#that song is one of the most difficult to play and he mastered it in a little over 2 weeks??? that's some crazy commitment

[princess-josephina]

Thinking about how Eddie taught himself Master of Puppets in under 18 days and the resulting headcanon is this: Eddie absolutely hyperfixates on his interests.

I imagine him getting his hands on that Metallica album as soon as it is available in Hawkins, scratch that, he definitely drove to Indianapolis to buy it. Master of Puppets captivates him completely. He needs to be able to play it. The next week goes by in a blur. He eats once a day and only because Wayne's cooked something and practically forced the food down his throat. He sleeps a little, but keeps jumping out of bed and grabbing his guitar throughout the night because somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, his brain finally understood how that particular solo bit is played. He's maybe showered once and been to school twice that week, walkman playing Master of Puppets on repeat during breaks, his mind replaying the song in class as his fingers move over imaginary bars. His friends let him be, knowing it's no use trying to get him out of that bubble when he gets like this. (They do remind him they have D&D next week, and he will absolutely make time for that; unlike school, the Cult of Vecna is actually important. Besides, he's gotten most parts of the song down by week two. He can afford some distractions.)

He's probably like that with everything. He frantically writes D&D campaigns overnight, oversleeping and missing morning classes because he just has to get all of these ideas on paper before they escape him. If he's into a book, he's gone to the world until he's read it cover-to-cover, and then re-read it to highlight and memorize some of his favorite quotes. But those are never the books from the school curriculum - most of that shit is boring. Oh, is it currently Math class? Who cares, Eddie's too busy sketching things that won't leave his brain alone, be it Hellfire T-shirt designs, or a new Corroded Coffin logo, or D&D character concepts, or the absolutely metal tattoo he's getting next time he goes to Indianapolis.

No wonder he's failing school and repeating senior year twice. Eddie's not dumb, far from it. He just can't be bothered to do homework and attend school regularly and pay attention in class when there's so much more fascinating stuff to be done.

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll 5

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?

CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.

WORDS: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰

LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.

The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.

"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"

Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful. 

"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."

"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."

Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."

"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."

"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.

It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.

Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger. 

Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected. 

If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.

It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.

In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples. 

Oh shit, not again.

Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.

It was just impossible to resist.

"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."

Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him. 

A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.

"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"

To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub. 

'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'

The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more. 

But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.

Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.

Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'. 

You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked? 

A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in. 

"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"

"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."

Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"

Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."

This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."

Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.

Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.

"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."

With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.

As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?

"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands. 

Another blonde, huh? 

Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.

"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."

"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."

Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."

"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.

"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.

"No no no, you don't have to!"

"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)" 

His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.

In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.

"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"

"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."

"Good."

As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."

"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."

The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla. 

"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."

"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."

Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."

"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."

An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"

"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."

"Is he a good boss?"

"Yes, he is."

Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."

Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"

"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."

With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.

Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.

Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.

"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.

"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."

"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."

Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.

"Why did you send Jean with me?"

"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.

The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."

With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."

It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.

"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"

"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."

Another disappointment.

"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber. 

"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."

"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.

What the hell were you doing? 

When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."

Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.

"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?

"You tell me, Babydoll." 

"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?" 

When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."

You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.

There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.

Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.

Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[cryptidghostgirl]

Ritornello (Alastor x Cursed!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 3,565

Previous Part: Rhapsody

Next Part: Rapture

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Okay I know that canonically Charlie is like 200 but we're gonna make her 25.

After everything with Alastor, Y/n tried to continued their life as it had been before he'd stepped into. It was challenging, they faltered and misstepped. They had been good at being on their own once but now that they had a taste of the alternative, it was difficult to fall back into their old ways. Eventually, they managed to fall into a new pattern of being.

They were a bit more careful now, they didn't dash out unannounced from behind corners or secret hiding places. Seeing Alastor was the last thing they wanted to do. Now, they had someone to avoid.

For seventeen years, they continued on like this. They struggled through their battles on their own, against the overlords and against their own personal situation. They searched high and low for a cure but the only things they ever seemed able to come up with were false promises and temporary fixes. Every day, the curse the overlords had placed on them to limit their powers was growing stronger. Every time they used their magic, played their music, it became more and more corrupted and so, they learned to fight with their hands. This was until they got the call from Lucifer, of course.

The pair were old friends of a sort. Y/n had met him by chance within their first few days in Hell when he'd pulled them out of a tight spot. They didn't spend time together ever or really see one another at all but, Y/n had a vague sort of trust for the man, a strong sense of a debt needing to be repaid. Y/n didn't like owing people things, not even back when they were alive. They didn't like depending on people in that way. When he asked them if they could keep an eye on his daughter, they couldn't refuse.

Charlie was a lot. At twelve years old, she was bright and over the top and constantly bursting out into song. At first, Y/n had been rather uncertain about the whole arrangement, even when she'd gone through her emo phase at fifteen.

Y/n tried to steer clear of them for the most part. Picking her up from school, dropping her off. Babysitting when her parents needed a night to themselves, the normal stuff. When the issues started between Lilith and Lucifer, Charlie was suddenly thrust into Y/n's life a lot more. She had no idea the real reason, both her parents wanting to keep the trouble from her due to their own care and protective natures, and Y/n tried their best to keep it that way. It didn't help that by sixteen, Charlie had practically moved in with the demon but they managed.

Charlie had always pushed for a connection, something more than Y/n making her dinner and getting her where she needed to go. Y/n resisted at all costs. They'd been hurt before by trust, by care. The idea of going through it all again was terrifying. That all changed the day Charlie found out about the curse.

Y/n hadn't meant for her to find out. One of their situation's many many downsides was that while the curse ate away at their magic, it also ate away at their physical form. If they weren't careful, if they didn't temper their emotions and make sure they were eating enough raw meat, the beast would take over.

The beast was a horrific thing in their eyes, blood hungry and devastating. It was sub-human, sub-demon even, writhing and scornful. A mass of twisting shells of prey, a mass of claws and sharp teeth.

Of course, Y/n couldn't keep it from Charlie forever and on one fateful evening, Y/n had transformed. They'd been overworked, stressed about the fact that the Vees were gaining more territory and power, that soon they would be practically untouchable. They had forgotten to take care of themselves in the rush of it all, prioritizing Charlie and their plans.

When they had come back to their senses, come back to themself, it had been to the sight of Charlie. With a damp rag held to their forehead by the demoness and a whole lot of bones from victims of their situation on the floor around them, they had opened their eyes. Y/n had expected Charlie to flinch, to run in fear, to tell Lucifer who knew nothing about the curse. Instead, she had smiled brightly and told Y/n she was glad they were okay. From that day forward, they were absolutely inseparable, completely attached at the hip.

With Charlie's help and cheerful influence, Y/n was beginning to learn how to exist. They loved the girl like she was their own and Charlie knew if she ever had an issue of any sort, she could go to Y/n about it. Even when Y/n had relayed the story of how they'd been cursed and why, there had been no issues, no qualms, nothing. Charlie promised her watcher that she would help them break the curse, no matter what it took.

It was watching Charlie come into herself as a young adult, watching her meet and fall in love with Vaggie that made the real difference. The princess of Hell was unapologetically herself and Vaggie took everything she had to offer with open arms. Slowly but surely, the search for a cure took a back seat as did Y/n's goal of taking down the overlords of Hell. Their life was different, but they were happy. They found themself wishing for the past, the one they had shared with Alastor, less and less, channeling their energy into the world around them. They didn't even notice when the reports started to come in that the Radio Demon of the overlords had seemingly vanished.

Things hadn't been without their challenges. Charlie's relationship with her dad was strained to say the least and when her mom had disappeared? She'd been absolutely inconsolable but with one another's help, they figured things out, made it through.

When Charlie pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel, Y/n had been doubtful. They knew a lot about Hell, the way it functioned, the way the demons within were. It came from decades running around back streets and surviving in the underworld of the underworld. It was Charlie's hope that did it, her earnest gaze. Y/n had caved and after months of hard work, the Hotel had finally opened.

Things were going well, too well even. Then there had been the interview with Katie Killjoy, the other shoe dropping. Y/n had watched it from the sidelines with Vaggie. As soon as Charlie had come down off the set, they had enveloped her in their arms and held them close. With Vaggie's help, they managed to get Charlie back to the hotel.

Once she had calmed down a little bit, Charlie stood from where she had been seated in the sitting room beside Y/n, Vaggie, and the hotel's one resident: Angel Dust. She mentioned something about calling her mom before disappearing into the lobby.

Y/n and Vaggie exchanged a look. They both knew the situation Charlie was in with regards to her mother and how she tended to get after one of her failed attempts to contact the woman. Neither thought this was the time or the place to step in however, and remained seated, chatting idly with Angel as they waited for Charlie's return.

When she finally did, it was with a nervous attitude and a strained expression.

"Hey Vaggie?"

"What?" Vaggie asked as she and Y/n twisted to look at Charlie who stood in the door way behind the couch.

"Can you come help me please?"

Vaggie got to her feet and exited the sitting room with her girlfriend. Y/n turned to Angel to continue their conversation but had barley gotten a word to the spider demon out when Vaggie stepped back in the room.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" Y/n replied calmly.

"Charlie actually needs our help with this one, I think."

"Alright then." Y/n got to their feet, shooting a glance back at Angel, "A true hotelier's work is never done." they lightly joked and Angel rolled his eyes.

"What's this about?" Y/n asked Vaggie as they followed her down the hall towards the hotel's main entrance.

"Just..." Vaggie sighed, "you'll see."

Noting the girl's odd behavior and stressed demeanor, Y/n steeled themselves. Not much put Vaggie on edge. She was strong, toughened, as far as Y/n knew, by a brutal upbringing in the streets of Hell. While each use of their powers made the curse grow stronger, they would not hesitate to protect Charlie or her dreams should the need arise. Besides, they'd become quite good at other means of self preservation over the years.

As they rounded the corner into the lobby space, Y/n was greeted by a flash of red as someone pushed past Charlie into the space from the street and a familiar voice.

"Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929. So many orphans."

Y/n let out a low growl, summoning their lute into their hands and Vaggie pointed her spear at the Radio Demon. It was pure instinct. If they knew anyone, they knew Alastor and redemption was not the Radio Demon's cup of tea. As Charlie shut the door, he turned to face them. Y/n walked a few steps forward, planting their feet a little ways away from Alastor and poising their fingers to play.

"Get out of here." They said through gritted teeth.

Alastor's eyes widened with recognition for the smallest moment. As quick as he had lost it, he regained his composure.

"My what a protective force this Hazbin Hotel has." Alastor mused.

"It's called the Happy Hotel actually?" Charlie hesitantly corrected and he laughed.

"Not anymore its not. I did you the favor of fixing your sign."

A little threat couldn't hurt, a little reminder of who he was dealing with. Alastor had no idea Y/n was any less capable than when he'd first met them. One little note couldn't hurt, wouldn't show any of the damage done. Y/n plucked a single string on their instrument and the room around them began to glow. Everyone's hair lifted around their faces, the loose edges of their clothes beginning to flutter.

"Get out of here now. I wont ask you again."

"Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Alastor replied, smirking.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. There was something different about him. Y/n couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was, but they could tell he hadn't been lying. He'd been at the Hotel for at least five minutes by now, maybe more with all Charlie and Vaggie's running back and forth since his arrival. If he had had any truly negative intentions, they would have revealed themselves, especially to Y/n. Alastor was a good liar, but no one was that good, good enough to trick someone who had watched them become the person they are.

"Old friend?" Vaggie repeated, turning to Y/n in confusion.

Their grimace faltered, before falling completely. They released their instrument, letting it hang loosely in their hand by their side.

"Alastor! You're embarrassing me in front of my kid."

"Your kid?" Alastor asked after a moment.

This time the shocked expression that crept its way onto his face stayed there.

"You know him?" Charlie asked at the same moment as Alastor spoke.

Y/n let their instrument dissolve into the air and gestured to Charlie.

"My kid. And yes, Charlie. I know Alastor."

Alastor turned, looking Charlie up and down.

"You got with Lucifer?" Alastor asked in confusion as he looked back at Y/n.

They laughed lightly at the notion, unable to stop themselves. They shook their head.

"No. Oh my gosh, I would never. Seriously just... great guy and all but no thank you. I just take care of his kid for him. Well, used to. We sorta got attached."

Charlie walked up to Y/n as they spoke, pulling them into a side hug.

"Y/n practically raised me. They were kinda the only one who was always there for me."

Y/n looked down at Charlie with a fond smile. They ruffled her hair and Charlie quickly batted their hand away.

It was clear to Alastor that Y/n had changed. They were no longer the trouble making demon he had known, that he had loved. Still, there was that same spark in their eyes, that fervent desire, that want. From just the small interaction playing out before him, he could tell that Y/n had learned how to trust and protect rather than just fight. They had learned to live hand in hand with that creeping need woven so tightly around their bones, rather than despite it.

It made him happy to see, it made him happy for her. At the same time, it caused his heart to ache terribly. They had finally been able to let someone in, and it hadn't been him.

In the years since their separation, Alastor had never stopped thinking about Y/n. Their memory was tender to the touch, shot sparks of joy or anguish down him depending on the day. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed right. Seeing them now was unexpected. The wound reopened. He sheltered himself.

Y/n saw the way Vaggie still had her spear pointed at Alastor, aimed straight at his neck. Gently, they placed a hand on it, pushing it down. Vaggie looked at them, her eyebrows raised.

"If he wanted to hurt anyone here, he would have done so already."

Vaggie stared at Y/n for a moment. Seeing how serious the demon that had become a mentor to her was in this moment, she lowered her blade. Y/n's hand fell back to their side.

"Now," Y/n turned to look at Alastor once again, "why are you here?"

----

It was late. Vaggie had told Y/n that Charlie wanted to speak to them about something in their office and so, Y/n found themselves outside the familiar door. They knocked once on the dark red wood.

"Yeah?"

They opened the door and Charlie smiled.

"What'd you wanna talk to me about, Sunshine?" Y/n asked as they entered the room, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from their young charge.

"Just about Alastor."

They should have known. Not only was the hotel at a potential risk thanks to the decision to allow him to work with them but Charlie had always had a sharp sense of curiosity. Y/n sighed.

"Fire away, kiddo."

"Well, how do you two know one another? Can we trust him? Do you think he means what he says he does? I thought you hated overlords? I.. I..."

Y/n smiled softly, the change in their face easing Charlie's nervous temper.

"We will handle these one at a time, no prying. Deal?"

"Y/n, you realize how suspicious that makes you sound, right?"

"Fine. A little prying. Deal?"

"Deal."

Y/n leaned back in their chair, letting out a sigh of nostalgia. Their hands rested on their stomach as they kicked their feet up onto Charlie's desk.

"I... I met Alastor practically right after he arrived. We both thought the overlord system was dumb and so, we decided to team up."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Charlie. The young demoness had always loved Y/n's stories, begged to hear them. They had never once heard this one before.

"Is that all?"

Y/n shook their head.

"We dated."

"You dated!" Charlie exclaimed in shock, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You dated the Radio Demon. Were you in love?"

Of course she'd go on and ask that next. Not 'how'd that happen?' not 'when was this?' No, Charlie had to go for the hardest question first, like she always did.

"Yes." Y/n hesitantly replied, "I did."

"I... oh my god. This is actually crazy. You dated? You actually dated. Like for real, in love, dated."

"Alright." Y/n clapped their hands, taking their feet off the desk and righting themselves in their chair, "Next question."

"Bu-"

"I said some prying."

"Fine." Charlie sighed, crossing her arms, "But I am gonna get that story out of you eventually."

"I'm sure you will, sunshine." Y/n chuckled lightly, "Now. Can we trust him? I... I'm not sure."

All the excitement vanished from Charlie as she looked seriously over at Y/n.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because, he's up to something but not with us. Or, if it is with us, it's not to hurt us. I... something happened to him, something is different. I am not sure what I just... he's not here to hurt us... I think..."

"You think?" Charlie repeated indignantly, "Can you be a little more sure of that maybe? Why only think?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, Charls. Maybe being an overlord is what changed him. I have no way of knowing but my gut tells me he's okay, at least for now."

"You knew him before he became an overlord?"

"You really think I would team up with one of those bitches? Come on. You know I hate them."

"I-"

"Next question." Y/n quickly interrupted, not wanting to think on the past anymore than was necessary, "I think he does mean what he says, as was implied in whether or not I trusted him but the same caveats that applied there apply here too. And I do hate overlords, I just..."

"You just love him." Charlie teased.

Y/n's cheeks grew hot. They looked away.

"I do not. I loved him. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why did you guys break up?"

Y/n turned back to Charlie. They couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Well, he became an overlord. Also I maybe... never told him. About the curse. He could tell something was up and..." Y/n took a breath, "couldn't take it after a while I guess."

"So you guys still loved each other when you broke up."

"What are you scheming over there."

"Nothing! Nothing!" Charlie quickly replied as she not so discreetly scribbled something on a piece of paper, "How long were you together?"

Y/n placed their hands on the arms of the chair, pulling themselves to their feet.

"Alright, trouble maker, I think thats enough lore outta me tonight."

"But Y/n!"

"I'm gonna go to bed. Vaggie already headed upstairs for the night I think. Sweet dreams, princess."

"Good night Y/n." Charlie dejectedly replied as she realized she really wasn't going to be getting anything else out of her mentor that night.

"Good night."

