#the silver eye character boards

[wanderingwolpertinger]

TSE Valentines: Aperlyne :)

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia( pt.1 Here!)(pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. So much that I exceeded the character limit and need to post Diasomnia in 2 parts. I have favorites I guess :/

Malleus experienced more firsts over the course of three years than the duration of his life. His first board game session, his first group trip with peers, his first taste of carnival food, his first sleepover, his first true friend - so, so many firsts. All a byproduct of one person walking into his life and taking a genuine interest in him.

You were the first houseguest he personally invited over to Diasomnia. Not for a tour, not for business, not on behalf of another - no. You were Malleus' houseguest, there to visit Malleus and spend time with Malleus. The snacks prepared were for you both to share. The lounge seating reserved for your company. His first time hosting for fun.

You were the first person he ever got a present for outside of his family. How quick your birthday had come, and how startled he became to find he cared. You were older. Growing so quick and changing at an alarming pace. He could see it in your features and mannerisms. Malleus knew that humans aged at a much faster rate than fae. Silver sprouted like a beanstalk. Yet you were blossoming like a flower in spring. How long until you'd wither?

Malleus cared. Not out of curiosity, but something deeper. Malleus did not want a servant to pick your gift, not even his closest companions. He desired to adhere to human custom and do the task himself. He did not trust another to pick something meaningful and to your preference.

You were the first to make him laugh. Your humor being like none he had heard before. Others tend to correct themselves in Malleus' presence, or try to cater to 'his' taste. Even those closest to him, often sharing a joke that flies over his head without any explanation. You did no such thing. Your humor was curious, and perhaps a bit crude. The jokes did fail to land with him, but he still found them funny regardless.

You were the first to make him yearn. Malleus had felt loneliness before. He's been bound in it's searing clutches and taunted. Yet his rooted longing never compelled him to change. He never felt jealous. Until your smile became another's and he felt a hot pit in his stomach. One different than his fiery magic.

You were his first desire.

Malleus fumbled and panicked. He had finally found a friend, yet he wanted more. The realization striking him deep. The first want he had no guarantee of obtaining. Yet his need for you was strong. He could not lose you. Malleus begun to value your presence. Your joy. The new life you breathed into him. He held it as dear as his family. You became his fondest treasure.

Malleus needed to ensure that you would never be taken from him. That you would never change.

You were also his first failure. On the dawn of your second year and his graduation, Malleus proposed. He had forgone all customs and jumped straight to marriage. Love to the fae was a lifetime bond. No power could chain you to him stronger than matrimony. Which is why he demanded your presence in the gardens after the ending ceremony. He decorated according to your tastes, with colorful lanterns and firefly lights strewn across the plants.

He saw the hope in your eyes. The way they sparkled with affection and pride bloomed knowing that he was the cause.

“Malleus….It’s so beautiful. Did you prepare this just for me?” You ask, clutching your hands to your chest. He smiles, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a black velvet box in the shape of a rose.

“I’m happy to see you like it; however, I hope this offering pleases you more”

Malleus opens the box to reveal a ring. Your eyes widen owlishly and he interprets it as a good sign. Until you step back.

“Oh Malleus….I can’t accept this. We aren’t even dating!” You deny his unspoken proposal with a shaken tone Malleus’ is unfamiliar with. Not from you.

“Why not? I love you. Is that not enough? Do you not love me?”

He fails to understand why you declined. He spent countless hours studying human customs and expression. No. Studying you. He was confident you returned his affections. So why? Why not leave this place and join him?

You explain to him that you’re incapable of marrying someone you haven’t spent time with romantically. That you do care about him. That you liked him and did feel for him. That you could love him, but not so suddenly. You have friends at NRC and didn’t want to leave. Not to mention how him marrying a human, especially with no warning, would cause so many political problems.

Of course he had already taken all this into consideration. He didn’t care about all that, yet bit his tongue from speaking his mind. Another first for Malleus.

“What if I abide by your terms? Would you allow me to court you properly?” He cuts into your sea of reasons not to be together. They weren’t his concern. Only you.

This gets you. He clearly wasn’t listening. Love blinded the average person, and Malleus’ heart bled. You consider his offer, and agree to his courtship. It would be difficult to maintain considering your distance and his status. Yet they were fickle matters to Malleus.

You were his first failure, yet he didn’t mind. There was no true victory without a bit of labor.

The change that he so feared, it became something Malleus adored. Every time he would whisk you away from NRC, or return for a visit - you were different. You had a new story to share, or had changed your appearance. At first he began to panic once again at how quickly you seemed to evolve without him.

And one day he realized that you would keep changing. He’d see a new you forever. All these new versions. A constant spark and longing that made him realize how precious each one was. They would come whether he bid them to or not - so he had to cherish them. Every version of you was one he loved and lost. Yet the fact that another would emerge kept his heart complacent.

You were his first kiss on a dewy fall morning. You were his first heartfelt dance, dressed in shimmery black satin and pearls that he gifted. You were his first goodnight kiss, and first morning embrace. You were his first comfort after tragedy struck and his first sympathetic heartache. You were everything.

It was no longer about chaining you. He loved his firsts. He would forever remember them.

His first goodbye.

On the cusp of your 3rd year coming to a close, Malleus prepared the ring from two years prior. He would gift it to you after your graduation. It would be yours whether you accepted the meaning behind it or not - the ring could go to no one else.

An announcement arrives to him the week prior via pen and paper. Hand written by you and oh how he so loved your letters. Malleus opened it with calm delight, yet as his eyes traveled across the words he forgot how to control his strength. The paper alit in flames.

‘The Headmaster found a way to send me home. Would you come for a visit?’

The letter was not so blunt, but that’s all he could comprehend. Malleus was not ready to say goodbye. He once thought his greatest fear was to watch his flower wilt, yet now it must be cut to make a bouquet.

As much as it tore him apart, Malleus had to let you go. He couldn’t root you to soil forever. His hands unconsciously drift to the velvet rose box tucked safely in his breast pocket.

It’s only natural you’d be the source of some of Malleus’ lasts. He would never love another.

He joins you days before your ceremony. You explain to him the procedure to return, and he bites his tongue once again. He encourages you, and is happy that you’re happy. The ring burns a hole where his heart lies yet he continues on with grace, ignoring the cautious behavior of your peers whenever he’s around. The only opinion he cared for was yours, and he’d stay as long as you needed.

Malleus missed the way your heart sought his. The way you gave him chance after chance to ask you to stay. How you clung to him despite the roles normally being reversed.

“I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you,” you whisper, holding Malleus’ hand and glancing at the glowing portal behind him. Malleus smiles, his eyes softening as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I will never forget your heart,” he murmurs against your skin, and reaches into his breast pocket with fluid movements. Malleus places the velvet rose box in your hands, cradling them gently with both of his.

“This is yours. I had it made for your finger alone, and only you will be the one to wear it. My heart belongs to you. Let this be my final selfish wish, but I hope you will think of me when you look upon it”

Malleus doesn’t understand why you break down. The way you clutch the box to your chest and look at him with such pain. He thought you wanted to go home. Is it not what you waited so long for?

He cannot be strong when you’re crying. How can you be so cruel. He won’t be able to -

“I want to be with you. I love you,” you whisper yet he hears it perfectly clear.

