like her in your life.

As Junko put it you were simply "Too adorable to be left alone!" And "How is a girl like you, not the Ultimate Model? You'll threaten my position as Ultimate Fashionista for being so beautiful! Be my girlfriend!"

And that's ultimately (haha see what I did there? "Ultimately" cuz of ultimate talents? Okay I'll stop...) How the both of you became partners and you couldn't be happier.

At the beginning of your relationship with Junko, you were afraid to open up to her about your past. But as the two of you got to know each other better and trusted each other as time passed.

When you had told Junko about your parents and ex-partners. She was extremely furious, to say the least. Out of anyone she would want to cause them despair the most.

Because how DARE they treat HER girlfriend like that? She would even send Mukuro after them to "silence" Whether you let her do this is up to you...

Junko would also let you hold and cuddle Monokuma. She'd also communicate through Monokuma. Why not text or phone call? Well according to her "That's so LAME! Who uses a phone to communicate anymore? When you can use the despair bear Monokuma I created!"

Of course, she'd still have her phone on her at all times. For when you didn't have Monokuma around and needed to contact her in some way. If you ever need anything contact her! If you don't well she might end up getting jealous...

All in all, you loved her and she loved you and that's all that matters. She was your Lady of Despair.

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catyo90 · 1 year

Note

25. Trying to seduce one another

Could you do this with kili x female reader where kili keeps trying to seduce reader but she finds his attempts absolutely hilarious and he is hopeless at it and he eventually gives up and she's like what we're you even trying to do and he's like seduce you if that wasn't obvious cue more laughing from reader but then she admits that his attempts were unnecessary because she's already in love him ?

Kili x F!Reader: The Art of Seduction...

(Hope this meets your idea. This was a sweet idea to mess with though this is new to me in a sense. LOL)

Kili still remembered the first time you met. He'd been having an argument of some sorts with his brother when he caught sight of you from across the training area causing him to become enthralled by your beauty. He remembered how Fili once he caught sight of you with a small groups of other girls walked over with him and pushed him forward causing him to blush.

Your initial impression was that he was possibly an idiot. A cute idiot. However, as time passed, you found yourself taking quite a liking to him. He was actually very thoughtful, brave, and dedicated to his duties, though he wouldn't openly admit it.

What you don't remember is when you finally realized you were in love with him. It seemed that one day you had simply woken up, gotten breakfast, and were waiting, when you found yourself desperately hoping that he'd drop by and visit you before he left with his brother to hunt. Then, you sort of had an epiphany and realized that you'd been feeling that way for weeks on end. Wasn’t any wonder why? The man was absolutely charming, amusing, skilled with a blade and even more with a bow.

Too bad he never thought that was how you felt. He always seemed to be on edge around you or at least nervous but you never thought much about it until that day.

He'd been getting ready in his room, putting on his armor with the skill that he’d been building up for years, when he'd heard what sounded like someone knocking on the door but no words were said. Confused, he'd finished dressing and poked his head out, Startled, you'd backed up, when you watched him raise an arm to the doorway with a smile looking down at you and said hello in a deep voice. Instead though it came out a bit broken and awkward, You couldn’t help but giggle and told him he should hurry to get some breakfast before going off for the hunt with his brother.

“So...that was you big idea brother? Just to pose and say hey?”

“Well it works when Uncle Thorin does it...I thought maybe it would work on her.”

“That trick only works for Uncle because of his voice. Your hopeless little brother. I don’t see why you can’t just tell her how you feel.”

“Because I don’t wanna mess it up Fili...If I were to tell her I would want it to be perfect. Besides she deserves to be wooed.”

Fili sighed as he focused preparing for the hunt. Kili though couldn’t help but wonder what to try next when they returned but his mind was drawing a complete blank. Maybe he would do better by just asking you if you would be his. On the way to the gate Kili looked up to see you waiting. A sight he truly was always happy to see, a sight you could look at all his days. Both of them walked over to you seeing you read to join them and smiled as Fili noticed you with a pair of warm ale

“You both needed something to warm you up before we head off for the afternoon.”

“Well, don’t give this one too much he could never handle his drink.” Fili said smacking Kili on the back with a smile. Kili chuckled it off and looked at you.

“You know Y/n there are more ways to stay warm...” He said taking a gulp of the ale and looked down offering the goblet back to you.