Y/n was about half way through the Hotel back to their room when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Reacting purely out of instinct, they ducked out from under the person's grip, spinning around with their fists raised. Alastor smiled down at Y/n and they sighed.

"What is it?" they asked, straightening up.

He had expected Y/n to be angry, to have that familiar sharp edge behind their voice. Instead, they looked up at him. As if everything was normal, as if it hadn't been thirty years since they'd last seen one another, as if they had just been together yesterday, their eyes met his.

"I... it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too." they replied after a moment's thought, "What are you doing up this late?"

"You know me, sleep is not my preferred way to pass time."

"I meant what are you doing in the hall, but sure. Yeah, I know you."

"That darling Charlie asked to see me."

Y/n scoffed, shaking their head with a tired smile.

"Of course she'd... yeah."

They stood in the hall facing one another. Just a few feet apart. The silence was thick.

"You seem happy."

"I am." Y/n nodded, "Charlie is a great kid. I was pissed when Lucifer first asked me to look after her, I'll admit it but, she has grown on me."

"I didn't know you were acquainted with the big man. I thought you despised all authority figures."

Y/n looked critically at Alastor, over his whole being. He felt they were looking into his very soul, the heart of all his intentions and desires. He felt absolutely naked in the worst way under their gaze.

"No, just overlords. Especially ones who make deals for the souls of others. It's a stupid and outdated system. Even the best of them like Rosie abuse their power to get what they want."

It was a well sharpened arrow, the remark. Perfectly aimed. Alastor had, after all, introduced the small group inhabiting the hotel to Husk and Nifty just that afternoon. Y/n turned their back to Alastor.

"She has big dreams and the passion to see them through. I believe in her. Don't... don't fuck this up for her, Alastor."

----

Next Part -> Rapture

@moonmark98 @luzzbuzz @snowlotr @randomuser-89 @fakeguysarehot @xdolls-crownx

[myers-meadow]

Hellish beginnings

Pairing: Haarlep x Raphael, budding Raphael x Tav and Haarlep x Tav

Summary: After you paid the House of Hope a visit, you were gone before the master of the house even knew you were there. Yet, you left his personal incubus Haarlep with a delightful present that they just can't wait to share with their master. Perhaps this is not the last time you entered the House of Hope.

Warnings: none. Teen and up rating. They/them used for Tav, no appearance mentioned.

Wordcount: 578

beautiful divider by @cafekitsune. If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! It is fuel to the fire that is my love for these characters <3.

"Oh, Raphael," Said Haarlep, in sing-song tone, as soon as their master entered his boudoir. "You'd never guess which of your clients paid me a visit today."

Raphael shed his mortal disguise as he walked over to the bed. By his walk, Haarlep could tell how their master's day had been. Not that good. Not that it mattered much to them, but it was good to know.

"I'm not in the mood to guess," Raphael answered, voice thick with displeasure.

"Only your most cherished one..." They said, and their form shifted. Raphael's little mouse laid on his bed then, draped casually, erotically over the ruby sheets. Raphael, who only barely paid attention to his personal incubus, did a double take. His eyes widened. For one joyful moment, he didn't know what to say. Haarlep's grin widened.

"Really?" He then asked, with one eyebrow raised. "Tav." His tone darkened. It was difficult to tell whether he was angry, or intrigued. You very well know that entering the House was forbidden as per your contract, the consequences could be devastating. He'd so hate to have to hurt you, just as you show such promise. "That is quite the surprise."

Haarlep adjusted their position, showing off your features in a different way this time. Giddy, they tugged alluringly at the straps of their underwear. Raphael, drawn in by the sight of you, climbed onto the bed. Haarlep was quick to make room for him.

"You like it?" They asked, rolling over and showing off your backside, curving your back like a cat doing a big lazy stretch. Raphael only hummed, but watched with eager eyes.

"I cant say I haven't thought about them..."

"They were so fun," Haarlep drawled. "Desperate and mewling after just a few kisses. Too bad you weren't there."

"I wonder why they came. If they thought they could break the contract-" Raphael clenched his fists.

"Oh, not to worry, they left without even getting that far. They just had a little gander at your archive, a little poke around the place. I'm sure this is their favourite room of the house. They spent the most time here, after all."

Haarlep changed shape again, into Raphael's glamour, determined to smooth over their master's anger. They laid a warm hand on his hip, trailing fingers up and down the formal doublet. With a flick of the hand, the doublet was gone. Hunger shone in Raphael's eyes, and Haarlep knew just a little convincing would be enough. It would be fun, to have a play with someone else for a bit. To have a third in the bedroom. They were curious to see what would happen. It was one of Raphael's known weaknesses that he got too involved in mortal lives, but this one seemed special.

"Surely it doesn't have to be such a big deal... They didn't do anything bad, after all."

Raphael tutted, finding comfort in the familiar touch. He played with the chains on Haarlep's outfit, tugging the incubus closer. "Perhaps we should invite them for a formal visit. Let us see if we can't talk this over."

Haarlep answered with a wicked grin. "They admitted they have thought of you too. I'm sure they'd be willing to... negotiate."

With his head falling back on the pillow as Haarlep pushed him on his back, Raphael laughed. "Oh, the plot thickens... Why don't you show me what it was about you that had our little mouse mewling, hm?"

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she made Azriel lose control

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, smut or at least my attempt at it lol

summary: Valeria is sparring with Cassian and Azriel when Rhysand invites her to the gathering of the High Lords of Prythian. The night is tortorous for Azriel, who can no longer hold himself back and finally gives in to his desire.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. This is my first time writing smut, which is why this took me forever to write. I even readchapter 55 of ACOMAF a couple of times again for "research purposes" lol Anyway, besides the smut, lots of stuff happen in this imagine and more ACOTAR characters make an appearance!

**

Valeria sat atop one of the training rings at the House of Wind as Noctis soared gracefully above her. In the brilliant sunlight, his dark wings glistened–a testament to his swift and powerful recovery. A radiant smile grazed her face, finding joy to see him whole and soaring once more.  

She hummed a familiar melody and Noctis was quick to catch the tune. His hauntingly beautiful song intertwined with hers. Setting aside the book Cassian had gifted her on Illyrian fighting techniques, Valeria perked up at the sound of wings beating the air.

It had been nearly half a year since the blood rite and Rhysand’s grand ball and so much had changed in that time. The news of two bastards and a half breed ascending to the title of Carynthian had sent shockwaves throughout Illyria, and perhaps even throughout most of Prythian. The revelation that both Cassian and Azriel were gifted with seven siphons each only added to the astonishment. Rhysand, too, had been gifted with siphons, though they had shattered, unable to contain his immense power.

Shortly after the grand ball, Cassian had returned to the Illyrian camp he was born, eager to reunite with his mother. Their separation had weighed heavily on his heart over the years and he had been looking forward to seeing her and taking care of her. However, when he arrived at the camp, he was met with devastating news. His mother was dead. The news had hit him like a physical blow and even more so when he found out the true nature of her death and lack of respect in burial. It left him reeling with an overwhelming grief and sorrow that morphed into anger and a thirst of revenge. With the help of Rhysand and Azriel, they took revenge on his mother’s cruel death and destroyed the village, allowing only the truly innocent to live. 

The High Lord of the Night Court did not take lightly to the actions of the three powerful Illyrian males. Valeria suspected that the remarkable power the three males held posed a potential threat to her father. In the weeks that followed, the High Lord assigned Rhysand a growing number of responsibilities as his designated heir. He offered Azriel the role of spymaster–a proposition that didn’t leave him with much room for refusal. Cassian, on the other hand, had returned to Windhaven, and swiftly climbed the ranks, now commanding a small legion of his own.

With all the changes and increased duties, it came to a surprise to Valeria that Cassian remembered the promise he had made prior to the blood rite. She had diligently studied the book he had gifted her, mastering nearly every technique within its pages. She still did so behind her father’s back. It was not an easy task as he hovered over her for the first couple of weeks after her return to the Night Court. This made it challenging to discreetly train with the Valkyries as she enjoyed doing so. 

So Valeria dedicated herself to playing the role of a dutiful daughter with the hopes that it would divert her father’s attention from her training and secrets she held. It was a difficult one as he still held resentment toward her. She immersed herself in music, spending countless hours practicing her violin despite her preference for the piano. It paid off, as her father’s interest in her began to wane and as she resumed her violin lessons, she found it increasingly easier to slip away for her secret training sessions.

“Alright, little warrior.” Cassian grinned as he touched down in front of her, his wings tucked behind him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Valeria smiled back at him, her eyes searching his face. She knew the past couple of months had been challenging for him yet he always managed a smile and optimistic attitude, masking the underlying sadness and grief he carried. He was one of the strongest people she knew–both physically and mentally.

“I didn’t get to train last week since I had an audition for a violin solo, so I’m a little rusty.” Valeria confessed as she patted the dust off her leathers.

“Did you get it?”

A spark of triumph gleamed in her eyes as she replied. “Of course I did.” 

Cassian’s grin grew wider. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to push you harder this morning.”

The training grounds were bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun as Cassian and Valeria stepped onto the training ring. She looked up to him with determination in her eyes and Cassian respected her spirit as he began to wrap his hands. “Let’s practice without weapons first and focus on hand to hand combat which is about…”

“Control, balance and swift strikes.” Valeria answered, reciting an excerpt from the book word for word and wrapping her own hands to prepare for sparring.

“Yes.” Cassian nodded at her, impressed as he stepped into a defensive stance. “Watch me closely and then we’ll practice together.”

He demonstrated a sequence of moves, fluidly shifting from one stand to another, showcasing the elegance and power of combat. Valeria followed his every move, memorizing the steps.

“I know you’ve already had some training with this but let’s start with the basics again. I’m going to make a move and you try to block or evade it.”

Cassian then made the first move, a precise jab toward her shoulder. Valeria reacted quickly, dodging the blow with ease and responding with a counterpunch. Cassian deftly blocked her attack, impressed with her reflexes.

“Good.” Cassian said with another nod of approval. “Keep that focus and speed.”

They continued the training session as Noctis watched, perched on one of the punching dummies nearby, his sharp eyes on his beloved keeper. As always, Cassian was patient in training Valeria. He showed her how to anticipate her opponent’s moves, find openings in their defenses and land precise strikes. Valeria was a quick learner and with each round of practice, her confidence grew.

As they exchanged blows, Valeria saw an opportunity. Her speed and precision was nearly overwhelming, catching the seasoned Illyrian warrior by surprise for a faltering moment. Just when it seemed like Valeria was gaining the upper hand, he intentionally left himself open. Valeria, driven by the thrill of the movement, lunged forward with a powerful punch. Her first met its target but Cassian, with a wly grin, grabbed her arm and twisted, sending her tumbling to the ground.

She landed on her back with a huff, her chest heaving from exertion.

“Never underestimate your opponent.”

Cassian’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked down at her. She was already drenched in sweat, her muscles aching and struggling to catch her breath. He held his hand out toward her which she begrudgingly took. He did not look nearly as winded as her.

 “Now, get up, my little warrior. We’re not done quite yet.”

“Not done?” Valeria echoed in dramatic horror.

Valeria’s senses were thrown into a whirlwind of surprise. Another voice, one she hadn’t heard in weeks, broke through the moment.

“It’s my turn now.”

Valeria’s head whipped around, feeling dizzy for a moment, but her eyes quickly found their way to the hazel ones she had missed so dearly. Azriel. 

He was also dressed in his Illyrian leathers, his cobalt blue siphons casting a soft, enchanting glow. His presence, as always, was a compelling blend of mystery and allure, making her heart flutter. The longing she felt for his company was undeniable.  She hadn’t seen him in weeks as he was preoccupied with the duties her father assigned to him and if it wasn’t the High Lord calling upon him, it was Rhysand, leaving little room for private moments together.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged nods in silent greeting. Azriel then turned to her, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. His eyes raked over her form as his shadows swirled around him in excitement and his large wings unfurled behind him. He looked at her with a mixture of pride, protectiveness and a hint of longing.

She felt like he was undressing her with his eyes.

“Cauldron boil me,” Valeria cursed under her breath.

Cassian chuckled. Azriel maintained his composed demeanor and gaze fixed on her, his smirk remaining unfaltering. He, too, had likely heard her choice of words and judging by the way his shadows whirled around him, he must’ve sensed the hidden meaning behind them.

He finally took his eyes off of her as he approached the weapons vault. “Where are you in your training with the Valkyries?”

Valeria considered the question for a moment before replying, "We've moved on to sparring with actual weapons."

Azriel's hazel eyes lit up with interest as he selected two swords from the vault, flinging one of them toward her. Valeria caught it with ease, though with a slight frown.

She much preferred daintier weapons such as a dagger or her whip. Zeila, her valkyrie trainer, had rewarded her with the elegant rope-like weapon for her remarkable progress. Crafted from pure silver and adorned with moonstone gems, it matched the necklace around her neck. At first glance, it appeared delicate, but when the moonstone gems were ignited by her power, it became a formidable tool capable of burning through those who dared to cross her. Valeria had glamored the whip to resemble a wrap-around bracelet when not in use and it currently shimmered brilliantly under the sunlight.

Azriel and Valeria stood facing each other, a palpable tension filling the air as Cassian sat on a bench nearby and watched. Much to his dismay, Noctis made himself comfortable atop of his head.

Valeria was the first to make a move, moving with a fluidity that was both elegant and powerful. As they sparred, Valeria demonstrated her newfound skills, seamlessly combining the precise strikes of the Valkyries with the fierce, aggressive style of the Illyrians. Azriel observed with growing admiration, impressed by her quick adaptation and her ability to execute the intricate maneuvers. Their swords clashed, the sound ringing through the rooftop, and with a deft flick of his wrist, he managed to disarm Valeria. His experience and training outmatched hers but Valeria was not one to give up easily. 

In a swift and practiced motion, she extended her arm, bringing the rope-like weapon to life. Azriel’s eyes widened for a flickering moment as he readied his sword but Valeria was too fast for him. Within seconds, her whip wrapped around Azriel’s wrist, forcing him to release his sword, the sharp piece of steel clattering to the ground. She grinned triumphantly as Cassian whistled in approval.

Azriel stumbled back, momentarily disarmed, until he saw an opportunity and seized it. He took advantage of the weapon wrapped around his wrist and pulled on it, throwing her off balance, sending Valeria stumbling forward. She was not able to catch her footing on time and both her and Azriel tumbled onto the ground. Azriel swiftly gained the  upper hand, pinning both her wrists by her head as he straddled her.

“I got you.” He smirked down at her.

With a mischievous glint in her violet eyes, Valeria shifted her hips up and wrapped her arms around his torso the best she could. She trapped his legs with her own and mustered up all the strength she could to roll over just as Cassian had taught her. In a sudden and skillful maneuver, she found herself hovering over Azriel, her dagger that had been attached to her thigh now pressed against his neck.

“Never underestimate your opponent.” Valeria said, her voice breathless but triumphant, echoing Cassian’s early words.

Azriel blinked back up at her, his pupils dilated. His gaze flickered down to her lips before locking with her gaze. Blood rushed up to her cheeks as she remembered the last time she had straddled him. It seemed so long ago and just as it had before they shared their first kiss, the world around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them. She dared to lean down–

A boisterous laugh shattered their trance, snapping them back to reality.

Valeria removed herself from Azriel. He was the first to get up, offering his scarred hand to her. His shadows slithered down his arms and toward her, reaching out to caress her face in a way he yearned to himself as he pulled her up with him. They turned to an amused Cassian who offered a round of applause for Valeria.

“I’m so proud of you.” He told her. “Keep it up and you’ll be a Valkyrie in no time.”

Valeria’s heart swelled. “You really think they’d let me in?”

“Of course.” It was Azriel who replied.

She was smiling at the two formidable Illyrian warriors when she felt a gentle talon caress her mind. She allowed her brother in, who wanted to know where she was. Her smile fell and the two males looked at her in concern.

“Rhys is coming,” she said in warning at the same time she gave her brother her location.

With practiced ease, Valeria used her powers to glamor and remove the telltale signs of her recent training session–the sweat-soaked training gear and leathers were replaced with a simple black dress.  Noctis returned to his usual place on her shoulder. She had just enough time to glamor Cassian and Azriel as well to paint out the illusion of them sparring.

Rhysand was still unaware of her extensive training as she had sworn both males to secrecy. While her brother did keep his promise in teaching her how to use the dagger they all gifted her, it was nowhere near enough to explain the advanced skills she had just displayed. 

Azriel glanced down at his shirtless body and arched an eyebrow at her. A devious glint flickered in her eye as she smirked back at him with an appreciative gaze. The tattoos adorning his upper body, a mark of his emergence as a true warrior from the Blood Rite, were a sight to behold. She wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to kiss them as she dangerously trailed her way down…

Cassian seemed to be unfazed by his shirtless form, picking up the sword Valeria had been using, eager to get into character.

Rhysand emerged from a cloud of swirling darkness. He smiled fondly at Valeria in greeting before acknowledging his two closest friends. “I didn’t know you two were sparring today,” he commented, his tone lighthearted.

Cassian responded with a cheeky grin, "Just releasing some pent-up frustration, Rhys." He turned to Azriel, a cryptic look in his eyes, sensing something in the Shadowsinger he was strangely familiar with. "Right, Az?"

Azriel glared at him. "I'm sure Cass still has energy."

Rhysand chose to brush off their strange behavior, not wanting to delve into it further. "It's alright," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm actually here for Val."

Valeria turned to him, her curiosity piqued.