Malleus’ heart stutters and he clutches your shoulders. With one hand he tilts your chin up to look at him. Your eyes splotched with red irritation and glassy with sorrow. He wipes at their edges with his thumbs, cupping your cheeks ans looking at you for any sign of doubt. Any insincerity or fear. Your expression from years prior still lives rent free in his mind…he would not risk your happiness for his selfishness.

He finds nothing and pulls you in his arms. For the first time, Malleus sheds tears born from love. From relief. He wraps his arms protectively around you, and tucks his chin over your head.

“If you love something, let it be free. If it was meant to be yours then it will come back willingly. This is a saying of humans, is it not? I could not have you at the cost of your happiness. You do not deserve such a tainted love…but if this is truly what you desire, then I will not cease my efforts. You are mine, and I will eternally be yours,”

{Malleus’ ring is hand crafted by the royal blacksmith. Some would assume that there is a ring passed down through generations of the Draconia bloodline. There is not. The fae do not follow such traditions, yet Malleus would not instill all his values onto you. If it is a ring you need, then it is a ring he will get. He decides to reforge a gem plucked from his mother’s staff. The ring is made especially for you, with a teardrop-cut of magic-infused emerald as the focus point. It’s enchanted to reject any hand other than your own, and morphs to the size of your finger. It is subtle, made of pure gold, and a symbol of union between fae and mankind.}

"One should never make a vow of eternal love lightly. Take it from someone with ample life experience"

Lilia often imposes advice without any prompting. The musings of an old man normally went in and out of people's ears anyways. Sometimes it takes experience to learn, and no matter how we try to warn our children - fate is fate. They will go through the motions just as the people before them. Especially when it comes to trials of the heart such as love and loss.

Lilia knows both intimately. They've forged the man he is.

Philia: Love of friendship and equals. His peers, his comrades in arms, his fellow fae. The friends he has lost through death and distance. Those he fought to protect.

Storge: Parental love. To raise the son of his closest friends, and the blood of his sworn enemy. Lilia has fought through loss to feel the gratification of fatherhood. Lilia loves his children.

Agape: Love of man. This one took work. It took losing all he had, and then losing more. Hundreds of years of healing and trying to be better. Even in his final stretch Lilia is still learning this love.

Eros: Passionate, unconditional love. Lilia has felt this once, and only once. The wound still fresh with a dribble of salt steadily halting the healing process. To feel eros is a beautiful thing, but to have it ripped away is enough to kill.

Lilia experienced his fair share, and now enjoys watching those in the prime of life seek out love. He doesn't engage in romantic gossip, but enjoys watching others live their lives. One of his biggest curiosities being you, oddly enough.

This is because you've shown no interest in feeling love of any kind. Being the nosy man he is, Lilia finds your dismissal of others a bit concerning. He's not the most open person himself, yet you're a young human. This is when you should be wild! Surely you must feel something, considering all the 'escapades' you've been on with other students. The best way to bond is over shared trauma - he's not endorsing it. Just stating a fact.

"It's nothing personal. I'd rather not get too attached considering my living circumstances, if you catch my drift" you say in response to his prying.

He indeed 'catches the drift' and sees a bit of himself reflected in you. You were not unkind, yet also not overzealous. You did not push others away, yet also made an effort to protect yourself. For all the kind deeds you've done, Lilia knew better than to think it a case of bleeding heart syndrome. You remind him of how he was when deciding to raise Silver - afraid and very good at hiding it for the sake of others.

He decides to step in against his better judgement. If anything to repay the kindness you've done Malleus and his two youngsters. He couldn't watch you waste the precious life you’ve been given huddled away in isolation. Lilia would become your confident, as he is the most equipped to endure inevitably bidding farewell. If anything he will encourage you to forge stronger bonds of your own accord without fear.

He does an outstanding job at being the extrovert adopting an introvert. His favorite hobby being to startle you - popping out from random places like trees, bushes, the ceiling, your closet, etc. So much that you grow accustomed to his antics and expect them. Going so far as to always carry hard candies in your coat pocket as a peace offering.

He invites you to play online video games, go shopping, and sometimes pops by your dorm with Malleus. However his visits soon become solo, sensing that his adopted son didn't enjoy his 'nightly stroll' with his best friend being invaded. Lilia didn't mind - it meant that he'd get your company all to himself! There was nothing like watching a few horror flicks and tormenting Grimm after them. You even had a guest room in case he felt too ‘lazy’ to fly home.

On your birthday, he bakes a cake and leaves it on your kitchen windowsill. You found it, and even thanked him 'happily' later that day. He never said he was the chef though....you must have quite a keen sense of taste! That or he must be so talented that you know his cooking by heart!

Lilia felt a sense of relief, seeing your mannerisms shift from neutral to happy as time passed. It was hard work ebbing away at those walls of yours. It's not good for humans to be stressed. It lessens their already short lifespan.

He really should step aside. Let you befriend more humans and people that will support your journey. Except he doesn't want to. Philia's taken root in his heart - you're now a friend. An actual one.

So...he doesn't let go.

You join the college's boardgame club, and Lilia feels honored that he's the first you ask to play with. Each time you sought his company made him feel young again. Thrills did tend to follow your wake after all.

You often spent many evenings teaching Malleus, Silver, and even Sebek about your world. Not something Lilia planned for, but seeing you open up about it put his mind at ease. The different cultures, history, trends - Lilia listens in happily as well. Going so far as to learn some of your favorite recipes. He wants to cook them right away, but agrees to wait for your company. You grew nervous when he brought the topic up, possibly because you didn't want to be left out? Surely, that must be why.

Soon comes another January 1st - Signifying a new year and also Lilia’s birthday. The night prior he was out on the prowl, flying free throughout campus, watching people party and celebrate. Normally he’d spend this evening having fun of his own, but being caged at a school left him little chances to be free. Jumping across rooftops and sneaking around doing parkour was a trip down memory lane. The fireworks and lively people made for an excellent atmosphere.

By chance he happened on your rooftop, and decided to pop in for a quick respite. Slipping in through an open window was child’s play, as was avoiding your paranormal houseguests and popping in and out of rooms.

His keen hearing picks up your voice coming from the main bedroom - and normally he wouldn’t invade a personal space but the door was open. So obviously it was an invitation. He sticks to the ceiling and crawls to a shrouded corner with a mischievous grin.

How unsuspecting you were - dressed up in fancy clothes and muttering to yourself while in front of a floor length mirror. Lilia thinks you’re going to a party and is prepping to tag along -

“Alright. I can do this,” you mutter and turn around to pace the floor. A neatly wrapped present is clutched tight in your hands - wrapped in ivory paper with a sparkly pink ribbon. Lilia freezes just when he’s about to jump down, and clings back to the wall. “Just give it to him. Give it and tell him how you feel,” you turn towards the mirror, holding the box out, “Hello there Lilia. Yes, this is a birthday present. Yes, you’re a year older, how exciting! By the way I really like you so would you want to go on a date?” You fall silent, cringing in disgust at your reflection before sitting on the bed, “Ah. That was such dogshit”

Lilia exits as swift as he entered. The night air whips against his skin as he transforms into a bat and is already on the way back home. The implications of what he just witnessed weighing heavily on his mind.