“You could always keep me warm.” He said with a wink but you couldn’t help but smile as Fili started laughing. Kili looked so confused as he watched you bring a hand to his mouth wiping off the foam mustache he gained from drinking the ale so fast. He was about to speak.

"Kili," someone said on the path out into the woods, looking ahead to see his uncle and Dwalin with their bows at their side with a doe flung on Dwalins back. Thorin seemed a bit puzzled and a bit irritated as he looked at both him and Fili.

"Fili," he said, sounding as though he were gently scolding them pair as if they were children,

"I thought I'd sent word for you two to scout out the wilds an hour ago. What are you still doing here? Surely not bothering y/n and distracting her from her own duties?" They both shook their heads quickly, eyes flitting down and then back up to their uncle

"N-no! Us? Of course not! We were just . . . leaving and we were wishing each other good luck out there, you know?” Fili said quickly trying to hide the goblet of ale behind his back.

“It's been awfully dangerous with all sorts of nasty goblins and orcs and what not. A little boost in morale never did anyone harm." Kili said smiling rubbing the back of his head. Thorin and Dwalin both watched the two to of them for a second in silence. "Right . . ." Thorin said, slowly drawing out the word, showing his clear skepticism.

"Well, I'm sure she appreciates it very much. Now, go do as I've told you, and let her finish getting ready." He then directed his attention to you.

"Y/n, head into the wilds to find any signs of survivors from past missions, undamaged supplies, and any more useful ingredients for the healers. Alright?"

"Yes, your highness" you said, nodding your head respectfully. Thorin nodded in return brining a gentle hand to your shoulder in respect, looking satisfied that at least one of his recruits was serious about their work.

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it." With that, he turned around, pausing to look at Kili and Fili in silence once more and seemed to get the hint and cleared his throat.

"R-right! I'll just be going on along now." But Kili turned to you, leaning in slightly close, and he found it difficult not to let a blush overtake him as he caught scent of your sweet fragrance. He wondered if you’d been using something new to wash with, it smelled of honey and ginger making him smile to himself.

“Y/n” he whispered urgently. " Maybe you can meet me when you return later this evening behind the tumbled pillar up the stairs next to where the gardens are. Don't tell anyone we're meeting there. Just say that you're tired and are feeling unwell and are going to return home,-” "Kili!" Thorin exclaimed, causing him to flinch. "Alright! I'm going! You don't have to sick anyone on me, look! I'm walking away from the nice lady!" he said, putting up his hands as he backed away before turning and booking it as Fili sighed and smirked toward you at his brothers antics, leaving you to stare off after him in confusion and wonder.

- You had rounded a bend on the trail, around a thick copse of swamp trees and boulders, leaving you to hang back and survey the path behind you again for any signs of being followed. You were still looking when you heard a snap of some branches ahead of you. When suddenly you heard a familiar voice from above. "Hey there, Y/n Nice weather we're having tonight, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, it's incredible. You should get a load of it from down here."

You couldn’t help but smile as he jumped down from the few boulders and joined next to you. He simply smiled as you as brought your bow over your shoulder as you looked around.

“Where’s Fili?”

“He scouted a few deer nearby, seemed to be alright with me checking up on you.”

“Well luckily no worries on my end. Perhaps we should head back.” On the walk back, Kili had taken up walking close beside you, and matched your pace. He was silent now, and you found that surprising. Normally he was a regular chatter box, but now he was quiet. Glancing over at him you found his expression to be...nervous?

While you were distracted by your thoughts, you failed to notice him hesitantly reached out and put a hand on your upper arm. You looked to him, snapping out of your reverie, and blinked, perking up. "Hmm?" "Uh, Y/n? I...I need to tell you something," he sighed. "Oh?" You looked a bit nervously at him, brows furrowing. Was something wrong? "Yes," he murmured, and slowed, you too slowed your walk and tilted your head a bit. "Okay, well, what is it then?" He took a deep breath. "Right. What is it, indeed. Um, hh-" He took in a breath, a hand moving to the back of his head. "How...how do you say these things?" he wondered aloud. "Y/n" he said after a moment, shyly looking to you. You nodded, showing him that you were listening still. He blinked a few more times and took another breath. "Um, today...I...uh, actually, for awhile now, I . . . I've wanted to tell you . . . something. Something important." He said as he took one of your hands in his and gently squeezed it. "Yeah?" "Yeah. You see, I...”