"I need you to be ready by dinner. The High Lords are gathering at the Moonstone Palace for dinner, and Father requests our presence."

Valeria's eyes narrowed as she met her brother's gaze. She had her doubts that it was truly her father who had called for her presence, and judging by Rhysand's cheeky grin, she knew he had played a role in her being allowed to attend. Despite her skepticism, she nodded in agreement.

"I'll be ready."

**

The dinner among the High Lords of Pyrthian, their families and entourage was uneventful save for the mention of growing unrest between the mortals and fae. There were reports of some fae enslaving mortals–a matter that had drawn the attention of the High Lords.

Surprisingly, the High Lord of the Night Court appeared indifferent to Valeria’s presence at the dinner. A small victory.

Though she couldn't shake the feeling of being the odd one out as she was the only daughter to a High Lord present. She was grateful for Rhysand and Azriel, who sat on either side of her as Noctis–her usual companion–had to stay behind. Cerridwen and Nuala offered to take care of him for the night. The two males beside her watched over her, their protective presence enough to deter any unwarranted attention from the other attendees, especially the eldest sons of the Autumn and Spring court. Mor and her family were also present at the dinner, the first offering Valeria a sense of familiarity and warmth, but unfortunately, she sat far from her.

As the dinner came to a close, her mother, who sat across from her, sent Valeria a reassuring smile. With the main meal completed, the guests began to disperse into smaller groups, with alcohol and light desserts served for those who remained. Valeria took a moment to collect herself, her violin resting on a soft chair nearby. She picked it up and positioned it with care, knowing that her presence at the dinner came at a cost – the entertainment she could provide with her violin.

With a sigh, she began to play, the graceful notes of her violin filling the room and carrying a sense of melancholy and beauty. The Night Court’s orchestra arrived, a couple of songs later, providing a welcome respite. She smiled at them in greeting and they regarded her warmly, having grown fond of her over the past six months.

“That was excellent.” A voice praised.

Valeria looked up, eyes widening as they landed on the High Lord of the Dawn Court. Thesan. His aura radiated a warm golden glow, his brown skin and hair kissed with the permanent brilliance of sunrise. 

“You’ve grown into a wonderful young lady.” His gaze was warm as he regarded her. He remembered the last time he had seen her, when she was just six years old.

 Valeria recalled the memory clearly as it had been a slightly embarrassing incident when she had injured herself after chasing Rhysand around. He had snatched the last lemon cake and laughed in her face. Thesan had been the one to heal her injured elbow with a gentle touch while her father glared at her. She wondered if her father had also been embarrassed by her behavior that night as she hadn’t been allowed to attend a High Lord gathering until tonight.

“Thank you.” Valeria replied, her head bowed in appreciation.

“I’m sure your father is proud.” Thesan added, casting a meaningful glance toward her father, who had now joined them.

His gaze, though still somewhat distant, was not as cold as he regarded his daughter.

“She has an upcoming solo in a month.”

Valeria blinked at her father, surprise etched on her features. 

“What a shame,” Thesan lamented, his tone sincere. “I’m hosting a celebration for my Peregryns in a month. I would’ve loved for you to play for them.”

Valeria’s father hummed and she picked up on the hint. She excused herself politely. Though she knew her father’s demeanor was likely a result of Thesan’s presence, she couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of joy at his acknowledgement.

Valeria made her way to the desserts table, savoring the delightful taste of  a chocolate covered strawberry. Her gaze swept the room, searching for her brother amidst the sea of faces.

“Well, aren’t you a lovely little sweet.”

Startled by the sudden presence behind her, she jumped slightly before turning her head to find the source of the voice. Her gaze fell upon a red-haired male, whose amber eyes watched her intently. He held an air of arrogance and entitlement as he extended his hand toward her.

“Would you care to dance?” He inclined his head to his left, where couples where swaying to the music.

“I’m busy.” Valeria replied, referring to the dessert in her hand.

She glared as he plucked the strawberry from her hand and popped the remaining piece into his mouth, all while sporting a smirk that seemed to mock her. He took her hand, without asking again, and led her to the dance floor.

His hand rested dangerously low against her back and was hot as it met her bare skin. The dress she chose tonight was a blue mermaid gown with a plunging neckline and open back design to accommodate her wings but she had chosen to glamor them. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked over her.

Valeria’s lips curled into a smirk of her own. She had seldom experienced the sensation of being desired. The Illyrians in Windhaven had steered clear of her after her fling with Damien–if one could even call it that. The three Illyrian males in her life were fiercely protective, effectively warding off any potential suitors. But here, things were different.

 Though her heart longed for the desire of a specific male, she couldn’t deny the pleasure of feeling desired by others.

At that moment, recognition dawned on Valeria. The devilishly handsome male dancing with her was the eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and if the rumors in Prythian were true, he was in search of a bride.

“You must be Eris.” She said, her tone cool and composed.

The fire in his amber eyes was unyielding as he spun her around. His movements pressed her back against his chest, and he leaned down, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered: “I’m honored you know my name, sweets.”

With a twist, he spun her back around to face him, catching the crinkle of her nose in response to his nickname with a dark chuckle.

“It’s Valeria to you.” She corrected him with a firm tone.

Eris paused, his eyes set ablaze at the challenge, as he teased her further. “Valeria Vanserra has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

In response, Valeria couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. When she opened her mouth to offer another sly retort, another voice beat her to it.

**

The entire night was torture for Azriel.

It all started when he spotted Valeria in a striking dark blue fitted gown that hugged her every curve and exposed so much of her pretty sun kissed skin– Gods, she was beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to trace her curves and exposed skin with his hands while he tasted her pretty lips once more. He almost had this morning after sparring with her.

A warmth surged through him, almost as if he were staking a delusional claim, as he noticed the necklace he gifted her was wrapped sweetly around her neck, the moonstone gem resting right at the curves of her chest.

It had been hard for him to part from her side after dinner. He wanted to be the one to walk with her, dance with her. The desire to take her away and have her to himself was overwhelming but he could not afford to give in to it. He was bound by the High Lord’s orders, hovering around with his shadows dispersed, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. He managed to spare a couple of shadows to accompany Valeria, instructing them to keep a low profile with her and reach out to him immediately if anyone that wasn’t Rhysand or her mother touched her.

 The torture had escalated with each passing moment as he noticed the increasing looks of interest sent her way. He had to summon every ounce of strength to keep his jealousy at bay, especially when he noticed that Valeria had attracted the attention of a red-haired male. Eris, heir to the Autumn court, his shadows happily filled in for him.

He watched with a tensed resolve, concealing the jealousy in his eyes behind the usual fierce and protective mask he wore. His gaze was unwavering as the Autumn Court male held her close, danced with her and when he made her laugh, he decided that was it. He was going to intervene. Perhaps, he would start by ripping the smirk off of Eris’s face. 

**

“Eris.”

Valeria found herself being pulled away and into the chest of another. A protective arm wrapped around her shoulders and she looked up to find her brother–his actions betraying the cool and measured demeanor on his face.

Eris’s smirk widened, picking up on Rhysand’s frustration. “I can see why you keep her hidden now.”

“Stay away from my sister.”

Rhysand’s glare was not enough to communicate his disapproval of Eris’s sudden and unwelcome interest in his sister. He didn’t bother with formalities and without saying another word, he pulled her away from Eris.

Leaning in closer to Valeria, Rhysand spoke in a hushed voice. “I have someone I want you to meet,” he whispered as he guided her through the crowded gathering.

Valeria followed her brother, oblivious to the Shadowsinger that had been moments away from tearing the heir to the Autumn court into pieces. She was curious and somewhat relieved to leave behind the tense encounter with Eris, wondering why the Cauldron had decided to bestow Prythian with its fair share of wicked sons.

But perhaps not all of Prythian’s sons were wicked, she found herself thinking as Rhysand introduced her to a quiet blond male. He appeared around her age. His green eyes were innocent and kind–a dark contrast to his older brothers, who had glared at her during dinner earlier.

His name was Tamlin and a light blush rose to his cheeks as Valeria smiled at him.

**

Finally, in the comforts of her room, Valeria let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back against her door. The night had been a hurricane of emotions from all the interactions she had, some were welcomed and others draining. She had ended her night with Mor, who was finally able to escape from the grasps of her family as Eris and his father approached Keir. Rhysand had to unfortunately leave early. Their father wanted him to check up on a growing conflict between Windhaven and a neighboring camp first thing in the morning so he thought it’d be best if he stayed the night at their house in Windhaven.

Valeria made her way to her vanity, seating herself upon the soft cushion of its bench. She slowly unraveled her bun, allowing her long dark hair to fall into a sea of ebony waves.

She unclasped her earrings next and as she went to unclasp her necklace, her eyes widened with alarm at the figure she caught behind her in the reflection from the vanity’s mirror. She abruptly stood from her seat, her initial shock giving way and gaze softening as she recognized the figure.

“By the cauldron, Azriel, you nearly gave me a heart attack!“

Azriel was behind her within seconds and she caught sight of his heated gaze through the mirror. “My sentiments exactly,” he told her, his fingers brushing the thin strap of her dress. He rejoiced in the way it easily fell from her shoulders. “When I saw you wearing this dress.”

“I wore it for you.” Valeria confessed as heat rose to her cheeks. The blue shade of her dress perfectly matched his siphons.

“Is that so?” He hummed, his gaze not leaving her bare back. 

He knew it was wrong to look at her the way he did. He knew that Rhysand would kill him if he saw the intent in his eyes but he had waited so long–six excruciating months– to finally have Valeria alone again and his shadows screamed at him to seize the opportunity. His hand then lightly grazed her back, tracing along the spot where her wings usually rested. Valeria shivered at his touch.

She turned around to face him and their eyes met, unspoken words between them as tension filled the air. Tension that had sparked between them since their first kiss. Tension that had lingered, waiting for the right kindling to ignite it once more. Tension that was set alight by their sparring this morning, further fueled by the exchanged glances during dinner. Tension that was no longer possible to ignore.

And then their lips were desperately crashing into each other in an ardent kiss.

They pulled each other close until their bodies were flush against one another, his shadows enveloping around the both of them. With Valeria’s arms wrapped around his neck, she slid her fingers through his soft dark hair and his slid to her hips, hoisting her up onto her vanity. Her legs instantly wrapped themselves around his waist and she pulled him even closer, feeling him harden against her and eliciting a groan from him that made a heat pool in her stomach.

He broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, his breathing fast and sharp. “Val,” he breathed her name so heavenly, despite the slight tremble in his body. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

She knew she should stop him as they were both walking among a fine line but she couldn’t bring herself to. Not when Azriel was looking at her like she was the one who placed the stars in the sky.

“Good thing,” Valeria began, nudging her nose softly against his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all the confirmation Azriel needed before he picked her up and placed her onto her bed. He was then claiming her lips again, darting his tongue along her bottom lip and she parted her lips for him, groaning into his mouth as his tongue caressed hers.

Azriel broke from the kiss and pulled on the dress that had left little to the imagination and an insatiable thirst for more. He was filled with a desperate desire to feel all of her against him. She arched into him, allowing him to undo the delicate laces and slide her dress off in one motion. He would’ve ripped it off her, if it hadn’t been one of her mother’s designs. 

His breath hitched as he hovered over her, appreciating her beauty–the sight of her almost bare before him. Her moonstone necklace shimmered and was nestled deliciously right above her exposed breasts. “Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, allowing his shadows to caress her breasts, rejoicing in the way she shivered with pleasure. 

She let out a moan as he lowered his mouth to one of her breasts and sucked on it, his tongue flicking against her nipple while his shadows continued to caress the other.

“Azriel.”

“Tell me,” he murmured against her soft skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to be yours.” She breathed in reply. 

He nearly moaned at her words, rapidly losing his resolve as the scent of her arousal hit him then. She pulled on his leathers, a silent request to take them off. He complied, disposing of his clothing until he was bare before her, his siphons landing on the floor with a thud. His cock sprang free, no longer restrained by his leathers and he took delight in the way her eyes grew wide, taken aback by his considerable length before they trailed their way up to the intricate tattoos on his chest.

Valeria wanted to kiss along his tattoos as she had desired to earlier in the morning but when she moved to sit up, Azriel stopped her. He pinned her back to the bed with a low growl. Her bare skin was so warm against his.

“You’re all mine.” He told her, echoing her wish from just moments ago, and then was grinding his hips against her clothed core in a teasing manner.

His lips trailed down her stomach until he hovered over the place she desperately needed him. He looked up once more at her. Although he told her he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back, he still sought her permission. 

She gave a nod and he smirked at her, a devious glint in his hazel eyes.

“Words.” He teased her, brushing his nose against her core as her arousal flooded him, overwhelming all his senses. His eyes and the shadows around him darkened.  “I need your words.”

“I need you.” 

He tutted, not entirely satisfied. “Need me where?”

“By the cauldron Azriel, I need you to fuck me.” She cried out desperately, her words making his cock throb almost painfully and before he could tease her further, she added: “With your tongue, fingers, cock. Do as you wish, I’m all yours."

“Gods, you have such a dirty mouth on you.” He replied as he slid her underwear off, imagining all the things her dirty mouth was capable of. He hooked her legs to rest on either side of his wings. “Where did you learn such vulgar things?”

Books, she had meant to reply but she was set ablaze and at a loss for words at the first lick of his tongue. A soft whimper escaped from her and he unleashed himself, eagerly devouring her and drawing out more moans that were like music to his ears. Her fingers found themselves entangled in his hair again and she writhed beneath him. Azriel placed a firm grip on her hips, smirking against her as her thighs trembled against him. He could tell she was close. 

Wanting nothing more than to hear her lose herself completely to him, he slid his tongue into her and allowed his shadows to caress her everywhere, wanting to touch every inch of her skin and discover her most sensitive areas. Her breasts, her neck, her clit. 

“Azriel.”

Another low growl erupted from deep in his chest at the way she moaned his name. It was lovely and it felt so right.

“Come on, princess.” He purred, pressing a kiss to her clit before kissing his way up her thigh. He replaced his tongue with his finger, slowly easing his way with one until eventually, he was pumping three inside her. He left trails of her essence all over her body as he continued to make his way up. “Let go for me.”

Azriel’s lips were pressed against her neck when the heat pooled in her stomach tightened and then her core was pulsing around his fingers as she came, waves of pleasure flooding all of her senses. He pulled away from her neck, watching as her body arched into his and trembled with a soft glow. 

Azriel had never beheld anything more exquisite than this–than her coming apart under his touch. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, engraving the sweet image into his mind. An image that he would savor for centuries.

A finger traced over the sensitive curve of his wing, pulling him out of his trance and it was his turn to moan her name. He felt her other hand on his cheek and he leaned in to it, savoring her touch. He allowed her to take control for a moment as she guided his lips to hers. She could taste herself on his lips.

Another whimper escaped from him, his eyes fluttering close when he felt her finger brush the curve of his wing again. Her movements were agonizingly slow as she trailed her finger down and his breath hitched as they brushed against his hard length before wrapping themselves around it. He placed his hand over hers before she could continue. She had barely touch him but he could feel his release quickening already.

When he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown, their darkness honing in on her. A darkness she wanted to dive further into. “Please.” Valeria begged against his lips. 

His forehead rested against hers and his breath fanned her face. He knew what she was asking for but there would be no going back from this. He wanted to make sure that she still wanted this, still wanted him.

“Are you sure?” He pulled away from her lips to allow her to answer, leaning his cheek against her hand once more, his eyes looking straight into hers.

“Yes.” Her voice was so sure as she held his gaze. It caused something in his chest to rise and flutter madly. “I want you to be my first.”

Overwhelmed by the surge of emotions, he found himself unable to suppress his feelings. Yes, he desired her, but it went beyond physical attraction. He yearned for more than just her body. He desperately and selfishly wanted her heart too.

“I don’t just want to be your first.” He told her, pressing a soft kiss into the palm of her hand. “I want to be the only one.”

“Yes, yes.” She nodded her head at him and though her eyes were clouded with lust, she genuinely meant it. She yearned to be his and his only. Heart and soul. “You’re all I can think about.”

“Gods, you’ll be my ruin.” He uttered a sigh as he fisted his cock. He rubbed his length along her entrance, coating it with her arousal before sliding the tip in.

Valeria let out a gasp as he slowly pushed himself further. His hands found hers, intertwining their fingers together and resting them on either side of her head. He sweetly kissed the tears from her eyes and stilled inside her, allowing her to adjust to his size. Blood pounded through his body, his heart surging with fervor as she felt so heavenly wrapped around him tightly. 

He’d imagined this moment before, on nights where his thoughts were consumed with her. He’d imagine what noises she’d make, what she’d feel like, how she’d beg for him. To finally have her like this, it surpassed his wildest dreams. 

And when she was begging for him to move, he happily obliged. 

“You’re taking me so well.” He praised as he thrusted into her, slow and hard, all the way until his hips were flushed against hers. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

  His thrusts grew quicker and harder, his shadows frenzied around him as he continued to draw out her pleasure. She was a sobbing mess beneath him. When he felt her pulsing around him, he sent a shadow to rub against her clit while his lips claimed hers. She moaned lewdly into his mouth.

His pace picked up, pounding into her mercilessly as their scents merged as one. His grip on her hands tightened as his hips stuttered into her. She tilted her head back, their kiss now all tongue and barely lips as she tightened around him.

Release tore through their bodies and when their eyes met, they were a beautiful and panting mess.