This would not be the first time someone has caught feelings for him. You don't go 700 years without any suitors - he'd always turn them down with careful consideration.

Except he doesn't want to this time. That's the major issue.

The flight home was long, with purposeful detours until he felt tired enough to retire. A familiar bitter ache stung his heart. He'd only felt this disappointment once prior, and swore off letting it bud again.

Eros.

Lilia was in love too. He recognized the passion growing long before this moment, and against his better judgement let it fester.

"Seems I'm not as equipped to handle this as I once believed" he says to no-one and moves to play some online games instead of sleeping.

Lilia once felt a love he couldn’t express through anything other than fealty and devotion. It was a darker time where there was no promise of future. He swore not to endure that pain again - yet this is similar yet also different. The love is blooming effortlessly. His devotion is growing. The desire is there and so is the fear. All the same feelings yet without the dire weight of external forces adding pressure. This time it’s his choice to follow through. There’s no bigger force at play stopping him. Not even your mortality, considering how his lifespan is almost at its close.

Yet for all his years of wisdom, the thought of putting his heart out was still as frightening as the first.

In truth, Lilia had ulterior reasons for pursuing your companionship other than worry or repaying a debt. Your behaviors did remind him of his past self. That was no lie. He simply felt affection blooming upon your first meeting and thought having your friendship would morph it into something more tame. He had a habit of drawing in lost souls - what was one more?

Now the affection is stronger, and you return it.

Heavens, was he being given another chance? After all these years.

You return it. It's requited. He needn't hide it for the sake of someone else's happiness. Lilia could be selfish, if only he let himself.

The next day, Lilia finds an ivory box with a sparkly pink ribbon outside his door. A neatly written letter is attached, with the words 'Happy Birthday' written on the front. His name is written on the tag in black ink, with your name signed as the sender.

Lilia picks it up and undoes the wrapping with nimble movements. Inside is an assortment of treats that he wanted to try from your home, and a neatly folded letter atop them. It details exactly what was expected, a perfect explanation of your feelings that's entirely different than the nervous display he intruded upon.

He looks around the hallway, checking to see if you’re nearby before disappearing without a trace. Nothing but an open door showing that he left.

Everything after is a blur. While doing the dishes back at your dorm and trying not to think of the present - Lilia appears out of nowhere, startling you for what was probably the first time in months. His typical cheeky grin and snicker were nowhere in sight.

He says one thing, “Are you certain?”. The words held a heavy meaning for the both of you.

Asking if he’s willing to go for one last chance. To take one final risk or simply be satisfied with all he’s accomplished thus far. It asks if you’re willing to do the same - to risk everything you’ve built in one fell swoop.

You nod, and Lilia smiles. Not an impish smirk or a snarky grin. A true, soft smile that is full of released tension. He happily hugs you from behind as you finish working in silence, gradually slipping back to his playful ways yet not entirely. He would remain the out of touch peepaw that you so loved to tease him as, but a bit of his youthful spirit was being revived. His inner self being healed, perhaps.

He loves you, and the world hasn’t split in two. It was his time.

Finally.

From then on he had no reservations in loving you. This was a new form of eros. A new passion filled with joy and living for the moment - versus the weight of time holding him back like it did when he was younger. Nothing changed in your dynamic other than he now had the strength to let himself love freely.

Which is exactly why he wastes no more time. Just as he told you off hand long ago, one should not make a vow of eternal love lightly. He’d take his own advice and seek his own happiness for the first time in hundreds of years.

On a random night with no inkling of warning, Lilia drags you out of bed to the Ramshackle rooftop in nothing but your nightclothes. It wasn’t the first time he’d ask for a midnight escapade - just for the thrill and surprise, most of the time. He loved to keep things exciting.

Except he was being far too gentle. Far too nostalgic. He sits you down on the edge of the roof and puts his cardigan over your shoulders. Not a word passes between you as he tucks it snug around your shoulders - his hand tracing the line of your cheekbones, down your arms and to your hands. He cradles them gently, never taking his eyes from yours.

Then something foreign glimmers against your finger. In an effortless motion, he slipped the ring on without pause. You can’t help but stare at the gem in thought, looking between it and Lilia’s thoughtful expression over and over.

Lilia nods, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the ring - admiring it against your skin.

“I’ve lived many years. Lead many lives. I thought I had accepted my nearing end, yet I find myself wanting more. I want to grey with grace at your side. To enjoy mundane evenings - greet you come morning and kiss you to seal a day’s end. I want my last life to be at your side, if only you will have me”

{A blood red garnet placed inside a blossom frame. Lilia’s ring is made of silver, and gives the illusion of a red rose in a bed of vines. Red is the color of passion, devotion, and unconditional love. Red roses hold this very meaning in the language of flowers. Lilia has felt this before - but you are his fated. You have chosen him simply for the person he is - not who he needs to be. He can finally be free and at peace. Your love is something he can selfishly hoard and it gives him the desire to enjoy life. He feels full. Happy. He hopes that this ring shows that he wants to live for the moment by your side, eternally}

[insufferablelust]

The Prince Regent (Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader)

{Can be read as the sequel of Gevī}

There are rumors floating around after the march of the greens in Rook’s rest, you were shocked when you learned of what has happened, rushed to confront your brother— you were made to once again quell the madness within with rekindling the fire with him.

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Words counted: 10.4k+

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex at the council chamber), Choking, Rough sex, Dumbification, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of violence, Canon injuries and death, Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names, Slightly Dark!Aemond (He is so obsessive and possessive and feral of you.)

Note: Hello! I am back with new fic yay! this is another Aemond fic, which can be read as the follow up of my last fic, Gevī which can be found here, or you can also read it as a standalone, up to you! This work is NOT beta’d (there will be revision) since once more I am still slammed with work so I have yet the time to refer to my beta reader, but hopefully there is nothing much amiss, if there is, I apologize and I hope it will not disturb your reading experience. ALSO AEMOND IS UNHINGED IN THIS ONE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The day has been moving rather slowly today, you mused, the sun looks as though it is shining but overshadowed by gloomy clouds at the same time— horizon darkens as the end of the day is fast approaching. It has been a strange day, oddly quiet even in the hustle and bustle of a dreaded war-coming, you had heard of your brothers whereabouts, both the King and the Prince as your mother was panicking earlier when they both were absent from the small council meeting.

You ignored the ever so loud chattering of the lords and ladies around the hall, as you sat below the Weirwood tree to read your book, the only place where you ought to sought comfort and refuge from the looming darkness that follows ahead, you had always been more receptive— taking in your surroundings and only use your sharp wit when necessary, you are like your brother, Aemond, in that sense, where you do not find pleasure in talking much if it does not have any meaning to it.

Though, you had not been silent since the days following Aegon’s crowning, your expertise in knowing Westerosi territories and politics are often seen be used by the small council as Aemond would come to you in any instance he needed help. You also always tried to interpret Helaena’s cryptic messages— having realized of your older sister’s ancient-like gift since you were little, it was you that had warned them to move the crowning ceremony anywhere but the Dragonpit when she had said “Beware of the beast beneath the boards.” Yet when they do not paid attention to you nor your sister, tis’ true that your family was one second away from being engulfed in Meleys’s fire if not for the Princess Rhaenys’s last minute compassion.