Suddenly the ground began to shake as you both saw that a large herd of deer charged past the two of you and caused you both to hide behind one of the bigger oak trees causing both of you to catch your breath. You both saw and heard Fili running past both of you yelling out to both of you shooting after one of the deer's.

“Sorry about that guys...Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You looked up at him once the herd had passed by and looked up at him to see that he had covered you with his body in a protective stance.

“Y/n...Are you alright.”

You nodded as you noticed all the loose leaves on him had gotten stuck in his hair. He looked down at you and saw you smiling for a moment before laughing hard at the sight and sighed as he brought a hand up to hair in slight annoyance.

“Oh for Mahals sake I give up.” Shaking off the leaves from his hair. As he groaned to himself crossing his arms.

“Wait...wait Kili. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. What were you trying to do?”

“Seduce you Y/n. I’ve been trying for days now but you never seem to catch on...I mean all I wanted to do was to show how much I love you.”

You were completely speechless. You almost couldn't process anything that you just heard--it was all too good to be true! This man, this wonderful, amazing, god of a man actually felt for you the way you felt for him. Kili seemed to be put off by your silent awe, and winced a little.

"I... said something wrong, didn't I?" He sighed, looking cross with himself. "I am so stupid. What right have I to honestly believe that someone like you would actually feel anything for someone like me?" He started to turn away when, before you could think about what you were doing, you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward you. His eyes went wide and he was about to ask what you were doing, when you surprised the both of you by kissing him on the lips. He went rigid, turning brighter red than before, now matching your own blazing blush, and slowly let his eyes close. Tilting his head, he put a hand behind your neck, keeping you close to him as you both shared a delightful moment of blissful affection. When you both broke the kiss for air, you found him gazing into your eyes softly, smiling gently.

"Y/n. How long have you been wanting to do that?"

You laughed breathlessly. "Probably as long as you."

He chuckled back, You glanced up at him again, and found him gazing back at you, eyes half-lidded.

"Y/n/ I suppose I'm right to assume that you . . . " "That I feel the same? Yes. You are." You grinned, voice lowered. "I love you, Kili. I always have.

He smiled as he brought his forehead to yours taking a deep breath as you looked up at him and asked.

“I guess none of the failed seductions were really required huh? “ You said with a smirk

"Yes," he admitted, embarrassed. "And only now have I realized how stupid that was of me.”

You were overtaken by another fit of laughter and shook your head. You started to walk away from him and turned around and smiled

"You adorable, handsome fool." you said winking to him as you walked ahead. "Hey." he called from behind you. "You're leaving out ruggedly good-looking and luckier than every other dwarf alive to be loved by you!" he said running after you as you laughed as he followed after you into the sunset. Into another day together.

#the hobbit kili #kili x reader #fili #thorin #dwalin #requested #anonymous request #romance #the hobbit #new #catyo90 #enjoy

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greatestwizardofthisage · 4 months

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assigning each of the bad kids a taylor swift era because i am feeling deprived of tswift content now that she's on break from the eras tour

Kristen: Fearless. I can't even explain why, but to me that album is just so sunny and in my mind it fits Kristen perfectly. I think maybe it's because Fearless was one of the first album I ever really loved, then when I was older the rerecording is what got me back into tswift and I can totally see Kristen going through a similar journey with it where maybe she loves it as a kid but then stops listening to it as she distances herself from her childhood/family, only to fall in love with it again later on. Also I feel like the country vibes fit her well. (She would also LOVE betty but she would pretend it's a lesbian anthem)

Gorgug: Ok this feels controversial but he's a Lover stan. I just fully belive that to his core Gorgug is a lover not a hater and he would un ironically love Lover. Like to me that album is all about having gone through some bad shit and choosing to only carry forward the best of it? And that fits with my perception of Gorgug. ALSO the end of afterglow 'I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things that I hate, or the things that haunt me in the middle of the night' just feels very Gorgug coded to me dont ask me why. However if you've seen any of my other posts about music and the bad kids you know that I wholeheartedly believe Gorgug loves all music so I think he'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite album.