Through the window, the moon's soft embrace casted a gentle glow, illuminating her face as his shadows lingered behind him, admiring her beauty. She was the radiant light, and he, the comforting darkness. They existed in an unspoken unity.

She held his heart, and he, unreservedly, belonged to her.

***

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

a/n: I was inspired by a comment @kemillyfreitas made on one of the imagines and decided that if her father won't show her love, at least Thesan will. I have a soft spot for the high lord of dawn <3

I contemplated so much about this moment between Az and Val because it was definitely going to happen. It was just a matter of when. I wanted to save it for the actual storyline but ultimately, thought it was best for it to happen much sooner. They are aware that there's something special between them (Az more so than Val) but instead of letting words/reason guide them, they're being guided by their feelings and desire. also, if things are unclear or you would like clarification on some things, feel free to ask. I'll answer them happily!

songs I listened to while writing this on repeat: kingdom fall by claire wyndham, i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys if you couldn't tell by the dialogue lol, feels like by gracia abrahams. I did make a playlist for songs I listen to while I write. I want to incorporate some of the lyrics into the imagines.

[mesywelch]

Don't Cry, Baby | College AU | Chapter 2

Paring: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: Growing up in a sheltered family, safe and secure amongst people you could trust was, according to you, heaven, despite how some tend to doubt its consequences. But you did not expect your safe bubble to pop so suddenly when you entered college - the atmosphere so dazzlingly stark, that it was proving to be a difficult challenge to navigate around. Especially when one of the students gets painfully curious about the new girl.

Warnings: Talks about sex, swearing, drugs, possible smut. slowburn (ig ???) Song rec: Pacify Her - Melanie Martinez Chapter 1, Chapter 2

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"You'll be okay if I leave you for a bit, yeah? Little princess won't get too scared?" 

"No." 

I had given up on my attempts to get Rafe to quit his tone a long time ago, bitterly realising that there was no point. Rafe knew that too, and so I had to face his smirk one more time before he entered the house, almost immediately disappearing into the packed crowd that I could only get a gist of through the french windows. A second later, a wave of cheers erupted from inside, and I imagined Rafe standing at the centre of it, playing the party like it was his personal guitar. 

His stubbornness was truly a force to be reckoned with, and glad I didn't have to experience it again till the end of the night, I, too, pushed open the door and joined the masses. 

Ruby didn't live in the college dormitories like most of us, but I didn't expect her abode to be, well, practically a mansion. The three-story building sat in a prime location right beside a beautiful view of the beach, and I seriously debated just strolling by the pretty shores after finding out that this was not the kind of party I assumed it to be. Credit for that idea can be given to the stench of alcohol suffocating the atmosphere and the dress-code-breaking outfits people were wearing. Or, more accurately, not wearing. Men were shirtless, women were barely covered by tiny pieces of cloth, and my cheeks were blazing hot upon being forced to witness such a mass display of skin. 

I was somewhat grateful that Rafe had convinced me to drop the blue frock in favour of the one currently hanging on my body because I would have looked like a literal child if I hadn't already. Perhaps he knew how intense the party was going to be, and this was his way of giving a heads-up. 

As I walked tentatively, my hands held a small gift bag, an even smaller box resting inside it, covered with gorgeous wrapping paper and topped with a perfect bow- technique I had mastered through years of gifting experience with friends. I also got to use my calligraphy skills; stapled to the bag was a little note card containing handwritten birthday wishes carefully written in ink. 

Back in his truck, Rafe had stared and scoffed when he noticed me hugging the bag close to my chest as we drove, throwing one of his comments that I didn't bother remembering. But I didn't let it deter me. Who doesn't appreciate a well-wrapped gift? 

My excitement was boundless when the necklace had arrived last night in all its intricate glory. Just in time, too. There weren't any good jewellery stores on the island, so instead, I rang up my mum to buy one back at home from a trusted store I regularly visited. As I walked deeper into the fiesta, I was giddy hoping Ruby would like what I chose for her. 

But she was nowhere to be seen. 

Music boomed from the speakers set up in one corner of the house, but the way it echoed created the impression of it hitting me from all directions. Chatter and conversation accompanied the explicit songs, and I noticed a group of people on the far right dancing to the catchy beats. Finding a cosy position against a wall near the kitchen, I watched them move mindlessly with a hint of a smile despite being slightly dizzy by the sensory overload. The yellow lighting was beautiful, though, and reminded me of home, a place I missed more and more with time. 

As I bobbed my head subtly to the pop music in the background (more like foreground), quickly looking away when a couple on the dance floor got a little too handsy, my gaze settled on a weird sight. Between the shadowy, sweaty crowds, a pair of girls stood, their mouths moving obnoxiously as if whisper-shouting to each other. I didn't pay them much mind. But then their gazes—so intense, they felt piercing—landed on me, and I tensed. 

They got closer. 

Pivoting to my right, I tried to change positions, but a guy with a muscular build bumped into me, and I recoiled, clutching my shoulder in pain- the same one Rafe's fingers had dug into. 

"Ow…" 

"Hey, you! You okay?" It was the tallest of the two girls, now merely a couple feet away from me. I nodded hesitantly, looking between their faces. The other girl smiled and reached out to take my hand, but I resisted. "We're not gonna hurt you, bunny." 

Bunny? My eyebrows furrowed. Was that the impression I gave to people? A pathetic, stupid, little animal that runs away as soon as you approach it? Well… that was exactly what I was about to do….

"I'm Jenny Marlow," said the tall one, tightening her long bleach-blonde ponytail. Jenny had a very sharp-edged look to her—angular jaw, deep-set eyes, pointy eyebrows—and I got the feeling that she didn't really like me. Gesturing to the brunette beside her, she then introduced. "This is Margo. We're Ruby's close friends." 

I returned my name. 

"Ooo pretty," Said Margo, but Jenny didn't comment, still staring straight at me. It was not a comfortable feeling, being subject to her cold gaze, something I couldn't help but compare to Rafe's. At least his had life behind them. 

I still hadn't understood their intentions, so remained quiet; a good enough hint, I hoped, for them to reveal them. 

"You looked lonely." Jenny stated blankly, "So we wanted to invite you back to our table." 

I was about to reject the offer, but then she mentioned that Ruby will be joining them soon. 

"Where is she, by the way?" Margo asked Jenny, taking the words right out of my mouth. 

"Still getting ready upstairs. Go fetch her; I'll take the little bunny over here to the others." Oh, so the nickname's gonna stick. Wonderful. 

"But—" 

Jenny glared at her. 

"Fine."  

"Let's go." Jenny grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards her as she began walking, confidently striding through the masses, the clicking of her heels audible despite the noise. Her grip was tight—fingers sure to bruise my skin—and her pull was demanding, to the level that I found it hard to stop tripping over nothing. At one point, my gift bag dropped onto the floor, and I bent over to pick it up, tugging at Jenny's hand to signal a stop. 

She turned around, her eyebrows knitted with distasteful animosity, and when I stood back straight, I couldn't help but ask nervously, "Why are you being so harsh?" 

"You brought her a gift?" She said instead, sneering at the sparkly bag and ignoring my question. She chuckled. "Did you get her a pack of crayons? How cute. You do know she can afford everything, right?" 

For a second, I really believed everyone in this place was living in a different universe. In the bag was a birthday gift– what was so wrong with a birthday gift?! Should I have just shown up with nothing?! 

"Look at this, guys." Jenny snatched the bag from my hands when we reached a couch, large and semi-circle in shape, jiggling it mockingly away from my grasp. Bottles of alcohol littered the table in front of it—some half-filled, most empty—and food was messily strewn about. At least six people were lounging around it, and, drawn to Jenny's voice, they paused their conversation to scrutinise me, their collective gaze a silent judgement. "This girly over here wrapped this little present all by herself— oh, and what does this say?" She spotted the handwritten card, "'Happy Birthday Ruby! Hope you have a great time turning 20'." The pitch of her voice rose, I assumed, to mimic my own. But that wasn't even how I sounded. 

A smattering of weak chuckles erupted from the table, a few aws, and I loathed both. 

The thumping of my heart sped up as a sudden wave of sadness washed over me, aligning itself with the pounding beats of the music. The thought that maybe I indeed was out of place—a bunny amongst- amongst… wolves—was frightening. Nothing had ever made me feel this way before. Back at home, no one would even dare to try. 

A deep voice cut through the atmosphere. Deep and commanding, somewhat soothing to the ear. 

"Leave her alone, Jen." It said, and silence fell. 

Grateful at the intervention, I gave the mystery man a quiver of a smile, his dark features draped in a shadow, and retrieved my bag, passing Jenny an unfriendly look instead. Without a single glance my way, she seated herself on the couch, and I followed suit, trying to convince myself that I could put up with this for one night. Everything would go back to normal in the morning when my lectures began.

"More importantly," Started another girl, bringing me out of my wandering thoughts. Sunglasses hanging precariously on the tip of her nose, she waved her palm back and forth as if that would entirely dissipate the established tension, continuing, "Do tell us why we saw you standing on the porch with Rafe motherfucking Cameron by your side."  

The silence this time around was merely a poor imitation of suspense. She had delivered the sentence as if it was supposed to hit a nerve, and surveying the curiosity on everyone's faces (even Jenny's), I couldn't understand why they were so fixated on Rafe's presence. Nor did I know why people liked him. Surely, they witnessed the same kind of behaviour that I did. Nevertheless, I fed them an answer. 

"His dorm is next to mine. I asked him for a ride." 

"You asked Rafe for a ride?" Jenny scoffed, looking me up and down. I could recognise a bitter edge to her tone. "And he gave you one?" 

I parted my lips, thinking of a way to reply, but thankfully, something else took up the table's attention before I had to, the silence bursting into a chorus of cheers. I clutched the gift bag close to myself. 

"I'm selling 2 for 50, dickheads."

"Don't sell cocaine on my fucking birthday, Rafe!" 

In tow with the dialogue entered the birthday girl herself, Rafe's arm draped across her shoulder as they staggered towards us. When Ruby's appearance became clearer, I found myself doing a double take.

Ruby was just so…. objectively, gorgeous. Cherry-red tinted lips, flawless makeup, dark hair cascading down her pale complexion. All tied together in her birthday special: a wine-red silk dress—

Wait, my eyes widened, cocaine? 

My gaze snapped to the tall man hanging all over her, only to notice the hint of a subtle mess in Rafe's appearance. His blue eyes were blown out, his forehead glistened with sweat, and his hair was no longer in place, strands of it haphazardly falling over his eyebrows instead. No way…. 

"If it isn't Kildare king and queen!" Said the mystery man sarcastically, who had quickly introduced himself to me as Ryan when I sat down. 

"Or more like boyfriend and girlfriend?" Suggested the sunglasses lady and Rafe laughed, tugging Ruby closer into his chest, who giggled affectionately. 

"Shut the fuck up." 

I shifted my attention to Ruby when she addressed me, quickly moving on from the gnawing revelation that Rafe had done what he told me he would. And his concerning alleged drug intake. I did not have any reason to care, and so I wouldn't. 

"I'm so glad you came!" 

I passed her a shy smile, still not over her kind demeanour that was so contrasting to everyone else's. "Happy birthday, Ruby." 

Upon following Ruby's gaze, Rafe found himself connecting his eyes with me. He grunted with a twitch of his eyelid. "There you are."

Choking on a random—unsanitised, I added in my head—drink from the wooden surface, he squeezed through the multitude of folded legs and the edge of the table, skipping the empty space beside Jenny (whose first ever friendly smile morphed into a frown) and collapsed beside me, manspreading into my personal space. Ruby had no option but to awkwardly follow him from the other end. I sighed. 

"You both know each other?" Ruby questioned as she adjusted her dress, a slight disbelief in her voice, and I returned a dismissive yes, hating being asked variations of the same question over and over again. I was pleased that Rafe didn't bother adding to my response, engaged in… staring at my shoulder? Perplexed, I tilted my head down to see the small, flowy sleeve of my dress sliding off my skin. I hastily pulled it back up, sparing Rafe a wary glance. 

As I passed Ruby the gift bag, I hoped for the excitement I harboured from earlier to return and brighten me up again.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" 

I waved her off silently, observing Rafe fall back into a lazy grin as he watched Ruby read the card to herself, a flash of recognition sparking in his eyes. Unwrapping his arm from Ruby's waist, he toyed with a colourful piece of tissue I had filled up the bag with, and intensely focused on Ruby's reaction to the necklace, I jolted in my seat when he threw it in my face.  

"This is so pretty!"

Ruby's comment of appreciation whizzed right past my head, lost in a one-sided glaring competition with Rafe as he donned an exaggerated smirk, clearly under the influence of something. Let me enjoy the stupid moment, god!

"I'm glad you like it."

When all the girls on the table gave nods of approval too, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the jewellery, I emulated a whimsical grin, bashful at their appraisal. At Least I could win their acceptance in some way. And surprise, surprise! It all went crashing down when Rafe chuckled disparagingly, at the gift itself or at my reaction, I didn't know. 

Ruby smacked him in the chest, "You didn't even give me a gift, moron." 

"Oh, you want a gift?" He raised his eyebrows, eyes glinting, pivoting his neck that was angled towards me to face Ruby, "Follow me upstairs, and I'll give you the biggest fucking gift of your life."  

"Yeah?" Ruby's pale cheeks went red, her eyelashes fluttering. I caught Ryan's eyes from across the table, communicating my confusion, but he merely smiled. What was happening? 

"Yeah– baby." My eyes snapped to him, and at his clenching jaw, I could tell he felt my gaze. For some reason, it was odd to hear him use the nickname with someone else and in a manner that wasn't belittling. It made my annoyance at it seem insignificant, silly, because it didn't matter much anyway. 

"Get a room. Jesus." 

"Let's play spin the bottle. Maybe that'll be a good outlet for this." Added the sunglasses lady smugly.   

"Don't tell me it's gonna be crazy like last time." Ruby said, sounding disapproving from the outside, but I could sense a certain anticipation from her. She was still looking at Rafe intently, but he had already moved on. 

"Oh, you betcha." Said man tensed beside me. "Everyone's in, right?" 

Agreeing nods followed. 

"What about you, bunny?" Jenny said, sliding into the conversation after an extended period of silence. And— was I dreaming, or was that a genuine smile? 

"Uh–Sure, yeah." I smiled toothily. The game was the last thing on my mind as I replied to her, more fixated on the fact that she may be starting to like me. I didn't want to have to put up with her unsolicited hatred. 

Rafe chuckled nervously, a gritty laugh that lacked any humour. He rubbed his nose before bending down, face close to my neck, lips brushing my ear. "… it's not the kind of spin the bottle you probably think it is, princess."

"I don't care." 

He grunted. I moved away. He followed. "It's the cock-sucking kind." 

I drew a sharp breath. What did that even mean? 

"Wha— I- I don't care." 

"Oh really?" He turned his body fully towards me this time, leaning forward and getting closer to my face, prompting me to recall a similar image from a couple hours ago. Even though there were people around, my shoulders stiffened, his proximity forcing me to put my eyes right on him despite trying to avert them. "So that whining baby back in your dorm was your twin?" 

I didn't deny it. But I had to just stay calm. Just stay calm. 

"You know…" His voice fell by an octave. "I can just tell them that you're a virgin, and they'll immediately stop if you're uncomfortable. I know sex is so scary to you." Rafe's tone somehow managed to merge concern with condescension, but the latter trumped in my head. It didn't make sense for him to show concern.   

He opened his mouth, going to do exactly what his words suggested, and I grabbed his wrist in a panic, desperation hopefully obvious in my eyes (the tears, not so much). Ryan seemed to like me, Jenny just smiled at me; things were going good. I was slowly blending in with the group, and his announcement would ruin it- it would ruin it all. Like Rafe said. I wasn't ready for that. 

"Rafe, please. Don't."

"You're begging now?" He whispered, looking down at where my fingers wrapped right below his intimidatingly larger palm. 

"If I have to," I whispered back genuinely, and he smirked, a deep chuckle escaping him. My head gently swayed side to side, so utterly baffled at his reaction. "Do you have something against me?" 

"You're adorable." 

I gritted my teeth, fighting off tears. Don't cry. Don't make it worse. 

"Stop this. Just answer my question straight. You wouldn't be treating me this way if you didn't." 

"I'm just teasing you, princess." 

"Don't. Let me play this stupid game. Let me be normal—" 

"Bunny and Ryan, eh?" 

What? 

Jenny's voice, coupled with a chorus of unenthusiastic 'ooo's, broke us out of our bubble of back and forths, and when I dragged my gaze away from Rafe, sweeping it towards the crowd that I had forgotten about for a good minute, I saw the head of a glass bottle waver tauntingly. It was pointed towards me. 

"I dare you," 'Pleased' couldn't even begin to describe the look on Jenny's face, "To suck off Ryan." 

"...." 

Rafe's gaze pierced into my profile. My mind blanked.  

"Maybe don't scare her off, Jenny." Ryan attempted to interject, sensing the tension. Scare me off—I wanted to cry so badly—like a little bunny. 

"Ry, we don't play easy here. You know that." 

"You really don't have to, y'know— 

"Does everybody do it?" My voice was small. 

"Of course they do, they're not pussies." 

Staring straight ahead, I stood up, and they all looked at me. Me and my ill-fitting clothes. 

"Then I'll do it." 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, you're gonna do it?" Rafe suddenly blurted, sitting up in his seat. There was a newfound surprise on his face as if coming out of a trance. As if not expecting me to ever comply. 

"Do you even know how?" He spat. 

I shook my head no. 