But alas, you had not been of useful as of late, ever since the passing of your nephew, Jaehaerys, you scolded yourself often on why you were not with Helaena that night, or why you did not have the time to interpret what she had said about the rats, though, Aemond had repeatedly assured you that there was no way that one can know such cruel thing would happen, and that there was nothing you could have done— moreover if you had stayed with Helaena that night, all your lives might be even more in danger due to the fact that you’re a young maiden.

You still feel guilty though, for you had been spending your night in the arms of your husband that night— comforting each other in warm embraces inside your chambers.

You and Aemond had always been inseparable since the day you were born, his little sister— someone he had always come to whenever he was faced with a hard time finding solace due to the constant torment and taunts your eldest brother and nephews has caused upon him. You can scarcely remember the times where Aemond is happy in his childhood, but the memories that stood the tallest in your memory are ones akin to when he would read to you about the Aegon’s conquest or Rhaenys’s journey to Sunspear, or Visenya’s tales with Vhagar.

Another one is when he had ventured through Maegor tunnels to get to your room and would ask timidly to sleep in your room because he was plagued by nightmares, or that time when he had come to your defense as Aegon broke one of your crystal jar, one that housed the famed rose from the North, or that time after he claimed Vhagar, eye sewn shut in Driftmark, you had visited him in his chambers despite your mother’s warning to let him rest when you know better that he would feel better accompanied by you. Tis’ unbreakable this bond of yours, strongly linked, and undoubtedly passionate.

Aemond finds all the thing he is not, in you, you are gentle, soft spoken, soothing in nature— even as your hair is as silver pale as he, your jaws are as sharp he, your wit are as bright as he— Aemond adored the part that truly empowers you, your compassionate self, your jaw-dropping smile, your unmasked confidence, your unapologetic self is what makes him honored to have you by his side.

Your presence calms his raging stormy minds and hot tempered self, your sweet saccharine voice, your angel like touches, your supple smooth skin— always seems to be flustered in heat when near him, your soft lilac eyes that gives him assurances, your slightly curlier locks— something you get from your mother, always half braided with half fanned to your side— the necklace you wore, given by him, a Valyrian ruby that always adorned your enthralling being, you are the epitome of a Valyrian goddess, graced with the beauty that people would go to war for, solicited by your intelligence that makes you powerful altogether. The word ‘infatuated’ does not even cover his love for you.

Speaking of your brother, the days following his return from Storms end had caused many distraught upon learning of what befell your nephew, in the flurry of it all, Aemond had taken your maidenhead, which he swore to wed you then— and that he did, asked his mother to betroth him to you once and for all as you had always meant to be— insisting after the death of Jaehaerys that it is crucial to have more heirs so that if the time comes, your bloodline will not perish so easily— Alicent, of course, had been furious at his son for, “How dare you corrupt your little sister!” but when you came to Aemond’s defense, she let her guard down and at last grant you both what you wished.

The deal with the Baratheons has been annulled… for now.

You both were wed in the sept just a few days after the tragedy, and were happily consummating your marriage if not for the news of Ser Cole and Gwayne Hightower’s success of house Darklyn in Duskendale, and is set to march to Rook’s rest once more, where Aemond is to to join him, he had told you once after an intense rounds of fucking.

You were finally pulled out of your reverie when the chatter around you gets louder, feeling irked by it you look up from you book only to have your frown wiped out by the sight in front of you. You saw few of Aegon’s knighted guards bringing a huge wooden box covered with your house’s sigil— Gods be good. You have thought of the worst then, what if it is Aemond? what if they are carrying his de—

“Princess, Her Grace the Queen Dowager has requested your presence in King Aegon’s chamber.”

Aegon?

“Thank you, Ser Harrold.” You replied, clutching the book tightly as you stand up, and walk towards where the other knights and seemingly hurdles of Maesters rushing to, your throat dried at the possibilities of what might await you once you reach Aegon’s chamber.

Is he alright?

Is Aemond alright?

Did they defeat the Blacks? What happened in Rook’s rest?

“Mother.” You muttered as you halt your steps upon reaching the now packed room, your eyes does not yet know where to land it’s sight on, the frantically moving figure of Maester Orwyle tending to a charred body on the bed, or the hisses that came from the servants who brought fresh linens, cloths, and water, or at your mother who stood with panic written all over her face, eyes glassy with tears.

“What has happened?” You asked, still unable to figure out exactly who is it that laid there, due to the hurdling of bodies taking pieces of armors off. The smell of burning and dragon fire is so evident, that the ladies around you scrunched their nose— you thought none of it considering you are no stranger to the smell of dragons— but what caught your line of sight next shocked and silenced you quickly.

There laid the King, your eldest brother, Aegon, with half of his face badly charred, his body littered in wounds from fire— the sight of him like that makes you choke and sob as you lean against Alicent who also watches with terrified eyes, “Is my son going to die, Maester?” Her shaky voice only enhanced the amount of tears you let out, lips trembling in confused emotions.

How did— who did— why did—

“I will do whatever I can to help him, your grace, but now I must get back because this is the most important step.” Came Orwyle’s response. You may despise Aegon for his lack of respect towards anyone— women in particular, but he is still your brother, your king.

“Why isn’t Heleana here?” You asked, turning your head to look at your mother, “and… Aemond?” came the question that have plagued your mind since you were fetched by Ser Harrold earlier in the Godswood, is he alright? did he suffer the same fate? did the blacks charred him too? I can not live without him, he— I cannot—

“Come.” Your mother beckoned you out of the chamber to sit by the bench near the Weirwood tree you sat earlier, your eyes are frantic, trying desperately to understand what is going on, what happened, and most importantly if your brother— Aemond is alright, “I can not call for Helaena… she—“ Alicent’s voice came with a choked sob, it breaks your heart seeing her like this, after seeing what befell Aegon, you understood that this is hard for her regardless the way how anyone feels about him, your brother, her son.

“I can not put more burden on your grieving sister, you must understand that only you can do this.” Her irises stabs right through yours as you ponder her words, digesting on what she could mean by ‘do this’— you understood why Helaena wasn’t called first thing to Aegon’s chamber despite her being his Queen, his wife, the reigning monarch in his absence, due to her still sullen with grief, but then it all clicks for you.

Ah.

This is about Aemond, if Helaena is your mother’s pawn to strengthen Aegon’s claim, then anything linked to you have always been, will, and must be about Aemond.

Only you,

You’re the only one that can soothe Aemond, calm him, hear him, understand him, discipline him when needed, tame him when necessary.

Only you that can release the ever glooming glorious tension that has risen and finally reached its peak between the heirs— one who was born first as a male heir, and the other one who is actually deserving of it by power and knowledge.

It’s you, his soulmate, his other half— it has only been you and everyone knows it, even your sister whom have said you are meant to fill the socket of the eye that Aemond has lost, you’re the missing piece in his tormented soul, the very needle that threads his wound, heal his anger, and cool down his temper.

But before you can open your mouth to respond, the sound of clanking armor once again reached the both of you and a voice boomed through the otherwise serene peace of the Godswood, “Pardon me, Your Grace, Your Highness, but the small council has gathered, and has asked for the presence of the Dowager Queen.” the Knight spoke, causing you to sigh and drown the words you had meant to speak of.