Riz: Midnights. And not just because this kid never sleeps. Bassically I really couldn't decide which album he would listen to because none of them really fit, but then I started thinking about specific lyrics and I think Midnights has the most that he could relate to. I mean 'no one wanted to play with me as a little kid so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since' is about him. You can't change my mind. I do think though that Riz is definitely more invested in all the easter eggs and firguring out which album is coming next over actually listening to her music. Like he would for sure be among the first to figure out all her clues.

Fabian: 1989 and Folklore. I fully to the bottom of my heart belive that until his sophmore year Fabian would exclusivly be listening to pop music, sea shanties, and weird elven music. So obviously he would love the greatest pop album ever made. He wouldn't listen to Folklore until post sophmore character development. Also he would For Sure learn the choreography for the dance in the background of Dress on the Rep tour and recreat it perfectly using his sheet.

Fig: Speak Now. I mean do I even need to explain this? It's the perfect album for Fig. It's the kind of thing she would have loved when she was in her Preppy Cheerleader phase, but it has just enough of that pop punk influence that I feel like she could still appreciate it when she's older. I feel like she would definitly take issue with some of the misogynistic lyrics used in some of the songs, and would be all for the lyric change in Better Than Revenge. Also as I've mentioned many times before, Fig would love Paramore, and would LOVE Castles Crumbling. Like you're going to sit here and tell me that lines like 'They used to cheer when they saw my face, Now I fear I have fallen from grace' + 'Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far, I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart' + 'Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off, And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret' + 'People look at me like I'm a monster, Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name, Now they're screaming that they hate me, Never wanted you to hate me' weren't written by Figueroth Faeth? I also just think songs like Never Grow Up and Long Live would perfectly fit with her not so secret sentimental streak.

Adaine: Evermore and Folklore. I think theres just a sort of elegence to these albums that really reminds me of Adaine. I also think theres so much vulnerability in them and a lot of the songs touch on feelings of not being good enough for others (mirrorball, tolerate it, this is me trying, right where you left me) that I think she could relate to not from a romantic relationship standpoint but from all the expectations placed on her by her parents. I also think that although these are probably the most low key of tswifts albums, they have some good angry songs (no body no crime, illicit affairs, mad woman) that she would definitly love. But yeah this is mostly based on aesthetics. Evermore and Folklore were albums written with a quill and Adaine is the kind of girl to appreciate this.

#ok thats all my thoughts on tswift and the bad kids #thank you for reading #if youre reading all this and thinking 'my blorbo wouldnt listen to that album youre wrong' then PLEASE tell me #i want to hear other peoples oppinions on this please please please #talk to me about my two special interests #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fig feath #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #ps i know a lot of tumblr people dont like tswift and thats totally valid she is morally a very questionable person #long post

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havealotonmymind · 3 days

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Pet Name

Summary: In which Astarion’s affectations start to rub off on a horrified Leviathala (OC).

Spoilers for the end of Act 2 and the start of Act 3!

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Astarion/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Tav, Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Tav & Wyll (Friendship)

Additional Tags:

Romance, Fluff, Pet Names, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Party Banter, Spoilers for Act 2 (Baldur's Gate 3), Spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Fighter Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Also available on AO3!

To love someone so much as to unconsciously adopt their odd quirks and manners of speaking took careful study, if not outright gawking. It was a rather damning indictment, one that could not be readily explained away.

Leviathala had never been partial to pet names, both in using or hearing them. They always sounded much too saccharine. Princess, doll, sweetie pie—all borderline ridiculous and laughable. Her parents only used “honey” or the shortened “hon”, but never as true terms of endearment. No, when those were used, it was meant to summon the other to look over something in the house that needed fixing.

So Lev had never really seen the point. Until meeting Astarion, that was.

Pet names sounded natural coming from him. His flirtatious lines held the musicality of an amusing lie, but when it came to pet names, well…He used them with the same deadly precision as his daggers. A well-placed darling or love or my sweet was enough to kickstart her heart into rabbit-like hysteria. It was not long before she warmed to the sound of it meant just for her.

After finally confessing their true feelings to one another just a few nights before, not much had changed. He didn’t go around advertising their relationship to the others nor did she start openly fawning over him. The Gauntlet of Shar and the defeat of Ketheric Thorm took far more precedence than any sort of formal announcement.

That didn’t stop her from sitting closer to Astarion while they rested, nor him from leaning near enough for their hands to touch. Most times, she would twine her pinky around his and continue on with a conversation as if nothing had happened.