"Then what the fuck do you think you're doing? Don't fucking go." Rafe was being anything but subtle now, and I couldn't bear the awkward looks we were getting. He held onto my wrist, right where Jenny had put her mark, and I hissed. 

"Rafe? Why are you acting so weirdly? You've never had a problem with the game before."

"Babe, what's going on….?" 

Rafe didn't acknowledge Jenny or Ruby, and I didn't acknowledge him. 

I snatched my hand away from Rafe, albeit with resistance from both ends. I stood beside Ryan as he got up too, a little confused, a little eager. He led me through the crowd in the hunt for an empty room, placing a hand on my lower waist. I flinched. He hovered his hand instead. 

Ryan was saying something, but I could barely focus. 

"It's probably just the cocaine." Were the last words that reached me from the group before the loud music, louder when you were in the middle of the party, took over.  *ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A/N: idk whats going on anymore. but who cares. Once again, feel free to comment your thoughts! Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @angelofcigs

[beanibon]

GIVE ME A READER WHO KNIVES IS TEACHING HOW TO PLAY PIANO AND HE FUCKS THE READER WHILE THEY PLAY AND PUNISHES THEM IF THEY MESS UP PLEASE POOKIE

-@millionsvash

Lesson Number One

TW: Smut, potential dubcon, porn w/o plot, cock warming, orgasm denial, p in v, degradation and praise, choking, slight nipple play, rough sex.

Your mouth felt dry, hot and clammy as delicate fingers grazed your vulnerable throat. With your body shaking, quivering with embarrassment and pleasure, your mind could not focus on which note was next.

Resulting in your fifth mistake.

A disapproved sigh sounded behind you, saliva forced down with a harsh swallow, one that felt as if you had a stone in your throat. You awaited nervously for your punishment, whimpers of excitement and fear escaping you.

"You humans are useless, how many times must I correct you? This isn't rocket science, nor something vastly more difficult, it's as if you wish to suffer by my hand." Knives grumbled, those once gentle fingers squeezing the air from your lungs.

Eyes rolled deep into your skull, you gasped, drool sliding from the corners of your lips. The walls of your cunt convulsed, a growl of restraint echoing around the disturbing room of sanctum, his cock twitching within you.

"Filthy slut, to think death turns you on." Knives surged forward, smirking as you unceremoniously faceplanted against the keys. A hideous melody played out, an idea popped into the Independent's mind.

Flipping your bare body over, forcing you to look into those beautiful, deadly eyes. Knives pressed you painfully into his most precious possession, the keys singing a horrid tune. It would've made your ears hurt, if Knives crazed look of lust, anger and disgust didn't make you squirm uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll never forget a single key again. I'll fuck it so deep in that human brain of yours until it's engraved in it!"

Before you could even protest, your cries mixed with the slamming of piano keys, filling the room. Anyone passing by would instantly know of the vile sins their Master and his pet were committing. After all, why would he ever purposely make such awful music?

There was no silencing your cries either. No, Knives liked to hear you scream his name, let everyone know that you're his filthy, whorish pet.

Fingers pinched and pulled at your swelling nipples, causing your legs to kick out. Never was he gentle, always being cruel to the point you wept in painful pleasure.

With each thrust, hips colliding with your pelvis, that piano spewed out its awful melody. And the more Knives heard, the more he wanted you ruined against it.

"What's the matter? Is my mutt getting close?" As you nodded, unable to form a proper sentence, Knives chuckled. "Good."

All movement ceased, Knives roughly flipping you, cock still buried to the hilt inside your dripping cunt. Slamming your face against the keys, his crazed eyes stared expectedly at you.

"Well? Aren't you going to play?" He cooed mockingly, fists full of your hair.

You couldn't believe it. Eyes wide with disbelief that Knives expected you to play, a song you struggled with in a sound mind, not close to drenching his cock in your orgasmic juices. Yet when slammed against the keys once more, nose aching from the impact, you knew he wasn't playing around.

Mind clouded, vision foggy from the euphoria of your cunt being ruined, you began to shakily play out the song Knives so dutifully began teaching you. Such a generous soul he was, allowing a mere human to touch the gorgeous piano he adored. You tried to be thankful for the opportunity, but in this exact moment, it proved to be quite difficult.

As it approached the part you often screwed up, Knives attempted to shove his cock in further, purposely. The fucker wanted you to screw up, to punish you.

So you could imagine his disappointment when you succeeded in remembering the notes.

With a deep, disappointed frown, Knives huffed. Slamming his cock into you, feeling as you came instantly from the sudden action, legs quivering as your juices coated his inhuman member.

Pulling out, watching as his cum dribbled down you quivering legs, Knives began walking towards the doors. No after-care. You were use to it, thankful that each day pleasing him was a day you lived.

"I suppose you did well, some congratulations are in order. However," Knives looked over his shoulder, watching as you leant against the front of his piano. "I would've preferred if you failed. That way, you'd be stuffed and bred for your mistakes."

You swallowed, feeling your core ache and moisten from those words alone. If you had've just played the wrong note, that tight pussy would be stuffed for hours until you were fat with Knives child.

"Oh well, there is always next time you fail to complete a simple task." With that, your tormentor left.

Leaving you. All alone, wishing you just screwed up to have him fuck you until the next morning.

A/N: HI GUYS! Hope you enjoyed my lil smutfic, the first one since I'm back. Feel free to give any feedback, and remember my requests are open!

Love you guys heaps!

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 13

Find the series masterlist

Okay guys, we're approaching the end! I think we've got two chapters left in this story. And remember, if you kill me, I can't finish the story.

Medic learns more about Atriox's plan, and has a difficult decision to make.

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical plots against humanity, nobody likes humanity I guess, playing fast and loose with canon, canon is my sandbox. Mention of injuries.

Word count: 2k

Master chief/John-117 x f!reader

“Humanity has been more opposition than I first imagined,” Atriox growled. He’d left you on the ground, for which you were grateful. It was easier to hide the shaking when you were already seated. “But you will not be for much longer.” 

You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. You were a medic, not an engineer. But you knew it was bad. 

You wished you did know what he was doing, so you could find some way to stop him. 

Not that you really thought you could. You were, after all, the third most harmless person on this ring. 

“Why did you not break when you lost your Master Chief?” 

It took you a solid two seconds to realize that Atriox was not speaking to you, but speaking of humanity in general. You swallowed hard.

“Well, he died before, so.” You almost immediately winced at yourself. Oh yeah, great plan, snark at the maniac with the weapons and hands as big as your head. Good job. 

Atriox huffed. “Then I will see to his death permanently this time,” he growled. “He will be the first, but not the last.” He looked down at you over his shoulder, the blue lighting only making him more intimidating, somehow. 

You swallowed hard. That was very much a threat. One he apparently intended to see through. 

This was so bad. 

Two of the Endless floated nearer to him, and Atriox once again elected to ignore you, back to you. You took the chance to look around, carefully. You were far from alone, after all. 

There were weapons and supplies stacked neatly. More than you were comfortable seeing. 

It looked like war preparations. 

Which was terrifying, of course, but also rather useless here. Sure, Atriox could lead the Endless and whatever of his forces remained against the humans here on the Halo, but that was far from all of humanity. 

Fernando had told you the Halo was non-operational, John had dismantled whatever it was that made it a weapon. 

So what was Atriox’s plan? 

Not that it really mattered, so long as someone thwarted his plan. You doubted you could do much, but you could try. 

Very carefully, you scooted back away from the control panel and Atriox. Nobody even looked at you, clearly deeming you harmless. 

Maybe you could use that to your advantage? Somehow? 

You could feel the Halo humming under you, gentle vibrations that would have been soothing if you weren’t absolutely terrified. Nobody else seemed to pay it any attention, but you leaned into it a bit. 

Look, you could really use anything to help you calm down a bit just about now. 

Okay, so you couldn’t tell what they were planning, and they were currently ignoring you, correctly deciding that you were not someone they needed to worry about. Okay. What else could you do? 

There were tons of weapons, of course. Most of which you didn’t know how to use. And which you had no chance of doing any real damage with. Okay, yeah, not your best idea. Moving on. 

The Endless seemed to be doing their own thing - only a few were around Atriox. You didn’t know where the rest had gone, because when Chief had been chasing them there had been many, many more. Possibly they were around the rest of the Halo? But for what purpose?

Maybe they knew how to repair it.

The thought stirred dread in your chest, cold seeping into your bones and your mind. That… was horrifying. And terrible. That would end so poorly. 

But you had to consider it.

From what you remembered, the Endless had been around with the Forerunners, so there was a possibility they knew how to work this tech. 

Which was honestly pretty terrifying. But this whole situation was pretty terrifying, so you weren’t sure how to qualify the actual level of terrifying anymore. 

Okay. So. Atriox and the Endless were definitely up to something. You couldn’t do a lot from here. But you could watch, observe, try to piece together their plan.

And that’s exactly what you did. You sat there, thigh aching, gaze fixed on Atriox and the Endless around him. Maybe if you watched you’d get some hint, some clue as to their plan. Maybe. 

It was the least you could do, anyway. 

For the large part, they all ignored you. Atriox, the Endless, the Sangheili. All of them. You were beneath their focus, not worthy of watching more than to make sure you didn’t grab a weapon and start shooting. 

Not that you were offended by this. They were pretty much right about that. 

You had no idea how long you sat there. Time was meaningless and impossible to track. You just stayed exactly where you were, watching everything.

So when the Sangheili approached you again, you flinched. But he just sneered down at you and hauled you to your feet, grip uncaringly tight around your upper arm. You winced but kept quiet. 

You were moved through a doorway, though your thigh ached and threatened to give out from under you. A walkway went around the circular room, with a single walkway stretching out over nothingness to a central point. 

“Move,” Atriox growled from to the side of you. You chanced a quick look, but he was just watching you. So you stepped forward carefully, slowly. 

“What am I doing?” You kept your voice low - it felt wrong to speak at full volume here. 

“Ensuring my victory.” Atriox stepped up behind you, too close, looming over you. Then again, being on the same damn Halo as him was too close. Two of the Endless floated near you, watching with open curiosity. 

So. They needed you to do something. Some way to interact with the Halo, or activate it, or something. But they needed you to do it. Or else why bother grabbing a human at all? Why bother keeping you alive? 

Too many questions, not enough answers, and no way to get them. You blew out a slow breath, looking down at the interface in front of you. You could probably throw yourself off the walkway, which would at least slow down his plans. Give Blue Team a chance to catch up and stop him. 

But you didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. 

Apparently tired of waiting for you, Atriox grabbed your arm, pulling your hand forward to slap against the interface. It lit up vibrant blue, sending chills down your spine. 

“The Forerunners thought they were being so clever,” he growled, watching various statuses show up, flicking through them. “Leaving their technology to humans.” 

The two Endless moved closer, and you stepped away. Carefully. Slowly. Your arm ached and throbbed where you’d been grabbed twice now, but nobody stopped you. They were focused on the displays. 

Okay. Maybe you could back up, grab a weapon, and… do something. 

You didn’t have a chance to plan more than that, though, as the sound of gunfire echoed down into the open room. Atriox started barking orders, his remaining soldiers gearing up quickly. 

You used the distraction to scuttle away as fast as you could, trying to remain out of the way. Partially because you didn’t want to get shot, and partially because you didn’t want to get grabbed as a shield. It was easy for you to hide in the growing chaos, looking around almost desperately for some way to defend yourself. 

The sounds of fighting grew louder, the shots getting closer. You had just turned to look back at the weapons stash, so you had a perfect view of Blue Team advancing into the room. Your breath stuttered out of you. They were okay. They were all okay. 

“Master Chief,” Atriox rumbled, taking one step forward. “We meet again.”

Chief didn’t respond, just shifting his grip on his gun, helmet fixed on Atriox. 

“You will not be so lucky again.” Atriox started forward, the floor shaking under his steps as he ran towards Chief. 

You didn’t watch. You couldn’t watch. Two of the Endless were still working at the terminal, completely avoiding the fighting. Whatever they were working on was bad, clearly. They were trying to get it done. 

You’d just have to disrupt their work. 

A shotgun slid towards you, bumping into your shoe. You picked it up quickly and then looked at Blue Team. Fred nodded to you once before he threw a whole Unggoy into the pit, the high-pitched squeals fading quickly.

You didn’t hear it hit the bottom. 

You knew the basics of gun safety, at least, so you were able to point and shoot. Which you did. Your first shot was a little wide, but the second hit both Endless. One of them turned on you with a furious sound while the other continued working. 

Well. Damn. 

You pressed your back into the wall, eyes wide. That had not gone according to plan! 

But the Endless didn’t have a chance to attack. Two more shots hit it in the back, and it turned and… teleported? It did something and moved away from you. 

Giving you a chance to focus on the remaining one. You needed to stop it. Somehow. You had no ammo, no convenient ally to help. 

So you did what you could. You threw the entire shotgun at the Endless. 

The Endless turned, energy crackling at its fingertips. Oh shit. It floated towards you slowly, seemingly just to enjoy the panic on your face as you scrambled backwards, away from it. 

Kelly dropped down out of seemingly nowhere, pinning the Endless beneath her and shooting it in the face three times. “Stop taunting them,” she scolded you, sparing you one look before she leapt off to deal with something else. 

You breathed out slowly, shakily. Yeah. Right. Good idea. You’d accomplished your goal, anyway. 

Back still pressed against the wall, you hunkered down a little, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The fight around you was loud and far too close, but there was nowhere else to go. 

You had the perfect vantage point to see Atriox look back at the control panel. You saw two Sangheili descend on Chief to distract him. You saw Atriox leap back to the control panel. 

You looked down when you felt something bump into your shoe. Another weapon. But this time it was a grenade. You had no idea what kind it was, or what it did, but you recognized the shape. 

You picked up the grenade. Blue Team was scattered across the room, dealing with the veritable flood of Endless. 

Could you make that throw? Maybe. 

A sharp clang jerked your head to the side as Fred hit the wall across from you, getting back to his feet quickly, in time to block a shot from an Unggoy. 

Your Spartans were doing well, but they hadn’t known the extent of what they faced. They didn’t know Atriox’s full plan.

Neither did you, of course, but you knew more than they did. You knew that he couldn’t succeed. 

You knew what you had to do.

It took all your courage to take that first step forward. Then another. You moved slowly, softly. You didn’t even register to the combatants - the Endless were focused on Blue Team, and Blue Team was focused on eliminating the actual threats with extreme prejudice. 

You nearly wobbled the last step you dared, your instincts screaming at you to run away from Atriox. But you didn’t. You held your ground, facing his back, shaking. You pulled the pin on the grenade, crouching a little. Okay. You could do this. 

You rolled the grenade right between Atriox’s feet until it hit the bottom of the control panel and stopped. 

Your gaze met John’s across the room, his visor impenetrable as ever, but still comforting. He shouted, and it took you a moment to realize he’d called your name. 

Atriox made a triumphant noise. 

John lunged.

The grenade went off.

[broncoburro]

MEUR TYPES: A PRIMER

Meur (or magic) is a natural force in Vestur. Since the invention of the Andimeur Synthesizer (a device that converts it into a form usable by man), Vestur’s aristocracy has continually found new uses for it. From homes heated by red meur to nutritionally dense food aided by green meur, the Tri-Kingdom has gained the distinction of most scientifically advanced country in the known world.

Children in Vestur sometimes play a clapping game that goes as such:

“Green’s for the beans on my supper plate, Blue’s for the clean water enjoyed while I ate, Red warms my toes when there’s snow on the ground, Yellow’s how a Southern fellow steers his ship around, And if he crashes it upon the shore The Architect alone will decide his score: Black, White, Black, White, Black, White, Black If the man is slack, it’s the work of Black If he avoids the light-- Then thank goodness, it’s White!”

Like all good children’s songs, it ends in giggles about dying a horrible death. But it effectively teaches every child in the Tri-Kingdom about what each of the six meur types, or colors are, and their most common use cases.

Green meur affects the botanical world. While plants cannot be summoned into existence through green meur alone, it can be used to grow plants in conditions that shouldn’t be able to foster them. It may also alter their growth trajectory or physical properties. Almost none the of the plants grown in the Northern Kingdom could survive the nutrient-poor, hard soil without green meur. Specializing in green meur may sound tame or perhaps boring at first (and green meur users are stereotyped as such), but bring domesticated thorny vine seeds onto the battlefield and a competent green meur user will be sending barbed tendrils through an enemy’s torso in seconds.

Blue meur pertains to water. The ability to command water’s flow has several use cases in itself: powering water wheels, irrigation for agriculture, maintenance of sewerways. But this meur type takes on new complexities when you consider water’s other states. Ice can be easily weaponized, and some innovative meur scientists have been doing research into engines powered by steam. Even more mysterious, it seems water’s omnipresence on earth has lent blue meur some properties related to the flow of time. There’s more to blue meur than is currently understood.

Red meur is pure energy in the form of heat. When wielded by man, It’s most commonly seen as fire. Heat is useful for everything from keeping a forge running to warming air in houses. Red meur is (sadly) not a free energy buffet though, and has some major downsides: it’s inherently tiring and energy-intensive on the user. In addition, fine control is difficult. Red meur users have something of a reputation for being none too bright, but many of said users would rebuff this with “easy to use, difficult to master”.

Yellow meur affects air. It’s mainly used to influence wind direction and speed, leading to some of the fastest trade ships in the known world. As a result, yellow meur is an eclectic choice for anyone to specialize in besides Southerners. The current use cases are narrow... but this might be more due to lack of interest in the field than anything else. Who knows, perhaps some sort of yellow meur related discovery is around the corner....?