“Very well, I must return but please,” She looked at you feverishly, “My love, you need to talk to him, reason with him, because he will not do so with me.” Your heart once again breaks at that, yes you may have not had the fondest of love for your mother solely because she was too busy preparing Aegon, being queen in your father’s sickness, and feuding with your half-sister to care for you but alas, just like Aegon, she is of your blood, she is your mother— knowing she feels powerless to aid her own children, so much so, she asked for her youngest daughter’s help is a sorrowful thing to witness.

“I will, mother, now go.” You said, pulling your best smile to soothe her, the tresses of your silver locks blowing in the wind as she cup your face to kiss your forehead before fleeing to the small council chamber— leaving you with your thoughts once more, deserting you to quell over your confusion, with no comfort of assurance or security— you need Aemond, and he needs you, but how can you both reason with him when he is not within your reach, you just seek to know his safety and shield him, Helaena, and your niece of all this— but alas,

Did he do it?

Did he burn Aegon?

Is his desire for power so great that it quenches whatever left of affection you all had as siblings?

What will you do?

You love Aemond, you love him more than anything in the realm, your bond with him as strong as the bond you share with your dragon, Valyx, you do not and will never betray him— you had remembered his promise of making you his Queen, that the realm will bow to both of you, that his love for you is so great that it will be more than enough for him to fight and relinquish in victory— but at what cost? You had half the mind to seek Helaena, to ask for her guidance but that thought is quickly diminished by knowing the fragile state of your sister after Jaehaerys’s passing.

No, you will have to speak to Aemond, whatever result it may produce, whatever madness awaits you, whatever turn of story that may arise— you have to be ready for it, willing to face it, conquer it— for you do not wish for harm to ever come to those you love, to Helaena, your niece, your mother— and most importantly Aemond.

You just hope the Gods will grant you their blessings and forgiveness to what you will do or don’t do.

—

You had waited hours outside the small council chamber, pacing in front of the huge grant door, thinking and pondering on what you must say to Aemond, what you will do to reason with him. Your thoughts are plagued with the memories of your last encounter with Aemond, not that you can help it, it practical branded itself to you— He had always branded himself to your memory with everything he said and does.

It was the night after his small council meeting had gone awry, well according to his recollection— Aegon had once again undermined his knowledge and acted foolishly, not trusting his brother’s judgement, Aemond laid down on your lap, as you caresses his hair, his patch is off now that he is alone with you, in your chambers, with you only wearing your lilac shift and he, a tunic pants.

“Zȳhon mition yne amīvindis.” He had said that night as the flame dances through his iris and shappire— there is that unquenchable anger in him, you felt it miles away even before he laid on your bed, you knew that he was furious by the way he stormed to your room at the hour of the wolf, you had been sleeping when he entered, but quickly made way for him beside you. His stupidity infuriates me.

“Aegon?” You asked as your fingers cards through his hair in a soothing manner, you wish you can take away his pain, his worries, his fear— but Aemond is a hot tempered man, who will not be denied of his desires, who will not back down from a fight, who will never cower in silence, “Hm.” He hummed to you, “He is your king.” You humored him, passing a chuckle to the wind.

“Not for long.” Your fingers halted as he looked at you, trying to process what he just said, you knew your brother is hungry for power— for his throne, but it has always been a blur to you just how he was going to win— especially with Rhaenyra’s looming threat of war now, “Aemond…” You whispered, a distraught look is evident on your face, your rosy lips pout like it is begging for him to kiss you feverishly— to claim you once again.

“Do nor fret, sister,” He said, eyes sharp through yours while he bring his thumb up to your lip to press down on your ever so cute and tempting pout, what a tempting little tart, he thinks, “I do not wish to bring upon the ruin of the realm,” He pushes his thumb slightly in, you gladly open your lips to take the tip of his thumb inside and suckle on it as it is your lifeline. Your eyes closed for a second from a comforting gesture it brings you, he knows this calms you, content you— “Unlike Aegon.” He whispered the last part before completed parting your lips with his thumb so you can suck on it with little mewls of contentment.

He cooed at your subdued state, gods, he does not care of anything but to serve you— give you the realm as you fully deserve, his queen. Beautiful, untainted, pure, and the very image of both the Mother and Maiden bestowed upon a figure— you, you and your flustered self, you and your cherry lips, fluttering eyes, smooth silver locks, body of a goddess, a personality of Eve, charm of Rhaenys, dream of Daenys, fierce of Visenya, and soul that is unique to just you. He worships you more than you know, but he will show you— he will always show you.

“There you go, sweet girl.” His voice both soothe and heat up your core, and it catches you by no surprise when the night ended with you both tangling atop of the bed, with you on your hands and knees, his hand against the back of your neck— as he fucked your cunt with a varying pace of both a feral madman, and a devout husband— yours. You had been naught but a whimpering mess, a shaky shivering little girl overwhelmed with pleasure.

He had worshipped you then, kisses you softly on your skin as he brings you to your peak over and over and over again with his fingers, mouth, cock— every inch of him is solely to make you feel heavenly, so much so, that you are sure that your vision had gone blurry and you slumped onto the bed as he took care of you.

Your mind was quickly pulled once more from your thoughts when you heard the door of the small council chamber had finally been opened, you stood diligently to the side, waiting for your husband so that you may speak to him. You watched the lords move outside one by one, bowing to you when they catch you, which you had curtly but politely nod, until Lord Larys Strong came to your line of sight.

“Princess, how nice it is to see you.” Now you have never hold much disdain towards those who does not deserve it, and though Larys had never done anything to you personally, you are but know how much a rat he truly is. Indeed, he is an intelligent cunning man, known for his whisperings and cruel deeds that, even you, do not wish to know—but for the sake of the crown, you begrudgingly smiled, “Likewise, Lord Larys.” The fingers behind your back is picking at your cuticle in stress, Gods where is Aemond.

“The Prince Regent will certainly be delighted with your presence, regency is not an ea—“

“Regent?” Your brow furrowed at the mention, head spinning and running by a thousand miles— “Aemond… regency?” You asked, desperately trying to figure out what in the Seven hells happened and what has been done by it, “Yes, your highness, he—“

“Larys, may I speak with my wife in private now?” His voice came from inside the room, and you can scarcely see his figure emerging from inside, he is wearing his usual black attire, adorned with a green coat as a sign that he had been riding Vhagar prior, your eyes slipped to see the now two dagger on his side, one each, and your lips twitch with shock as you spot Blackfyre on the scabbard, you can not mistaken it, for it is one of the only two mighty Valyrian sword left that belongs to your family. Aemond had watched you gawking at him with an aura of eerie calmness to him, the sight making your spine curled and skin shivering.

This is all for you, sister, all I do is for you, he wants to say.

Your stare fled from his dagger up to his calm form, the way he holds so much power even when he is just standing there, with his arms behind his back, legs parted, head tilted, and lips pressed into a thin line—your violet eyes went up up up until his own gleams into yours, heating what feels like a suffocating heat around you. You continued staring into his eyes as your heart thundered inside your chest, you do not even notice that Larys had said his farewell and had left you both alone, at the entry of the council chamber— or at least you thought you were alone, before your mother’s voice spoke from behind the door— caught your peripheral vision.