It felt a bit childish. They had sex with each other twice during the very first leg of their journey, after all. Strange how the smallest brush of fingers in front of the others somehow felt more scandalous.

It was Lae’zel, of all people, who finally made a comment about it. “Do you intend to hide your affections for one another the whole journey?” she snapped.

Lev watched Astarion head off to the Last Light washroom with a fond smile playing on her lips. That smile soon fell. “What do you mean?”

“Chk! This Plane’s intricate courting rituals bore me. If you wish to make your pathetic feelings known to him, you must take action lest he is snatched away.” Lae’zel then trod off in a huff.

A small laugh bubbled in the back of Leviathala’s throat. If someone as stoic as Lae’zel was encouraging her to be more open, then perhaps she ought to be so. So she reached out for his hand more often, asked to kiss him after hard-fought battles and once more before resting for the night. Their party made little comment, though she swore she saw Shadowheart and Wyll exchange gold pieces whenever she pulled back from a kiss.

Despite his now near-constant bragging about their relationship to anyone who would listen, Astarion never initiated any physical contact himself. No, his way of showing affection was far quieter than anyone might expect. Whenever he gifted her a new book, he would sit beside her and read one of his own. Once, he handed her a thin vial of scented seed oil he mixed himself then stalked back to his tent without a word. A soothing waft of honeysuckle and autumn crocus floated from within. It felt nice to apply to her horns every evening, and she found herself sleeping all the better for it.

He had also developed a habit of simply staying at her side to annoy her whenever possible.

“Astarion, if you’re going to hover around my tent, at least help me pack my things,” Leviathala said as she stashed the remainder of her potions inside her pack. It had taken her quite some time to get it all set for their journey back to the Gate, especially with the sheer number of spell scrolls she picked up. Organizing them for easy access during battle was essential.

A sentiment Astarion did not seem to share. His own pack was stuffed with more than half of their entire group’s gold, some interesting bits and bobbles, and around a dozen spell scrolls of varying effects and levels of damage.

His eyes fell from checking his perfect nails to the many stacks of books around her tent. “I’ll start with the essentials, then, shall I?”

Lev smiled. “You can store those in the Travellers’ Chest. I don’t expect we’ll find much space to camp within the city walls.”

“You have been quite the little kleptomaniac, haven’t you?” he teased. “Honestly, I think I might be a bad influence on you.”

“Most of those books were just lying there. I’m just giving them a new home.”

“Yes, locked away in a trunk.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t appreciate the steady supply of new books to read. Sneaky as you are, I do notice when my piles have been shifted,” Leviathala said as she turned back to her pack. Everything was in a handy spot, ready for use whenever she needed it. Everything except…

Her eyes scanned over her tent for her crossbow bolts. They needed to be on top for easier reloading mid-battle.

Astarion had seemingly given up on packing her books and was instead engrossed in a book of fables she’d picked up in the Underdark. The bolts laid on the next pile over.

As she pushed herself to her feet, Leviathala asked, “Darling, could you hand me that?”

The moment the words slipped, her blood ran cold. She hadn’t even thought about it, but that was the trouble, wasn’t it?

Astarion snapped to attention. “What did you call me?”

“I…Nothing special,” she said quickly.

His incredulous grin only grew. “Oh no, no, no. Deny it all you like, but I heard you.”

“You didn’t hear anything except me asking you to hand me those bolts please.”

“You called me darling.”

“Astarion—”

“Hm? I’m sorry, I only answer to darling now. My heart or my love will also suffice.”

“Astarion.”

“Funny, that doesn’t sound like a pet name to me.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she hated that that pretty smile of his almost coaxed it out of her.

Lev snatched the packet of crossbow bolts and stalked past him. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

“Darling, come now. Just say it one more time?”

Astarion did not let up even as their party finally hit the Rising Road at last. He called her all sorts of pet names, ranging from his usual my dears and my sweets to absolutely dreadful ones like little kitten and my heart’s calling.

It was a relentless barrage of sugary words that had their companions either giving them long side-glances or outright cringing.

Before he could say another word, Lev pressed a firm hand to his mouth. “Gods, if I call you darling or love, will you promise not to use any of those terrible pet names again? They’re ridiculous.”