Green, blue, red, and yellow are the standard meur colors. Upwards of 95% of Vestur's nobility have their specialty in these four. There are two less common meur types though, and they have a lot of mythologizing around them, as well as being less understood.

White meur is usually described by laymen as “the healing one”. Say that to any white practitioner and watch him start pulling his hair out in frustration and screeching through gritted teeth, “its so much deeper than that!”. Those who use white meur must, in addition to finishing standard meur education at Vestur Royal Military Academy, score well on the White College Aptitude Test and be accepted to the College of Divine Healing, where they’ll learn about the human body, pathology, and advanced white meur for an additional two years. Only then can one be certified as a white practitioner. Without knowing what you’re putting back into place and why, it’s horrendously easy to do more harm than good when mending the human body.

All this said, white meur can’t do miracle work. Wound closure or bone refusing is one thing – regrowing a whole arm or bringing someone back from the dead is strictly in the realm of fantasy.

Black meur inflicts death, plain and simple. It is unilaterally outlawed. Its only practical use is in combat, but black meur is considered a dishonorable way to inflict suffering. Any of the standard colors can just as easily be used to kill. Only one nobleman in all of Vestur is registered as a black meur user, and the designation was given as a soft way to say, “you are disallowed from wielding meur of any color”. Though... he really is quite talented at it, as circumstance will soon reveal.

And those are the meur colors! Every noble child in Vestur goes to VRMA and gets educated on the principles of wielding each, but as a graduated nobleman in the service of your community, a person may only specialize in one.

Any given two blue meur users likely have their in very different applications: one might maintain a city’s sewerways, and another might work to provide potable water in an area where there is none. There is a lot of variation and opportunity within any given color.

(The little emblems for the meur types, as with all of Forever Gold's more graphic design-y work, were done by LSDolphin!)

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (III): Ready For It?

Imagine Aemond is sent to seek for Dorne’s support just in the moment you ascend as Princess of Dorne. What's going to be?

Warnings: violence, drama, smut--fluff endings.

***

• Prelude.

If there is something the new Westerosi king detests is the bloody council. But what angers him more is the idea of losing a throne that, in his mind, is rightful his—even if his own father never acknowledged this.

“Lords”, the silver haired young man, in his fourth and twentieth year of life, shorter so the one occupied in the throne, “We have received concerning news that the one who unfortunately is my sister by blood, Rhaenyra, has been gathering support from the East. This can only mean that uncle Daemon’s strength has not dissipated as we were led to believe. As much as I loath to waste my time looking at your ugly faces, I pray some of you will come with a resolution.”

A man named H/N raises his hand, almost promptly. Aegon looks interested at the man.

“We may have failed in bringing Dorne to our Kingdoms, sire, but they can be our allies. Their strength and wit will certainly be a plus to ours.” He carefully adds then. “Dragons will not be enough to win this war.”

Silence seems to reign over the Council Room as the king has all eyes on him, waiting whether he’s about to lazily throw his temper or if he’s buying the idea. It hardly surprises that he looks at his brother, lord Aemond, in look for advise.

“Well?”

“I can go there and do the diplomacy. It’s certainly easy, especially when I have Vhagar with me.”

The same lord H/N clears his throat and says:

“My lord prince, with all due respect, but Vhagar’s own sister was not enough to frighten the Dornish. It would do well to remember they bow to no one.”

Aemond clenches his jaw. Though he sees reason in the man’s speech, he does not like to be put in his place. But the Master of Coins carefully inserted an element few would have remembered.

“Perhaps we better have in mind that right now Dorne is… divided. The former prince H/N has been buried and his daughter, Lady Y/N, has succeeded him. But not many are willing to support her claim.”

Aegon scoffs, detesting the parallels. But Aemond eagerly says:

“I believe we can play this to advance, my king.”

The king, already impatient, waves his hand dismissively:

“Do what you can, Aemond. We need the Dornish.” He says unwillingly.

The Council is thus dismissed.

***

• The Dornish Throne.

You are sitting on the throne room, watching the view of Sunspear with preying eyes. Although the Dornish has long accepted that women are as capable to rule as any other man, a pretender has been trying to make the transition of power difficult for you.

Dressed in orange colors, with a dark veil covering your y/c hair, you wait for the arrival of your council. Having arrived earlier for this meeting, you are too preoccupied to let yourself sleep at peace.

This pretender attends by the name of Dorin and he is the illegitimate son of your uncle, who had been long dead and gone by the time the throne was passed to your father. He now claims that he has a better right than yours, specially considering that illegitimacy in Dorne is not an element to prevent succession.

What worries the council, who’s been loyal to you, is your sweet nature. Most of them have said that an evil will not grow if not cut before it’s rise. Diplomacy, you were told, is not helping your case.

Not intending to be underestimate, though, you know what should be done. You remember that your father, whenever he wanted to prevent a war, ended it before it started by using that sweet weapon most Dornish are known for.

So here’s your chance to assert yourself. You invite the said lord for a meeting. Despite the others desires to a public exhibition of force, you will remember him—as well as others—that sweet you may be, but you are viper nonetheless.

And vipers do not bow, do not bend, do not break to anyone.

***

• Dragons & Vipers.

Knew he was killer first time that I saw him. Wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted. But if he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom, holding him for ransom…

In the midst of this mess, it’s been spotted a shadow of a large dragon. Your men prepare for worst, unwilling to trust dragon riders as they did for centuries. Your orders, however, are: do not attack under no first sign of threat.

You are very familiar to the situation happening in King’s Landing not to suppose what would be the prince’s intentions. Against your council’s wishes, though, you opt to meet him right outside of Sunspear’s palace, after your people have been safely evacuated.

As Aemond flies, cockily so, he is surprised to meet you and you alone before the opens of Sunspear, waiting for him. Something about your posture gets him off guard: you transmit a sensation of peace, bearing a sweet demeanor, the remaining of innocence in your eyes that reminds him of Helaena… every inch goodness in such a regal person.

Dressed in typical Dornish robes, you feel the eyes of this silver prince, who looks less like a fire dragon than you’d have thought. As his gazes study you, you study his, noticing his rogue posture, the mischief in his semblance—every characteristic that warns you this is a troublesome prince.

Indeed, the impressions cannot be positive to you. The size of Vhagar frightens you, but this is a year where you’ve been taught in the hard way how to play a poker face.

Much to his frustrations, Aemond Targaryen cannot read you.

“Princess Y/N of Dorne”, he greets you respectfully, every inch a lord. “I pray to find you well this day.”

“My lord Aemond of House Targaryen”, you surprise him by already becoming familiar with his name. You flash him a smirk. “A pleasure to meet the kinslayer.”

The silver-haired male has the decency to blush upon hearing the sobriquet out of your lips.

You make me sound like a sinner, princess.

“Gods know there are more to this world than rumours unfairly spred.”

You still feign a courage your soul lacks by responding easily:

“Where there is smoke, there is flame. In your case, literally so, lord Aemond.”

The prince clenches his jaw, the only sign of his irritation.

“Then am I refused the right to present myself formally so?”

“No, not at all”, you smile at him in a sweet way that disconcerts him. “Why’d you assume this easily, sir?”

Aemond ignores your question. Formalities must be followed and had his brother not been in need of Dornish aid, his emotions might’ve had the best of him.

“Princess Y/N Martell, I am Lord Aemond of House Targaryen”, and here he bows rather theatrically, although his one good eye holds yours in such an intent gaze that your face flushes. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My brother, Aegon II of Westeros, to short his long titles, has sent me with the due purpose of linking our houses in an alliance.”

“I see”, it’s what you say. “Welcome to Sunspear, Dorne’s main seat for Dornish princes and princesses, Lord Aemond of House Targaryen. I invite you to follow me inside so we can have a supper together. You must certainly be tired after flying such a distance.”

Aemond takes the arm you offer him, eyeing you still. He doesn’t admit how easily you captivate him with that sweet nature and soft voice that make him forget the lady that waits for him back at Harrenhal, whose name has now been turned to dust.

But what do you know?

***

I see nothing better, I keep him forever Like a vendetta-ta… I-I-I see how this is gon' go.

The two of you dinner together this evening and the next one alone in your privy quarters, soon doing too all the following week. Aemond detests to feel he’s been in a different sort of cage, trapped by your naivety, when he forgets that, however good by nature you may be, you are still a viper and he’s in your nest.

“You look bored, lord”, you tell him, enjoying immensely his company.

For seven days he taught you how to improve your archery all the whilst he was impressed by your sharp mind: in all frankness, Aemond was surprised to find a ruler like you completely versed in politics and history—specially the Targaryen’s.

Few would dream to outwit this bad reputed prince.

And whenever you danced, the prince sensed a new jealousy growing in his heart, for he didn’t enjoy sharing his view with other men.

Here he is, therefore, in deadly silence where neither is aware of each other’s thoughts.

“Do I?”

You don’t seem affected by his apparently indifference to you.

“Yes. Like a snowflake, you find yourself understandably an outsider here, under a very heat sun.”

He scoffs at you, but in his playful eyes you see some shade of scorn.

“Am I being compared with a Stark? My princess, a dragon does not shy away from the fire.”

You know however sentimental you are that reason comes first hand followed by duty. Despite shining like the sun, your eyes are cold like the moon.

“You haven’t been burnt enough to call yourself a dragon, sire”, and here a smirk dances in your lips.

“Madame, I am not one to be toyed with”, he advises you dangerously.

But neither breaks the gaze. The spell is done… and the consequences? Unpredictably beginning to burn.

***

All the whilst Aemond hasn’t received a definitive answer for the support to Aegon’s cause, you come to discover some deep scars in your guest’s soul.

Although declining a play in the privy pools of Sunspear, he is there, watching you going with a light gown properly chosen for the moment. But his eyes are now attentive to your curves, his body aching with desire when noticing your breasts—and thanking perhaps the Gods for the indecency view that is, however, so innocently displayed.

“The waters do good to our noblemen”, you invite him, ignoring this rising in your feminine parts at how he looks at you. “Come and join me. I ask you. It certainly will heal your distrust in me.”

As you giggle, Aemond cannot help a smirk, but then he snorts defensively.

“I don’t distrust you, Madame princess. But I’ve been caged here for weeks.”

“We have never forbidden our lordship to depart”, you tell him, tilting your head for a moment before disappearing in diving. “Vhagar is being well looked after and so are you. Isn’t that true?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He, however, eventually cedes to your arms of seduction and removes partly his clothes. When being aware of your stare, the prince struggles not to smirk.

“You must dive in naked”, you suggest, gently.

“By the Gods”, he snorted. “Are you playing with me, woman?”

You laugh away before diving again, giving the appearances of letting him have some privacy. Forgetting all decency and protocols, he soon dives in, chasing after you.

I know I'm gonna be with you. So l'lI take my time… Are you ready for it?

When being caught by him, the playful flirtation turns into something else.

“You don’t have to hide away from me”, you tell him, smiling at him.

“What is this suppose to mean?”, he asks in his typical husky voice

As you take away the thing that hides away the eye that was once removed, there installed a sapphire, you move your wrist to caress it. Aemond impedes your bold gesture by holding it.

“Don’t.”

You know he’s being serious, threatening even. But that is only because Aemond is frightened for being so exposed at you in this land where vipers are known for so long ago defeating his ancestors.

Is he destined to suffer the same fate?

“I am not your enemy”, you say softly. “Isn’t it why you’ve stayed?”

“You’ve been toying with me”, he presses you against the wall of the pool, holding your thighs up as he inserts in between.

“I have not”, you tell him honestly, so crudely open under his gaze, burning under his touch as his right hand raises to your right thigh all the whilst you feel his erection.

“I am a kinslayer, I have many names”, he then holds your neck, aroused as how easily he dominates such an innocent viper as you. “How can I see love in your eyes?”

“We are not meant to be enemies.”

“No”, he agrees, unable to look away from you. And just like that he inserts a finger in you, making you moan so loudly suddenly. “Ah, so wet for me!”

“Lord, I mus say…”, whatever you are about to tell him dies in hitched breaths.

Having the control over you as his fingers slide curiously in your feminine entrance, pumping slowly as to tease you, Aemond comes so close to your lips where his breath mixes to yours.

“Playing coy with me, aren’t you?” And then he realizes what you meant to say. “And yet here you are with me, a damsel. Isn’t it scandalous?”

But the way you moan sensually, unable to fight away such strong desires tempts him to take you on that moment. And when maybe he’s about to explore your body more, unwillingly so you pull him away from you.

“No, lord prince”, even though it’s so hateful to interrupt this delicious intercourse, you know for the sake of your reputation this must come to an end. “We are a free folk, that is true, but we are unbent, unbowed and unbroken. That should not be forgotten.”

He watches astonished and speechless as you pull an innocent mask again, leaving him where he is.

And just like that the dragon is defeated in his own trap.

Baby, let the games begin. Let the games begin. Are you ready for it?

• The End Game.

Aemond watches in growing frustration that, indeed, the Dornish ought to support King Aegon in exchange for his aid in removing lord H/N out of Princess Y/N’s rule, but you behave graciously as if that intimate moment never happened.

To worse all, he is prepared to sacrifice his duty for you.

“My lord, you’ve received your prize”, a councilor tells him the very next day he could not find you. “We’ve arranged a deal. What else do you want?”

“I want to know where the fuck is princess Y/N!”, the dragon lord says under his breath.

Probably the councilor sighs thinking another one you’ve made fool of, but because this time is no ordinary man, he’s careful with his words. Aware of Aemond’s reputation, he eventually gives in and tells where you are.

Dressed in comfortable robes, you are found at the library, actually interested in this love story—always a romantic—you’ve found. After defeating the pretender and restoring peace to your kingdom, you are fighting away melancholy for you think Aemond wanted to bed you and after all he got, he probably vanished.

“Y/N”, you hear his voice and don’t wait to turn quickly when seeing him coming to your direction. There is pain in him, but also anger. “You played with me.”

Leaving aside diplomatic masks, but remaining your true sweet self, you wring your hands and say:

“I had no intention to. But I had to leave you, lord.”

“Why?”, the prince asks, making sure there is some distance between you two.

“You are taken”, you respond, alluding to Alys Rivers. “I felt fooled and thought that I have been enough fooled this year. You see, Ser, I am not temperamental like my ancestors or most members of my family are. I understand what’s like to be underestimated and learned how to use this to my favor. Like a true viper, I surround, indeed, but am above all a master in poisoning. By that, I don’t mean literally poison, that too, but metaphorically too. I must stand for me.”

You hate how tears rise to your eyes in this moment, but despite the lack of emotion in the prince’s eyes, you continue your speech.

“I shall not bend my heart to a dragon who thinks so easily to conquer me; I will not break before your iron claws and certainly not I will let myself bow to your brother.” You pause. “I am Aegon’s equal, lord. Because that is how it works here. And my maiden hood will not be deflowered by no other than my husband.”

“So leave if you may”, you turn your back at him. “I will endure as many before me had.”

Many words cross this prince’s minds as you speak, but seeing none will suffice to restore the bond between you two, Aemond forces you to look at him and, when cupping your face with his fingers, he says:

“I am yours, Princess Y/N. I will not leave until you have me at your command. Be it as your will. But poets will certainly sing about a viper and her dragon. For you I sacrifice my duty.”

And just like that the game comes to an end. His lips clash against yours and as your mouth opens to welcome his, his tongue slides inside and a fervent kiss comes as a result.

***

In a secretive ceremony, you welcome Lord Aemond of House Targaryen as Prince Consort of Dorne. In unofficial terms, Dorne is incorporated to the Seven Kingdoms, a political decision already contemplated by the Dornish council in their own terms.

Now in your privy quarters, there is no need to play further games. Aemond is aroused just by the lustful gaze you cast as him, eager to help him get rid of his robes.

“Princess Y/N, is there something you aren’t telling me? You surely aren’t a maiden”, he teases you as you kiss his neck and let your hands explore his exposed skin, not taking long to take hold of his manhood.

“I read too much, lord, and heard too much”, you explain. “Though I’ve had my share of fun, I had brains to know where to stop.”

You let him slide your white robes, feeling yourself wet in turn as he eyes you with the eyes of a hunter. No sooner he carries you to bed and there he begins to play with you.

“My wife”, he murmurs as he takes each nipples into his hungry mouth, hands caressing your thighs and hips before releasing one to play with your feminine parts.

“Husband!”, you cry out his name in turn, hands playing with his hair, body burning in flames under his gentle touch.

It doesn’t take more before Aemond dominates you completely. And just as you lock your bodies is the moment where one is exposed to the other. Truthfully. Beautifully so.

“I love you, Y/Nickname”, he smiles as he holds you dear.

“I love you too, my prince”, you mewl under his touch, his devotion, which eclipse every insecurity that has been within your heart.

***

•Epilogue

According to the chronicler of Princess Y/N Martell, it’s been of common knowledge that her reign was one of the longest in Dorne, reaching out exactly fifty years of government.

This was marked by some good deeds:

• The defeat of any pretenders to Princess Y/N’s sovereignty.

• The defeat of some noble rebels of the House Dayne.

• The alliance with House Targaryen that resulted in the marriage with Lord Aemond Targaryen, now acknowledged as Prince Consort of House Martell.