“What are you doing here so late, sweet girl? have you had supper yet?” She asked, hands coming up to cupped your cheek in her otherwise cold hand, she’d been furious, you mused, eyes fleeting to the red marks on your mother’s finger, it seems that old habits die hard, “I wish to speak to Aemond, mother.” You bit the inside of your cheek at the way you almost whimpered his name— yes you are confused and possibly angry at him right at this very moment but he is your husband, the love of your life, your other half— you are also drowned by worries and fears of his safety, especially after seeing the state Aegon is in.

“I need to know he is well.” and safe and I just want to run away with him where no one can find us, I wish this madness can stop and be in peace with him— but you do not say that, no, you just smiled softly at your mother upon hearing Aemond hummed at you intriguingly, almost like he is both amused and mocking your sense of worry.

He knows that you know he did what he did.

Good, he thinks, let you see that he would burn the realm down for you, he would sooner die than to give you any less than what his wife, his precious sweet sister deserves.

“Very well then, I shall check on how Helaena is doing.” You do not miss the way Aemond’s lips twitches at the mention of either your sister or your eldest brother, his stoic self is evermore transparent yet foggy all the same for you to read, “Tell her we send our well wishes…” It’s his turn to speak now, eyes never leaving your figure with his voice ever so so alluringly gentle, “and to Aegon’s recovery, of course.”

Your spine curled at that, the invisible hair on your skin risen at the chill and smugness of his voice— Gods, Aemond… what have you done.. that’s all you can think but moreover, what will I do with you.

Your mother left you both at that, yet you can’t find it in you to move or speak to him, the slit on your dress passes the breeze seeping through your skin, the neckline that came above your breasts seems so tight now as you take desperate breaths to calm yourself down— you both just stared at each other, his, with longing, love, affection, you you you.

Yours are filled with the same longing, same love, same subject of desire yet there is a glint of confusion, uncertainty, and doubt swimming in your eyes— not to spite him or put distrust in him, he knows that, he knows you best— He knows you are just confused, a darling little pet you are, even when thrusted with so many responsibilities at the time of war, you still have that innocent childlike self in you that cowers in his gaze, that is desperate to seek good in the midst of destruction, that is curious, always seeking his approval, his assurances. It warmed him, for he knows that, only he, can assuage that building turmoil inside of you, only he can ease your pain, assure your worry.

“Come.” He said, Aemond beckoned you inside the council chamber with two flicks of his fingers, you followed suit, hands cold in front of you— blood of the dragon yet cold hands, he always muses to you often time he warmed you up, ah you do always love his warmth, engulfing you with security and love, comforting you the only way Aemond can, you longed for that, and you know he longs for it too.

“Aemond..” Your lips trailed as the door closes behind you, there Aemond stopped in his tracks, leaning against the table with his hand perched back against it, lips turned in an amused smirk with his head tilted.

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to focus.

“Aemond…” You said once more, walking closer to him but stopping just few feet away, keeping a respectful distance— not that it mattered much, if he wanted to— and he does— he could have you so easily, manhandles you right here right now, bending you over the very table he now commands and pound you to oblivion, releasing his pent up rage and frustration in that sweet sweet cunt of yours, “Hm?” Aemond merely hummed at you even when his mind conjured up the most obscene things, he has to have you, he needs— “Speak, little one, I am listening.” He grinned with mockery, which made you huff and stomp your feet like you used to do when you were a little girl, yet he finds you so sweet as you do it, only making his heart soar with love and desire for you.

What are you doing to him, little girl?

“What has happened?” What he would do to wipe that pout from your face, why are you testing him so far today, his little nymph, “It was a successful operation at Rook’s rest.” He replied calmly, making your blood boil as you scoffed and shake your head disdainfully at his remark, “It was foolish, reckless even—“

“Did we not took out the largest looming threat?” He pressed on, edging you to be angry with him, “It was a worthy effort, a worthy price.” His eyes twinkle when he see your heating face— such an angry little dove, you are, what a temperament that has long been subdued by your years of princesses duties, causing you to retract back to a shell— though he knows better, that you and him share the blood of dragon and fire in you.

Let it burn, sweet sister, let it burn and we shall emerge from the ashes.

“A worthy effort? your king is at the teetering edge of death.” You bit your lip to suppress your anger, let it simmer but do not let it boil to overheat, “What of Helaena, Aemond? she has just lost her son, and now you’ll take away her husband too?” You tried to reason with him, eyes fleeting from his yes to his puffing red lips back to his eyes.

Focus, fuck, why can’t you focus.

“What do you take me for, sister?” His tone is accusatory, eyes sharply glared at you, if he was annoyed before, he is furious now, “You accused me of treason, is that it? deem me a kinslayer?” You tap your feet below you, a sign that you’re either nervous or irritated— maybe both at this point.

“You said it, not me, Aemond.” It was a pitiful attempt at trying to not think of him that way— even in your anger, you still want to find the good in him, but dearest sister, alas your soulmate is one paradox only you can understand, one cursed being you can love, a match to your own fixation, “Tell me you did not do it.” Your eyes held so much hope in them, pleading and begging for his assurances. He truly would do anything to destroy anyone that make you this worrisome, but if it is him, then he shall do what he always did, to declare his love for you, so immense that he can do naught, but serve the realm on a golden plateau for you.

He closes the gap between the two of you, standing tall over you, leaning his head forward to press his forehead against yours— breathing with rage with his warm palm coming up to cup your jaw, a possessive gesture, served only for you, there is so much passion between the two of you that your mind gets hazy and fuzzy with it, “Sweetling,” He breathes, once, twice, three times, “What have I told you over and over, hm? what did I promise to you?” His words thrum against your skin, with your bones stilling itself in the desire to melt into him— become one with him.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven, nor the Old Gods can never deny us.

“There will be nothing left for us if this madness do not cease, Aemond…” You whispered his name, eyes prickling with sharp heat beneath your eyelids— forcing you to close them shut even when you do not want to, “I am terrified.” You muttered it out of desperation and pure fear and that troubles Aemond, oh no no, his little girl, how has he been so blind to your cries.

He can feel his heart tugs with pain, his stubborn self is telling him to soothe you, calm you down, relieve you of your misery that is looming fear, oh little dragon— he hadn’t mean to scare you, only to show you his dedication, for who will he show it else to if not for the most important person of his life? he would not have find it in him to even claimed Vhagar, if it were not for you, you’re his source of life.

“Look at me.” That was not a request from him, but a demand, one you so eagerly followed, “You have me, what are you so terrified of when you have me?” He punctuates each of his words with pressing against you harder, your body jolted lightly as your rear hit the edge of the table after being spun by him.

“The war—“

“If we march together, our power will not easily be subdued— tis’ what needs to be done, and I will be ready to do it, risk my life so we will prevail. Would you not have done the same?”

“I would, you know I would.” Your eyes remained close throughout his declaration, eyes trying to frantically stop your tears but alas, it is a useless pursuit, tears flows down your cheeks at a faster rate than you’d like, at this Aemond cooed, wiping your tears, “You and I, we can have what is ours, sweetling, what has been ours since they took our eye.”

Our eye, he says, not mine— “You’re the missing eye that fills his socket.” Helaena once told you.