His victorious smirk was unbearable. “Why, of course, my treasure.” He leaned in just a bit closer. “If you call me darling now. I want to hear it.”

Lev’s face grew hot. A few of their companions left to set up their tents, but Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll lingered just behind them, unloading the cooking supplies and setting up the campfire.

“Now now?” she asked.

“No better time than the present, as they say. Whoever they are.”

“Fine…” Her tail whipped all over the place in her embarrassment. “Will you please not use any silly pet names with me…d-darling?”

Karlach coughed to hide a very obvious cackle. Shadowheart patted her back and smiled at the both of them from over her shoulder. There again, Wyll not-so-surreptitiously slipping her a gold coin with a sigh.

“We’ll work on it,” Astarion amended.

“I most certainly will not.”

“Are you quite certain, my sweet muffin cake? Darling love and light of my life?”

Shadowheart curled her nose in disgust. “Gods, I can’t take much more of this.”

Leviathala glared at a point in the distance, refusing to look at him directly. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Astarion said and pressed a quick peck to her temple. Her contrived anger dissolved in an instant. That was the first time he ever initiated something like that on his own. Lev brushed her hair away from the spot he kissed with a faint smile.

This awful chameleon effect reared its head again after they all settled in the Elfsong Tavern. With the looming threat of Gortash closing his fist over the city, Orin and her bloodthirsty shapeshifters murdering innocents left and right, and the matter of Duke Ravengard going missing, it was all their party could do to keep from buckling under the pressure.

That called for a time-honored stress reliever: a drinking contest.

Numerous tankards filled to the brim with ice-cold ale sat frosting before Lae’zel, Jaheira, and Wyll. A dark look not unlike that of the calm before a battle brewed over them, each determined to claim victory over the others.

Lev, Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart sat at the nearest table to watch the chaos unfold. Halsin had sequestered himself in their rented room, trying to gain his bearings in a town bereft of nature by carving more wooden ducks than he knew what to do with.

“If you were in the ring, Shadowheart, I’d bet on you as the winner,” Gale said as he watched the others drink themselves into a stupor.

“Oh, I’m sure I would be. I just don’t feel like debasing myself in front of an audience like those three.”

Jaheira remained stone-faced after her fifth goblet while Lae’zel began to wobble. Wyll smiled dreamily off into the distance, but kept pace all the same.

Leviathala laughed, a high-pitched, short giggle that was half-hidden behind her hand. “I don’t think I’ll ask Wyll or Lae’zel to come with me to the Counting House tomorrow. They might not be able to stand after this.”

A hush went over their little group. A normal lull in conversation. Or so Lev thought.

“I think you’ve been spending far too much time around Astarion,” Shadowheart said all of a sudden.

Lev glanced up from her tankard, only to notice them all giving her pained smiles. “What do you mean?”

Shadowheart and Karlach exchanged an amused glance. “I mean,” she emphasized, “that you’re starting to sound like him.”

“What, just because I want to break into the Counting House, suddenly I’m a rogue?” Lev scoffed.

“It’s not that. You know that laugh he does when he’s pleased?” She looked to Karlach for assistance.

“Yeah, the one that goes ah-ha-ha!” Karlach mimicked his haughty giggle with a flare of her hands. “That one?”

“Yes, that one.” Shadowheart turned back to Lev. “You do that, too. You never used to laugh like that.”

Lev clapped a startled hand over her mouth. “No! That’s not…No, I don’t.”

“Er, you just did, soldier. I dunno if we would’ve pointed it out otherwise.” Karlach scratched the back of her head. “For what it’s worth, it is kinda cute, you picking up each other’s habits ‘n all.”

Gale smiled. “Lev, there’s no shame in mimicking someone you love. Those traits are why you love them, I imagine. Why, I think I affected Mystra’s speech well into our own relationship myself.”

Leviathala hid her face in her hands. “Gale, that’s not helping.”

Thank the Gods Astarion was out scouring the city for criminals to drain or she’d never hear the end of this.

“All right. Shall I tell you the little habits I’ve noticed Astarion picking up from you then?” he asked. “I don’t think Astarion himself has even noticed. I’m almost tempted to point it out to him the next time he mocks me for something trivial.”

“Go on. It can’t be any worse than me calling him darling or laughing like him.”