• The retaining independence of Dorne and it’s rule house (which shall not change the surname to Targaryen after the birth of the children, at least not officially: it shall be more like Nymeros-Targaryen-Martell) after incorporating Dorne to the Seven Kingdoms, a deed no fire nor blood of Aegon I and his sisters could have done.

• A golden age for the Dornish which arts, music, theater, chivalry and a love court rose in proeminente at your court without forgetting to sharp the reputation of holding a large and very disciplined army, now under the command of Lord Aemond Targaryen, now remembered as Aemond the Wise for his great contribution as Dornish consort, his participation in battles against the remaining usurpers such as Daemon Targaryen and his wife, Rhaenyra, amongst others.

• The union of Princess Y/N & Prince Aemond resulted in the birth of twelve children, some twins; they were said to have been partially like Lady Y/N, partially like Aemond, like children usually are, taking after their parents.

• Unusually for the day, the twelve children lived to adulthood. These are their names in the following order: Doran, Oberan, Aegon, Jaehaerys, Daenerys, Alysanne, Rhaella, Arthur, Gerold, Gwyn, Elia, Otto.

The chronicler, naturally, registered their lives too as it follows.

• Doran took as wife princess Jaehaera Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon II & the good queen Helaena. They had children of their own and in due time, Doran & Jaehaera became prince and princess of Dorne.

• Oberan opted to become a squire—and his life would be remarkably scandalous, with some saying he took after his royal uncle. Having plenty of mistresses, he produced, if we are to believe, ten illegitimate children. He is, as we are told, a good father to all of them, having recognized each as his. Apparently, he settled down by marrying—ah, scandalous as it is!—a granddaughter of Daemon Targaryen, a Velaryon lady we have no record of name. We also do not record Prince Aemond’s reaction to this fact.

• Aegon rose to become a great knight, serving King Jaehaerys II in due time by upholding no other than the legendary great sword Dawn, being the first of the royal Guard to be entitled as the Sword in the Morning. He was the epithet of honor and duty. Some still say he was his father’s favourite boy.

• Jaehaerys, a very common Targaryen name as one can perceive, chose to live his life religiously. Therefore he never married, although there had been a rumor he fathered an illegitimate child from an alleged liaison with a beautiful sept. Who knows?

• Daenerys, who inherited the charms and wits of her mother, captured her cousin’s heart. To the Dowager Queen’s delight, she saw her two grandchildren crowned overlords of Westeros. This is a fancy way to say that Daenerys Martell in due time became Queen consort of Westeros. She loves her husband as he loves her. Such a love story hasn’t been seen since the days of the first Jaehaerys and his good queen Alysanne.

• Alysanne. We know little of her. She married a Hightower cousin, and there she lives. Sometimes she and her husband are seen visiting Sunspear.

• Rhaella was very beautiful too, and some say she took after her father. She was very close to her parents and therefore married late, a nobleman of House Dayne named Stefon.

• Arthur was another of the Princess and Prince’s boys who was destined to be famed for his military skills. But, a free spirited himself, he declined the life serving at the King’s Guard: possibly, if we believe the gossipers, for fear of being eclipsed by his older brother. Whatever the case, he was given a seat at the Council, took the role that was once Ser Criston Cole’s and lived a good life. He married a younger sister to the lord Tytus Lannister.

• Gerold was renowned for his wit and therefore became a Maister in due time. He is currently in Winterfell. Some say, however, he is a lover to a sister to Lord Cregan Stark. Who knows? The man is too honored for that if I may leave my opinion here.

The ink is drying and my patience in writing is running thin. May the reader be told, however, that the youngest three (Gwyn, Elia and Otto) lived a good life like their eldest siblings. Gwyn married a Dornish nobleman of Starfall; Elia married a Targaryen cousin and Otto rose higher by surprising all and becoming the new lord of Harrenhal.

What a great time to be alive!

Signed: Chronicler Unnamed.

[lumenhunter]

Headcanon: Astarion learned how to play a variety of instruments under Cazador. This was not a pleasant process.

--

Cazador stared, unblinking. So still, like a statue. With just the two of them there was no point in pretenses. He didn’t breathe, didn’t swallow. Didn’t make the little movements that implied any sort of humanity. In contrast, Astation was forced to cling to those little things.

Remember to blink, at least three times a minute. Steady breaths, in and out. And most of all, ignore the pain. Ignore the burn and sting as his fingers slid gracefully along the strings. Ignore the ever-present gnawing of his stomach. Astarion’s lips were shaped into a soft, pleasant smile. Something he’d worn as a magistrate in difficult situations and now perpetually plastered on, a mask he wore to hide the pain and fear that wracked him day in and day out. 

He’d learned early on Cazador had no patience for anything like a show of displeasure. 

The strings bit into his fingers, each one its own little agony. They’d been at this for hours upon hours. Blood dripped from each string, making each note simultaneously sticky and slick. But Cazador demanded perfection. As the final note died down, he glanced towards his master for approval, swallowing the bitterness that such a word came so easily to him now.

Blazing red eyes met his own. He knew that no praise would be forthcoming.

“Your technique is passable, but where is the passion? The joy of the song? Surely you don’t seek to sway me with such a lifeless performance?” every word was mocking, reveling in his slave’s torment. “Again.”

Astarion’s smile didn’t falter, voice coming out smoother than he felt. “Of course, master. Your wish is my desire.” 

[nicksbestie]

Ash teaching Y/N to drum or seeing them drumming and feeling proud

Loved this request <3

Enjoy!!!

Drummer Boy

Pairing - Ashton Irwin x reader

Warnings - none

Word Count - 3583(!!!)

~

You couldn’t believe your life had ended up like this. An incredibly fortunate twist of fate brought you into what you had only dreamt of as a child. A pop star's partner. You had run into Ashton Irwin at a coffee shop while he and the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer were on tour. It had been purely coincidence, and honestly an embarrassing experience that he loves to remind you of. You’d turned around too quickly, rushing, looking down at your phone, and collided with him. Luckily he’d found the fluster amusing, and continued to come in.

That coffee shop had always been one of your routine trips in the morning, and after conversation after conversation, he’d finally weaseled his way into getting your number, and things had spiraled from there and here you were, waking up, albeit alone, in his bed, all of your stuff covering half of the walls and dressers.  

And he was a drummer, no less. You’d always had a thing for drummers. Maybe it was the easy workout they get, or maybe it was just the fact that you’d always had a thing for members of the rhythm section. You know what they say. 

You’d slid out of bed and had walked down to make coffee in the kitchen, not feeling like going out today. Wandering into the home studio that Ashton had created while working on Superbloom, you sat down at the small stool behind the piano. You knew a few of their songs off the top of your head, playing a slow rendition of Lover Of Mine when an idea popped into your head. 

You decided to create a cover of Lover Of Mine just for Ashton. Valentine’s Day was quickly approaching and you thought it would be super sweet to do. Although, you didn’t quite know how to play Ashton’s drum part. So, you would leave that for last. You knew how to play guitar, piano, and bass, so you’d record those first. Ashton had shown you enough on mics to know how to professionally create a demo, instead of just recording and doing overlays on your music app on your phone. 

Picking through specific tabs, you decided to start with the bass ones to record because they’d be the most suspicious to be caught recording. Ashton already knew you knew how to play Lover Of Mine on the piano, so that wouldn’t be a surprise, and the chords for the song aren’t the only song using them, so guitar could be played off easily. However, the bass tabs were unique so that would have to be the first one that was recorded. 

You’d always had a love for the bass guitar. The other half of the rhythm section had always called your name. It wasn’t too difficult to quickly get used to the movement of tabs and the adjustment of holding the instrument, and it wasn’t hard to quickly record the beat of it. Listening over the track many ,many times until you decided that it was good enough for you to move on, you quickly made sure it was saved so you wouldn’t lose all of your work. Not like it would take a while to redo it, but still. More hassle with not enough time in the day. 

Moving on to the guitar part, you remembered the main reason you liked bass better. It was easier. The guitar chords hurt your fingers as the thin strings dug into them, and the chords made annoying buzzy sounds, but eventually you got the hang of it. You’d been playing guitar for years, but you still weren’t a huge fan of it, or amazing at it. It just wasn’t your best instrument. That’s okay though, you mastered the few simple chords fairly quickly, almost finishing the guitar part just as quickly as the bass tabs.

This left the piano and drum parts left. Knowing the piano version by heart, you moved back over to work on it quickly. You got caught up in it, enjoying the way that the keys pressed down under your fingers and the pedal amplified the gentle sound. Piano has always been a way to relax and let stress roll off of you. It was like Ashton’s drumming. He used it as stress relief as well. But piano felt different, in a way. There was gentle piano, like Lover Of Mine, and then there was your angry songs, like Take Me To Church, with the trauma-filled lyrics and the pounding beat to it. You sat, recording the piano parts, letting yourself get lost in the melody, and the lyrics rolling through your head.

Drums. The drumming part was gonna be hard. You didn’t know drums. But you were going to try your best to get it done. It might take a few days, and you might have to ask Ashton for help, which you would have to try really hard to not raise his suspicion about it. He had a creepy way of always knowing what was going through your head, and while this may help most of the time, right now it definitely wouldn’t.

Luckily, he took a lot of interest and fun into showing other people how to play his favorite instrument, so you knew a little bit. But not nearly enough to learn a full song, so you spent hours googling and tinkering with it trying to figure out how it would all come together. You relistened to the studio track and the live versions of Lover Of Mine, trying to figure out just how important the drumming was to the song. (Obviously, it’s very important, but you were weighing your options of seeing if it would sound remotely similar or close enough without the drumming in it. That way you could just leave the drums out and you’d be more likely to get away with keeping this secret until Valentine’s Day, and you wouldn’t have to ask Ashton for his help.)

You slipped headphones on to listen to the track while trying to match the sounds on the instrument in front of you. Time was quickly passing by, as you kept the song on loop, slowly working part by part to make progress through the song. You’d gotten about halfway through, completely oblivious to your audience. 

Ashton was standing there, leaning against the doorway. He’d decided to not make you aware of his existence yet. He’d been standing there for quite some time, watching your frustration and your moments of elation when you finally matched them and got some of the notes and beat right. He knew he’d taught you most of what you were using, but it also made him super proud that you were even attempting on your own. It shot fondness straight to his heart, knowing that you were trying to figure out and enjoy the instrument he built his entire life on, the one thing that he loved the most, second only to you. 

He didn’t yet recognize the beat you were attempting to play, but that was fine. He didn’t need to know everything. There was enough he could figure out with just watching that he didn’t want to disturb you. He did wonder why you didn’t just wait and ask him for help when he got back, but shrugged it off. You didn’t have to tell him everything, and he’d always admired your strong sense of independence. It was only when your forehead lines started to crease in frustration and your mouth turned into a thin line in anger, that he decided to step in. Your back was to him, the door being behind the drum kit. He didn’t want to scare you, so he walked up and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you need some help with that?” 

Despite the gentle touch, you were still a bit startled, not expecting him to be there. You quickly pulled off the headphones and switched off of the tab showing the Lover Of Mine tutorial, hoping desperately he hadn’t seen it. You weren’t quite so lucky. He didn’t say anything about it, but he had a small smile on his face that clearly showed he’d seen it. You were happy he didn’t ask questions. Instead, he just reached for the drumsticks in your hands. 

“May I?” 

You nodded, and let go of them, letting him take them from your grip. You stood up and let him take the stool. He sat down and started to play the song. You had taken a seat on the couch across the room, listening and watching the way he easily hit all the correct notes, all the right rhythms. You were slightly jealous of his ability to easily pick up any single instrument that he tried. You’d never been able to do that. But at the same time it was a talent that you admired in him. Among other things, of course. But it was definitely at the top of the list. He finished the song, smiling. 

“That the one you were going for?” 

You nodded. 

“Yea.” 

“Any specific reason?” 

“Nope.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“You sure? You shook your head oddly fast for it to be a coincidence.” 

“I’m sure.” 

He smiled. You knew he could tell you were lying about it, but he didn’t seem to be too hurt. He was many things, but a fool did not happen to be one of them. He knew there was some secret you were holding, but he wasn’t offended by you not wanting to tell him. He’d always respected your privacy when it came to things you didn’t want to tell him, as long as you weren’t holding back hurtful things. However, he did want to help, if you’d let him. 

“Alright then. Come over here, I’ll teach you to play it.”

About an hour later, you’d pretty much mastered the song. Thank god. You knew full well that you wouldn’t have been able to do it without him, but you were also incredibly relieved that you didn’t completely spill your secret and surprise for the upcoming week when he walked in. Thank god he never asked any questions, and didn’t push you to answer anything you didn’t want to. 

“I think you’ve got it!” 

You smiled. Finally. 

“I think so too. Only took forever.” 

He laughed, a real laugh, not one of the chuckles he forces out in interviews when he’s uncomfortable. That made you so much more relieved. 

“It actually didn’t take that long. I expected more time, to be completely honest. Not like I mind. I love spending time with my two favorite things to do.” 

You gave a playful glare. 

“You really chose that wording?” 

He laughed again. 

“Sorry babe. Couldn’t resist.” 

“You definitely could.” 

It was just banter, there was no legitimate anger behind your words.  

Now, you just had to wait until the next day when he wasn’t around so you could record the drum part without him being suspicious over what you were up to. Which turns out, wouldn’t take that long. Just the next day, he walked into your doorway and gently knocked on the frame. 

“Hey love?”

You looked up from scrolling on your phone. 

“Yea, what’s up?” 

He gave a soft, yet sad smile. 

“I have to go to the studio for a few hours. I know that we were supposed to spend today together, and I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright! I know you guys have a lot to do, with the album release coming up and all the promo. No worries!! Just text me when you’re on your way back okay? We can take a rain check for now.”

He walked over and hugged you. 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You deserve me and more. Go get your work done. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

You were really happy actually, that he finally got out of the house. Not because you didn’t want to spend time with him, but Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, and you had to be able to finish the cover before that morning. Now you would have the opportunity to finish the drum part and the singing part in your short time alone. And that was exactly what you got done. Still remembering the way and rhythm of the drumming, you knocked that out first. You barely made any mistakes and got it done in just a few takes, quickly overlaying it with all of the guitar, bass, and piano cover parts, making sure that it sounded satisfactory to gift. It did. 

You were incredibly happy with the way it was sounding so far, and moved on to start recording the lyrics. You truly enjoyed singing, and had almost gone into it as a career. It was still a heavy secondary part of you. Because of that, you were heavily critical of your own voice. You couldn’t stand listening to it back, which was going to make the recording of it so much more difficult. You recorded triple the takes of every single instrument you’d recorded already put together. You hated the way they all sounded, and you knew in the back of your mind that it was really just your anxiety speaking and that they all sounded fine. However, that didn’t stop the perfectionism in you, so you continued to do take after take until you were satisfied with the results given. 

Finally, you were happy with it, and you moved on to making sure that everything sounded good when it was overlaid and mixed together. It was fairly easy to make sure that all the instruments sounded good, and you decided to just leave it there. You thought the acoustic idea gave it more authenticity and you wanted to keep it that way. It felt more real, more loving. You liked the feeling of it and you hoped Ashton would too. Your phone dinged, right as you were thinking about him, with a message from the devil himself. 

“Hi love, be home in 10. Got everything done, tomorrow is ours!”

“Sounds great. See you soon! <;3”

You quickly finished up everything you were working on, and made sure the demo was saved, but hid it under a folder of other recordings, hoping he wouldn’t look into that specific one later that night. Right as you finished closing everything off and making sure that the drums didn’t look touched, you heard the door open. You slipped behind the piano, pulling up some of the current songs you’d been working on in your free time, gently beginning to play them and waiting for Ash to walk in on his own. It didn’t take him long at all. He came and sat in the room with you, seating himself on the couch and simply listening. The longer the song went, the more a smile grew across his face. As the song drew to a close, you met eyes and smiled back at him.

“I love listening to you play.” 

The smile remained on your face. 

“I could say the same.”

A ton of songs were covered that night, singing, playing, mostly soft loving ones for the upcoming holiday. 

Waking and sitting up the next morning you let out a small sigh of relief. You’d kept the secret until Valentine’s Day. Admittedly one of your favorite smaller holidays. You liked the special days, the ones filled with love and care, even if you both received and shared that same amount of love and care every day. You wouldn’t have settled for less, but you’d never felt like you settled for anything with Ashton. He was truly above and beyond anything you’d ever asked for. You couldn’t wait to show him the gift you’d made him, but you were going to have to wait a bit, for two reasons. The first being that he wasn’t even awake, and the second one being that you had another thing for him. It wasn’t as huge as the cover, but you’d gotten him sunflower seeds to plant in the backyard, knowing he’d been wanting to for a while, along with a card. 

He shifted next to you, rising. His arm reached out, grabbing yours and pulling you back down to lay next to him. 

“C’mere. It’s too early.” 

You laughed. 

“It’s 10:00, goofball. Get up.” 

He shifted, making eye contact. 

“Still too early. Not moving yet.” 

“Happy Valentine's Day to you too, lovely.”

He lifted himself up to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Give me another hour and I promise to woo you.” 

You laughed. 

“Fine. I’m getting up though.” 

He pouted. You relented. 

“Okay, I’ll stay for a bit.” 

Watching as his breath evened out, you waited until you were completely sure that he was asleep. Once you were positive, you slipped out of bed to go set out his stuff on the counter, minus the demo. Doing this, you realized it would make more sense to do it in your home studio room, so that’s where you decided to do it. You moved everything into there, and smiled when you realized Ashton had had the same idea. 