“What of Aegon?” You opened your eyes at him, holding his stare as best as you could even when he took a sharp breath and press his thumb on your pouty parted lips, “Aegon rushed to Rook’s Rest to proof his worth despite the better judgement offered by the council,” He paused, nose nudging into yours where you can feel every single allure that drips off your husband like its second skin, “He challenged Meleys, got overpowered, and I had to come in to save the armies… as I have intended to do before he so recklessly join in with Sunfyre.” His lips are touching his thumb now, the only thing shielding your petal bloomed parted lips with his.

You should be concerned by his statement, for you know Aegon would not ended the way he is now if Aemond had actually meant to ‘save him’, there is something else, you know he would not kill out of spite even with the years of insults and torments that Aegon himself, had bestowed upon your brother, he would not deliberately kill him, yet the intention to hurt is not lost on you.

Meleys is a strong dragon of your house, a battle trained one at that, but still not enough against the mighty Vhagar, that fought alongside Visenya on Dornish war and conquer it, let alone two dragons— but perhaps, you have naught but pressing longing now, your impulses seems to control you— your innate desires taking over and you can only do what your heart and body wants, never mind what your mind says, it matters not, you’re his, he’s yours.

You leaned impossibly closer to him, urging him to take away his thumb against your lips by tugging on his wrist as your glistening eyes look up at him with desperation in them, his humming is slightly cold, but you know better that its full of mirth— he is teasing you.

“I suppose now that I am in charge…” He tilted his head menacingly, pressing his lips upon the gap of your brow, hold you tight to him as he took in your rose oil scented skin, how heavenly, he thinks, “You ought to call me, your grace, isn’t that true, princess?” His thumb slipped inside your rosy lips then, the force is too heavy to bear as you sigh and suckle on the tip of his lips— eyes fluttered shut, “Uh huh.” Your lips parted from his thumb with a lewd pop!

“Your grace.”

Your eyes flit open, droopy with want, heat on the apex of your thigh is ever so persistent against the now soaked fabric of your silk smallclothes, Aemond eyes are sharp— ravenous as he stared at you, “Syz riña.” He purred. Good girl.

Having no more self control over him, Aemond use his free hand to hold the side of your neck— lightly pressing on the pulse point, enough to make your head dizzy, and presses his lips on yours with so much want, need, pressure of claim-claim-claim and mine-mine-mine.

If there is one thing about Aemond is that he’d never be denied, not when he was destined to claim the greatest dragon in the realm, not when he is supposed to sit on the Iron throne, and certainly not when he’s going to have you— no, you’re his, since you were bare as a babe, to now, his beautiful sweet girl of a wife.

Fuck, he’s achingly hard just at the feeling of your lips, body heat, and thought of your sweet flushed face. Gods be damned.

You gasped at the feeling of his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking— no, demanding you to part your lips by biting at it— not too hard, yet enough to make you squirm on the ledge of the table, as your pretty pink raw lips parted in obedience, he wasted no time to push his tongue inside passionately— exploring your oh so delectable wet cavern like a madman, whilst you mewl with the lightheaded feeling of his grasp on your throat and his tongue battling, or more like conquering yours.

Your body is now dangerous low to the tabletop behind you as your nails fisting weakly at his leather tunic, a silent plea for him to give you time to breathe, its pure instinct he knows, but how can he deprive himself of you. Your melodic whines, the way your pink lips parted and indulge him so so sinfully, the way your chest heave with each gulping breath you try to take, and the way you clench your thigh, oh yes he knows all about it, little girl.

After you slap at his chest for a few times, Aemond finally relent, parting his lips from your now cherry bitten lips— you take big gulps of breath, gasping for what seems to be minutes after he released you, your head spins and you’re sure your knee would not been able to hold your figure even against the table if not for his strong grip on both your neck and waist.

“Come back to me.” He whispered, temple pressed against yours as you let out soft whimpers at the heightened pleasure of fuzziness in your head— just him him him, just Aemond Aemond Aemond, “I— please.” You can do naught but to plead with him, eyes watery as you stared at him—lips trembling, wanting to say so much more, please claim me, fuck me senseless, please make me forget that this realm exist, make me only yours, make me your queen just as you promised— but he knows, Gods he knows you, he knows what you want, he always does.

“Please what, sweetling?” But does it thrill him to no end seeing you so desperate, so needy for his touch that you’d beg and beg—Seven hells, not only is his heart thundered against his ribcage, but his cock is painfully aching at your dewey flushed face, “Use your words, zaldrītsos.” His words might be encouraging, yet his tone is anything but— its mockery, he is taunting you and it makes you drip down your legs. Little dragon.

“Touch me… please.”

You gathered all the voice you have left, even if it is just a mere whisper that sounded more like a meek mewl, “I am touching you.” He said, his fingers trails up and down the sleeve of your gown, making you shudder with want— tiny wantons of needy whines escaped you as his fingers trail upon the material of your silk covered breasts— nipples pert with peaking desires.

“Not— you know where I want your touch…” The frustration embedded within you forced this snappy remark of yours, one he clicked his tongue at, just like he always did when you were little— when you had eaten all your lemon cakes in a single sitting, when you would hide beneath the grassy slope atop of Rhaenys’s hill, when you would constantly fuss to keep his wound clean, so much so that you had stayed whenever the maester came in to change his dressings albeit the warning from your mother. It’s the click of the tongue that signifies not only to remind you of disobedience, but it holds a stronger purpose to know that he so affectionately loves and ardor whatever it is you do, even when you are being a fussy bratty little thing that you are.

“Being an impudent girl for me will not serve you well, I had thought you know this by now.” He shakes his head at you, fingers trailing backwards to slowly unlace the neat tying of your ladies’s work on the bodice of your gown— all the while brushing your half braided silver locks to the side and lean forward to nip at your neck causing you to gasp.

Oh he wishes to bend you to him, but moreover to protect you, all the same, as he did when he would wipe the lemon frosting from your lips, or give you his last candied sweets, or grip your wrist to lead you back to Maegor’s tunnels to not incurs the wrath of your mother, or clasp a hand to your lips to keep you from squeaking as to not alert Aegon of where your whereabouts— it is all meant as a testament of his often unspoken devotion to you, and you know it.

“Aemond—“ You are unable to mutter anything let alone an apology as you feel your gown slides off from your body down as it pooled on the ledge of the table— only held by how your body is pressed against the stone table, now only clad in your thin silk shift and smallclothes, you felt so exposed, your neck snapped sideways as you looked at the door behind you, it dawns in on you that you are in fact in a room where someone could just walk in, and found you both in the state of lewdness, “Aemond, not here.”

“I am the Prince regent, I shall do what I please, where I wish.” Came his reply, you can do naught but shudder at the deep rumble that is his voice, at your small gasp, Aemond continued to press soft almost gentle feather kisses on the exposed skin of your pulse point, down your jugular, to the base of your neck, behind your ear—“Ah!” You can feel him chuckling at your voiced pleasure, he knows you like the back of his hand, which spot makes you tick and jolt— you arch your back when he suck and nip at the sensitive skin, ever so reactive to his touch, you are.

You always are, little dove, like you are made to respond to him— his voice, touch, kisses, pleasure, demands— each and every single one of his decrees.