Gale’s eyes sparkled. No doubt he thought of that as an unintended challenge. “Have you noticed that Astarion has a propensity for flowers and mushrooms of late? He used to brush past them all as though they were naught but weeds. After our time in the Underdark, particularly after we infiltrated that arcane tower, he’s kept a sharper eye out. I doubt he’s using them to concoct his own potions and elixirs. Too much work.”

Lev had to admit, she had found much more herbs and flowers in her alchemy pouch lately. She initially chalked it up to not having time to go over stock, but if it was Astarion filling up her supply…

Perhaps it might be a sign that he’d taken a mild interest in her potion-making hobby, but it was also a matter of their party needing these ingredients to survive their arduous journey.

“So has everyone else, Gale. It’s far more convenient than hoping to run into a merchant carrying potions. Cheaper, too.”

“Yes, but he takes after your lead,” he pressed. “I once caught him reading your journal of potion recipes. He’s a rather rapt student when he wants to be. Especially when that teacher is you.”

Lev slouched in her seat. Gale might speak with all the authority of a scholar, but when that study was Astarion’s behavior, even she had been wrong before.

“Anything else?”

His confident smile fell. “Right, well—”

“He’s started to hum and sing more often,” Shadowheart pointed out. “Honestly, if you want to showcase similarities, you start with the obvious, Gale.”

“Humming and singing could just be a mere indicator that he’s in love!”

“Singing tuneless ditties about what he’s doing the moment he’s doing it? Lev started doing that much earlier than him.”

“That doesn’t annoy you all, does it?” Lev asked. “I’m no bard, but it helps me think a bit clearer when I’m organizing my things. Just a trick my mum taught me.”

Karlach gave a hearty laugh. “Nah, sing away, soldier! I like it. I think I only caught Fangs doing that, like, once or twice, though.”

“You’ve never set up your tent near his,” Shadowheart said. “He used to be silent as the grave, if you’ll pardon the pun. Now he hums off-key whenever he’s cleaning his daggers or sprucing up in front of a mirror he clearly cannot see himself in. I have half a mind to throw something at him when he does it.”

“Fine, I’ll concede that point.” Gale threw his hands in the air.

“You notice how whenever we go to a new place nowadays, he steers towards the books first? Just like Lev,” Karlach said. “They’re both rabid bookworms.”

Gale sat up straighter, happy to have regained footing. “Yes! That was another point I was going to bring up. When we broke into Sorcerous Sundries' vault the other day, he seemed to take particular interest in the scrolls and books. The magical treasures, wondrous as they were, he all but ignored.”

“He’s been looking for a way to safely read that Thayan necromancy book I gave him a while ago,” Leviathala pointed out. “That book he found in Sorcerous Sundries finally gave him the key he needed to be able to read the rest. Besides, he probably liked reading way before I was ever born.”

“That’s not the point, soldier, and you know it.” Karlach downed the rest of her tankard in a few gulps then slammed it on the table. “You rub off on him more than you think. He clearly does the same to you. It’s how we all act around people we care about, I reckon. We’ve all probably picked up each other’s little habits without noticing.”

The conversation was cut short when Lae’zel unceremoniously collapsed the moment she tried to stand up and get in Wyll’s face. Lev and Karlach went to collect her, smirking over as Wyll slapped a hand over his mouth and burped an excuse to the nearest chamberpot. The sound of his retching put many unfortunate people out of their meals.

Jaheira grinned at her victory, pushing herself to her feet. There was only a faint, almost imperceptible wobble to her gait as she headed up to sleep this off. Their group helped their other two companions into their own beds with some difficulty. Shadowheart was of sound enough mind to turn them both on their side and leave them a glass of water.

“I’ll prepare Lesser Restoration for tomorrow,” she sighed. Her eyes fell to the Amulet of Silvanus around Lev’s neck. “Unless you want to tell your boyfriend to stay away from your neck for one night to help me?”

“It’s a one-time daily use, Shadowheart,” Leviathala said with an amused smile. “You’d need to prepare Lesser Restoration regardless.”

Shadowheart heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. I knew this drinking contest was a bad idea…”

“That’s not what you said when you bet on Lae’zel to pass out first.”

A rare genuine smile graced her lips for a moment. “True. Karlach owes me ten gold.”