Walking in, there was a vase of flowers sitting on the piano bench, a note taped to them, and a card with your name written in cursive on the front. Deciding to open the card later, you read the small note. 

“I set this up last night after you went to bed. If you’re reading this alone, I probably begged you to let me sleep a bit longer because I hate waking up early. I love you!!! Don’t open the card without me please. <;3”

“I see you found my note.” 

You turned around to see Ash standing in the doorway, hair all ruffled and clearly having just gotten up. 

“I did. It’s been less than an hour though, I’m shocked to see you awake.” 

“The bed got cold without you. Happy Valentine’s Day. Wanna open cards? I got you flowers, obviously.” 

You smiled. 

“Absolutely.”

Cards were opened, and Ashton had the biggest smile opening the small packets of sunflower seeds. 

“I can’t wait to plant these.” 

You laughed. 

“I was hoping you’d be excited. I know you love sunflowers.”

“You’re my sunflower.” 

“Don’t be cheesy.” 

He rolled his eyes. You gave him a side hug to placate him. 

“I have one more thing for you.”

His eyebrows raised in questioning. 

“Okay. Should I be scared?”

You gave a playful glare. 

“No. You should be excited.”

Grabbing the headphones, you handed them to him. 

“You have to put these on.” 

He gave a skeptical look. 

“I’m scared.” 

You gave him a hit to the arm. 

“Shut up and put the headphones on before I revoke my gift.”

He laughed. 

“Fine, fine. Don’t play some creepy sounds.”

You didn’t dignify it with a reply, you just reached over and clicked play on your cover. It didn’t take him very long to realize what was playing in his ears, and his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. 

“Babe-” 

“Listen now, talk later, yeah?” 

It didn’t take very long for the song to finish up, and his face was adorned in such a huge smile. 

“You like it?” 

“I loved it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Wait a minute- that’s what you were learning the drums for?!” 

You laughed. 

“Yes. I had it all planned, I already had the guitar and bass and piano recorded before you got home. You came home earlier than I expected, and I had to accept your help and hope you wouldn’t ask too many questions. Luckily, you didn’t, although I could tell you had quite a few spinning around in your brain. You made my job amazingly easy when you had to disappear for a few hours to the studio for the next day, giving me all the time I needed. You almost caught me recording the vocals though, I had just finished saving, overlaying, and mixing it with all the instrument tracks when you walked in. I was terrified you’d see the nervousness on my face when I quickly moved over to play the piano right as you entered the room.”

He shook his head, shock and amusement on his face. He couldn’t believe you’d pulled this off right under his nose. Well, maybe that was a lie. You definitely had the guts and the persistence to pull it off, and you definitely contain the ability to create the element of surprise. The thing he was mostly shocked about was the fact that you didn’t have the ability to keep a secret for the life of you, so he was floored that you were able to keep this quiet and continue to work on it for two days. Although, I suppose it is easier when he wasn’t even there.

“I can’t decide whether to laugh, cry, or kiss you.” 

You took a few steps closer to him. 

“I’m good with all three, but I’m especially down for the last one.” 

“I figured you would be.” 

He smiled, pulling you a few steps closer for a long kiss. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I love you.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I love you more.”

[heartricky]

dog union - "en garde!"

summary: after choreographing the "artist battle mission" song 'en grade' for the survival show, 'boys planet', you had been asked to come and help evaluate the trainee's performance and give advice before their performance in the following days, what happens when you catch the attention of the youngest three trainees?

a/n: this is heavily inspired by @boysplanetmorelike's story "Let's Win This Love" - I reread it so often omg - but I wanted to change it up a bit to fit the dog union! junhyeon I miss you so much.

word count: 836

As a young choreographer, having dropped out of school to pursue your dream of dancing for a living, finding people that would allow you to choreograph for them was difficult, but thankfully, being given the opportunity to co-choreograph a few of the Kep1er title tracks had boosted your popularity, even having MNET contact you about choreographing a new song for their upcoming survival show, Boys Planet.

Naturally, you jumped at the chance, so happy and honoured to have been given such an amazing opportunity. The song being so catchy had played a huge role in your choreography, wanting it to be powerful and eye catching - even cheekily making a reference to how many hours it had taken you to come up with the choreography in the post-chorus!

After recording the song with a couple of dancer friends you had, you sent the dance off to the primary producer of the show, receiving many compliments from other producers as well on the quality of your choreography.

But apparently, MNET wasn't done with you, asking if you were willing to come and advise the trainees who had been given the song to help prepare them for the 'Artist Battle' mission before the final, wanting to make sure that they performed to the best of their ability. You agreed, having seen a couple of clips of the show before, wanting to see if you could spot a couple of your favourite trainees - you couldn't help it that Sung Hanbin was so likeable!

->

After being given a mic and a pep talk from one of the producers and star master, Choi Youngjoon, who was also going to be guiding the trainees on their performance, you walked in bowing at the trainees who were excited to meet the choreographer of the song they were performing.

"Gunwook-ah, look at them! They choreographed the song? Wow, they're gorgeous and talented at the same time?"

You blush lightly at the compliment, making eye contact with a boy with the name 'Kim Gyuvin' on his chest, telling you his name instantly. He smiled, waving lightly before turning to hit his friend, named 'Gunwook' apparently, happy that you had seen him.

You turn to Youngjoon, who had also witnessed the interaction, exclaiming lightly, "Why don't you boys say that stuff about me? I choreograph!"

Gyuvin blushes lightly at the small dig, not wanting to seem disrespectful, "I'm sorry, master-nim, but look at them! You agree that they're beautiful, right?"

"Gyuvin-ah like they'd go out with you, they look like they prefer muscles!" You hear Gunwook say, flexing his bicep muscles, kissing them lightly before winking at you, causing you to laugh a little, ducking your head.

"No! They definitely want a boyfriend who can make them laugh! Junhyeon is five years old!" A third boy who looks to be a similar age says to you, the aegyo clear in his voice, forcing a pout on his face.

You sit there in shock, not knowing what to do, until Hui, or Hoetaek on the show, interrupts, "We are here to get feedback guys, not flirt with the choreographer!" He rolls his eyes, also finding the situation funny, but wanting to stay professional in front of the cameras.

"Wait!" Junhyeon - you learn - shouts. "Let me ask at least, who is the most good looking here, choreographer-nim?"

Not knowing how to respond under the sudden pressure and attention, you mindlessly point at one of the trainee's on the end, someone you recognised from some clips circulating on the internet.

"Hiroto." You say, "Hiroto is the most good looking."

The practice room descends into silence, but not for long until you hear the giggles of Hiroto, winking at him lightly before coming back to look at the three youngest members.

"No!" "Thats not right!" "You can't do that!" " I asked you between the three of us!"

The boys burst into shouts, clearly unhappy with your response, Gyuvin even going over to pretend to whack Hiroto for what seemed to be for simply existing.

"Okay! Okay, okay." Youngjoon finally intervenes, having enjoyed the situation for too long. "If you are comfortable with it y/n, how about I propose a deal?" He pulls you to the side, whispering a fun plan to you, wanting your confirmation before telling the three teens what he had come up with.

Walking back over to your seat in front of the mirror, you clear you throat before speaking,

"Whoever impresses me the most with the choreography, and who stands out to me the most at the final performance can get my number."

Hoping the small incentive would bring a great performance from the boys, you explain the plan, the three dog-like boys agree immediately, Junhyeon even jokingly voicing out his plan to injure his two friends before the performance so that he would perform the best, but you stopped him before he could actually begin to think about playing dirty.

->

And, well, who performed the best at the 'En Garde' performance? That's up to you.

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

Making Of Monday What to do with plot bunnies.

I've found that one of the wonderful and terrible things about being a fic writer is all the many plot bunnies. They breed, the little bastards, and I'll never be able to write them all, sadly. I do enjoy playing with them though, just letting my mind run wild with a weird idea. They're something positive for my overactive brain to focus on, and for that I'm grateful.

But what to do with them.

Of course there are the ones I choose to work on, the ones that end up being more than just a plot bunny, but those are the special few. There are many that I should kill off, but I'm possessive and can't bring myself to just let them go, so I put them in deep freeze (stasis sleep) so I can find them at a later date. The list is now incredibly long, there are so many small and large iders just waiting for their chance, but I have no idea if I will ever return to them.

A few I've released, set them loose on Tumblr so that they might torment/inspire others, and I should do this more often, but like I said, I'm possessive of them, so it's difficult.

In my note app on my phone, I have a running list where I can quickly write down the pesky bunnies when they come to me, usually at the most inopportune times. It can be anything from a single sentence, or just the title, to something more.

This is my current list: It's far from all my bunnies, as I'm constantly moving them to the deep freeze (a document on my PC) or promoting them into real plot ideas with their own note.

To have one last day with you

Ghost Ship

You're a pretty devil, I have to agree (Halloween fic angel and demon)

Same age Obi Luke Ani

The elven prince and his human, Elver Obi human Ani

To love a god is a terrible and wonderful thing

The dragon in the soul, Anakin turns in to a dragon

In to the woods, Quiobiani, Werewolves, Found in the woods, Forest time strange, Motorcycles

Hig treason, You are found guilty of having assinated the hig Chancellor and will be executed, They found Padmé in the crowd

Bride of the Dragon

Seeking comfort, Padawan and master sleep together, Ahsoka and Anakin didn't know it but with this they continued a tradition in their lineage.

The Pact, Sith and Jedi married every generation So there is this very old peace treaty saying that in each generation of Sith and Jedi two will be designated to be 'married' to maintain peace and balance (this would probably be in a universe where there are more Sith)

The dark fairytales of the galaxy

R2 secret recordings, Luke discovers that R2 has recordings of sex between two hot men and a woman. He shares with Han and Leia… Unaware that it's their parents and Kenobi. Poor R2…

first kiss reveals a soulmate

fan meet, Anakin Obi and Padme are all fans of meet, modern

song fic, you are the reason, in the end

darkness, gone blind, living in darkness, turning to new other senses, the power of sight.

Feel free to ask about these, I would be thrilled, and if there is one you would like to adopt, abduct, make yours, let me know, I need to practice sharing and letting go.

[bokettochild]

Opera House AU: Count of Monte Cristo

Lullaby, after finding out that Time's music skills allow for more than soothing their Opera Baby, decides to hunt for a musical in which she can cast their stunt coordinator so that he has to show off his talents.

She finally finds it, after the opera house has grown some and the youngsters are old enough to be of more help:

The Count of Monte Cristo

Time is dubious, sure, but once she convinces him (with some bribery and the promise that he'll be working with Malon some on this thing) he eventually agrees.

Hell to Your Doorstep has never sounded so amazing, and Time belts it out with all the rage and fury to make Dei himself impressed. Sure, Lullaby didn't get him on stage with his guitar, but he's singing like he used to, and if the Indi-Go's volunteered to feature (free of charge!) so they could back that song? Well, that will certainly draw the crowds in!

Dusk as Mercedes has some side effects (her tears are more real than the most of the others know) but she's too perfect in the role.

As for the rest of the cast, well! Twilight made a fine Fernand, although the military uniform Styla had on hand had to be altered considerably to fit him. It was a bit awkward pretending to be Dusk's husband, but with Legend as Albert they were able to have a good laugh about it (can they stop being cast as a family? this is getting weird, Lullaby, seriously.)

Hyrule made his first on stage appearance as Franz D'epiney, close to Legend's side through most of his appearances, just in case.

Fable as Valentine and Wild as Maximilien was a heart-winning couple (and adorable as all get out)

Warriors got to try his hand at the villain role for once, as Gérard de Villefort, joined by Sky's Caderousse and Twilight's Fernand Mondego. Playing a corrupted lawyer was an interesting experience, but the boys had fun with A Story Told and their various scenes challenging Time's character really were fantastic and full of fire.

Even Dei stepped in to join them, as he so very rarely does. Monsieur Morrel as a result was far...bigger than most audiences were expecting, but his and Time's scenes were surprisingly wholesome.

Wind had a lot of fun being "poisoned" in the ending act, and he very nearly ended up giggling when Warriors' character had to walk in to find his beloved child killed by his wife (Sun). He did an excellent job though, even if he's technically a bit older than the kid in question was supposed to be.

Four even made an appearance as Benedetto, and his charm and rizz sold the character perfectly.

-

There were some difficult scenes of course. The Scarlet Room was one of the worst, and was the main reason why Lullaby didn't ask Dusk to double as Mrs. Caderousse. Asking her to play the woman who had a child out of wedlock and then lost him to her lover was a bit...on the nose (Twilight went out of his way to keep her from getting the role). (Arty played the bitter noblewoman instead and killed it.)

The only scene worse was Haydee's declaration of love for her master, and while Time and Dawn soldiered on, it was.... a lot of work. In contrast, Lullaby stepping up as Vampa was thrilling for all of them. Legend definitely recognized her playing up her Sheik persona, and Time and she had fantastic chemistry in their brief scenes together. None of the audience even guessed she was actually a woman and she loved every second of it.

-

Styla had the time of her life with the costumes and Legend and Wind were equally elated to get to create all the various sets. Wind in particular basically designed the whole ship set himself, with only a bit of advice and guidance from the vet. The whole of the backstage department had the time of their life and the show turned out fabulous.

Fable comments when they're done that she wishes her father could have seen it. He loved this story so much, and the songs Dusk sang... he used to rave about those ones all the time. He would have adored hearing them done such justice...

[takeyourcyanide]

This is going to be difficult for me to coherently put, but I’ll try.

The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical) means a lot to me - which is really saying something. I’ve been religiously listening to it for years now, and I only wish I could’ve discovered it sooner, as little me would’ve been astounded at just how relatable it was. It would’ve been a sort of comfort, just as it is now.

I don’t know if this was what they were going for when writing the song, but it is possibly the most accurate and respectful depiction of schizophrenia I have ever seen within any form of media. And it’s only more impressive if none of the members of the band happen to be on the schizophrenic spectrum themselves.

(A lot of rambling about the lyrics and shit and the song below the cut)

I don’t even know where to begin with the song itself. It is the most profound and excellent piece of art I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. It expertly tells its story through not only what are some of the best lyrics I have ever heard, as someone who listens to everything under the sun, but also through all of the background noises and conversations that even play during the singing itself. The distortions are representative of not only fading, incoherent, burning (caretaker reference), and non-chronological memories, but also the desire to possibly not think of oneself in a certain way or simply not seeing oneself in a particular light (the referring to himself as insane) but being forced to, or struggling to recall one’s memories. The way in which the song builds up, only to hit at the end is masterful. The way in which he begs, he pleads for just a semblance of sympathy and understanding - for the help he has become so utterly desperate for… There are no words that can convey what I’d like to express. The background noises can also be representative of not only the electric chair (various zaps and such), but also hearing whispers and indiscernible sounds at random times (schizophrenia). I love how they depict just how the judgmental, pompous, and stigmatizing nuns, judges, and doctors can ultimately be, especially towards those with a mental illness - like in the lyric “here in my kingdom I am your lord I order you to cower and pray.” In the lyric video, pray flashes between pray and prey, which can be interpreted as both these mental health professionals preying on their patients, especially at the time the electric chair was thought to be a good form of treatment, but can also be interpreted as your own brain preying upon you, you being the prey in its kingdom. Oh and this also goes along with the line “condemn him to the infirmary.” It is detailing how patients are treated in psychiatric wards and hospitals and such, of course. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. They wonderfully depict how cognitive decline feels - how it feels to observe as you agonizingly deteriorate before your own two eyes, and how no one seems to understand what is ultimately happening, simply settling on essentially torturing you (electric chair), not taking you seriously or listening to you because you’re below them and “insane.” I love how, at the end, he says “Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me.” A constant in and out, losing yourself and gaining yourself back momentarily, only to feel yourself being taken away by the static once more. You’re too distracted by the incessant noise, by how difficult it is to simply live to even bother with whatever you used to, only making it more difficult to live - a constant cycle, a constant battle. By the end, there will only be a shell of what was once you. You can either accept their “miracle cures” or die. You can tiene accept their scrutiny or face the most horrifying death imaginable. Because you have to live and watch as you still have your body, but not longer yourself. I love the line “see how your brain plays around and you fall inside a hole you couldn’t see.” Precisely. You don’t even realize when you fall into the hole. Things are just exponentially worse, but it’s as though it’s always been that way, and you know no else. “Please help me understand what’s going on inside my mind.” At this point, you’re willing to accept their medication, their torture, because you can’t fucking take it anymore. It’s a desperate plea. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so different? Why I am struggling so much? You cry out for help only to be either turned away or judged throughout treatment, treated like a dog needed to be whipped into submission.

And GOD do I love “see how the serfs work the ground and they give it all they’ve got and they give it all they’ve got and you give it all you’ve got til you’re down.” BECAUSE YES. Absolutely. You give it everything, but you’re essentially fighting a losing battle. You walked into a war you knew you were going to lose and fought like hell anyway, only to end up institutionalized, or unable to simply exist anymore.

Just every single lyric. Every single fucking lyric. I could go on about this forever with anyone who would be willing to listen. I have more to say.

Not to mention nuns being involved, as religion was often viewed as its own cure if I’m not mistaken, like schizophrenics used to be thought of as demon possessed. It’s clear this is set somewhere in most likely the nineteenth century, as many source say electric chairs/electroconvulsive therapy were in use primarily from the 30s to the 70s. They declined in the 60s and 70s, but apparently saw a resurgence in the 80s. Anyway. The way it begins with the whole song in reverse? Anyway, I am done for now.