They all exchanged cheery departures as they prepared for bed. Yenna curled up on a sofa with her cat, already snoring away. Leviathala sat by the cozy fire, feet propped up on the other of the twin red sofas. The seat was quite stiff, so she sat at an awkward angle to stop her tail from cramping.

Astarion slipped into their shared room well after twelve bells. He met her gaze with a start, like he was a kid caught sneaking out. Leviathala smiled and immediately put down the book she was reading.

“Not asleep yet?” he whispered as he approached.

“I was waiting up for you.”

“You didn’t have to. But I’m glad you did,” he said as he nudged her legs aside to sit beside her.

Leviathala couldn’t help but notice that he had unconsciously mimicked how she sat, even without a tail of his own to accommodate. She suppressed a laugh. Perhaps their companions were right, after all. Not that she would ever point out these newfound habits to his face.

“Good hunting?” she asked, nodding at the tiny trail of blood he’d failed to wipe away. A habit of his she almost thought intentional after the first few nights of drinking from her neck. After a while, it became apparent that, without being able to inspect himself in a mirror, he simply had no idea it was there.

“Very,” he said, wiping away the blood at last. “Some rude muggers trying to go after a small family. They tried all manner of nasty threats to get me to leave. The muggers, not the family. Not associated with the Guild as far as I could tell, but I’m sure some bottom-rung underlings won’t be missed in the grand scheme of things.”

Leviathala smirked. “You almost sound like a member of the Fist talking like that.”

Astarion made a face at the association. “Now that’s by far the worst insult I’ve heard tonight.”

“Sorry, love.”

An intentionally placed pet name, but one that got his attention all the same.

“Oh? Love, hm?”

“What? Just trying it out. I like the sound of it. More so than darling, at any rate.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Darling, how dare you.”

“I meant me saying it,” she added with a light laugh. “Pet names are just so…awkward. Calling you love feels right because it’s true.”

His real smile was always hard to pick out, harder still in the relative darkness around them. Just the quickest shift of his lips, almost as if he was used to hiding it.

“Darling and love are the same things at the end of the day. You should expand your pet name repertoire, my dear.”

“Oh, my dear’s a good one,” she teased. “You are very dear to me, my darling love.”

Astarion frowned. “Gods, now I know how it feels to be on the receiving end.”

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Leviathala said. “Almost inauthentic.”

His mock-offended expression made her laugh once more and she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You know I’m just teasing about the pet names, right? Don’t force yourself if it doesn’t feel natural,” he said, wrapping a heavy arm around her.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling, I won’t.”

He paused. “I can’t tell if you’re being cheeky or not.”

“My dearest heart, whatever do you mean?”

At this, he lightly shoved her away. “All right, I think it’s time we sleep.”

Before he could get up, however, Leviathala tugged on his sleeve. “Wait, no kiss before bed?”

“Make fun of my flirting methods enough, Leviathala darling, and you’ll find yourself wanting before long. Good night.”

She let him go, pouting. “Well…all right then.”

As they headed off to their beds, Astarion smirked at her sulking. “Don’t give me that, my dear. You’ll ruin my resolve.”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

He made a show of rolling his eyes. “Oh, very well. I’ll indulge you,” he said in a manner that very much did not hide how eager he was.

She blinked when he wrapped an arm around the small of her back and pulled her to him. His lips found hers easily. They’d had much practice, after all. Leviathala was confident that he’d find his way to her in total darkness.

Astarion pushed forth with a hungry insistence that she met with a surprised, but equal fervor. She gripped his waist to steady herself, and he grunted appreciatively. When he finally broke away, he leaned his forehead against hers, hand still lingering on her cheek for just a moment longer.

“There,” he said breathlessly. “Satisfied, darling? Or…do you still want more?”

Leviathala rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Darling, how could I say no?” she teased and leaned in once more.

I’ll be honest, at this point in my playthrough, Lae’zel had already been kidnapped by Orin way before I rescued Minsc. I’m taking a bit of creative license with the timeline to let the party have a bit of fun at the Elfsong lol. Also the Astarion laugh I'm talking about is the short one at 14 seconds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoW6gyzEAIE Hope you enjoyed my little self-indulgent fic! Until next time!

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Astarion #Astarion x Tav #I Feel Seen (Astarion/Leviathala)#Keep a Blade Close (Astarion)#The Wayward Tactician (Leviathala)#my fanfiction #The Hero and Me (Promotion)

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