Aemond palm comes up to cusp your flowery breasts next, fondling the soft skin with your buds firmly against the calloused skin of his palm. He then rolled the blossoming darkening buds of pleasure between his index and thumb, causing you to grip onto his biceps, “Mm Seven—.” You tried your best to remain sane but alas, you never were to begin with, nothing is ever normal nor sane but you could not care less, not when it is him.

He chuckled at your oversensitivity, mouth slide down from the crook of your neck to your stern collarbone, before reaching the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you menacingly as he takes one of your pert bud into his mouth to suckle on it as you yelp— hand clutching his doublet in desperation, you are sure by now that your smallclothes is not only drenched but soaked from the way your cunt pulse with each second going by.

“Doñus riñus.” He murmured as he littered marks all over your now flushed skin, moving to the other neglected nipple, applying the same treatment of pull-tug-suckle on the poor overstimulated bundle of nerves. Sweet girl.

Aemond released your now reddened bitten tender buds with a loud pop! causing blush to once more darken on your flushed skin, he smirks up at you then,“Lay down, ābrazȳrys.” wife. He lightly push you downward against the stone table, you shuddered lightly when your heated skin met the cold surface, your eyes are glistened— wide yet droopy with needy innocence as you stared up at him, eyeing him as he removes his breeches slowly.

“Aemond…” You whined and pressed your thighs together when he keeps on teasing you by undoing his laces way too fucking slow, he knows it will drive you mad especially since your drenched tight cunt is inviting him oh so warmly— fuck, he thinks, you looked like the Maiden and Mother has painted, created the perfect goddess of the realm, silver locks wildly splayed on the table, with your braids almost undone, and your body glistened with thin layer of sweat and some of his spit, skin flushed with his markings on you, “Fucking temptress little slut.” He groaned as he stared at you panting.

Your puffy cheeks are heated with lust and neediness, your eyes stared at him like you always did when you sought comfort or wisdom from him— the same way little you had looked up at him whenever you beg for his remaining sweet treats, or when that first time in your reading chambers, oh how you had asked him so so sweetly to touch you— open and take your maidenhead like a good obedient little girl you are, how your bitten raw lips is murmuring pleads to him as if he wouldn’t give you what you want— oh his poor little darling, always wanting more more more.

Then his gaze fall down the swell of your breasts, the way it rises up and down with each breath you take, inviting him to suck and nip at the tender buds once more, and when he dropped his sight to your fluttering folds— he bit his lip, hard, for the view is both the most sinful obscene yet heavenly thing he could ever have witnessed in his lifetime, there you lay, ready for him, ripe for the taking, and the center of your pleasure is weeping for him to take care of you— to take you.

“Gevie.” He whispered as he drank his fill of you— you, the embodiment of a Princess, a Queen— all in name, nature, body, spirit, and soul, everyone should worship you, for he can swear to the Seven that you are holier than any deity common folk would pray to, you are not just the core of his being, but the essence of his vitality— his his his. Beautiful.

Aemond wastes no time to drop to fold your legs so he can enjoy his treat, he grunted before leaning down to kiss the inside of your mound— hand holding to your hips and one on your thighs to keep them there, his hold is stern enough to let you know that if you were to move them, oh little one, there will be consequences. You tried your best to keep them there as he press sweet lingering kisses all over the very surface of your folds, all wet and begging for him.

You gasped at the sudden sensation of his fingers parting your warm heat gently, making way for his tongue to spread the wetness from your opening up up up through the soft muscle then to your pearl, focusing on the now reddened and hardened nub with teasing licks and not yet a suckle on the oversensitive gem for he knows you would crumble and reach your peak oh so suddenly— no he wants to keep you on edge for a little longer, having you on that teetering insanity, controlling your pleasure as he pleases.

But when he does let up and suckle on the raw pulsing nub— you let out a sound akin to that of a scream, somewhere between a loud needy whine and strained moan— causing him to grunt, sending vibrations through your core, you jolted at the feeling, arching your back to pull away from him but causing a grinding effect instead— you clasped a hand on your lips to stifle the wanton sounds you let out.

“Ah-ah, do not hide from me now, little one.” He rasps against your cunt, you had half the mind to be bratty and yank his hair for causing you to be so so messy, but you only bit your tongue to halt yourself from getting yet another bruises from the last time you were bent over his knee— which was not that long ago, having been ridiculed on yet another Aegon’s quest, combined with your snappy attitude had him seeing red.

“Enough.”

“No.” You raised your eyebrow at the fuming man standing tall over you, having you crane your neck just to look up at his sharp eye and the mean clench of his jaw, “Thread carefully, sister.” He warned you, tilting his head that should’ve been an indication for you to stop— but alas you wanted to push him, to see the limit that is Aemond Targaryen, if only there is one— you rolled your eyes then, biting the inside of your cheek in an act of defiance. Oh now you have done it, little girl.

You barely seen him coming for the next you knew, you yelped as he manhandled you over his knee on the bed, both of your wrists are behind you, tightly gripped by his much larger ones— “Let me go.” You whined, trying to tug free of his grip only for him to chuckle darkly, “You wanted to test me, push me, and now you shall see the consequence of your misbehavior.”

“Aemond—“

“Ah-ah, if you wanted me to treat you like a whore, all you gotta do is ask, darling.” You clenched at that, letting out a squeaky gasp at the way his voice resonates through the room, “Hm, lets see if we can put that mouth to a better use than running your tongue like a tart.” With that he pushed two of his free digit to the inside of your bitten lips— down down down until it rests against your throat.

You looked up at him with teary eyes, heated cheeks, and lips wide open with his fingers stuffed inside of you— both preventing you to speak and constrict your air intake, causing your head to get fuzzy— not dangerous just flying on that mind space of him him him, Aemond notices your now cloudy lilac orbs and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead— all the gentleness short lived, however, when he freed your wrist from his grip to press a loud impactful swat to your cheeks causing you to yelp against his fingers.

“Now lets see if your dumb little head can count for me.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you feel the stinging white noise of his slap against your folds— yelping as you feel your peak closing in, “I’m close— please please.” You writhed underneath him before he gently shushes you, taking one of his hand and intertwining it with yours, whilst he enters your wet warm opening with the other— a finger slides in, before a second joining the pleasurable stretch.

“Tight little thing, you are.” He shakes his head between your thighs but your ears are ringing too loudly to register anything right now, mind so so hazy with cunt so so overstimulated, meanwhile, Aemond continues his ministration on your pearl, suckling on the poor nub with vigorous attention, “Mmnh, I—“ You can feel the height of your pleasure come crashing down on you, stomach tightening with heat, too hard, too much, so quickly.

“Let go for me, sweetling.”

You obeyed at his command, as you always do, a good girl you are always do as he wishes— your peak was a long one with you letting out a silent scream followed by plethoras of his name and chanting ‘ah’s’ and ‘oh Gods!’ as he savor your release.

The man above you grinned as your body shake beneath him, having one of the hardest peak of your life, he pulled his fingers out of you with a satisfied smile— a proud one at that, having to see your essence coating not only the tabletop where all the lords that serve him now would sit to discuss the runs about the realm, about his reign but also covering his fingers. You’re a delectable delight, perfect molded whore, carefully shaped nymph for him. His.

Aemond stands up, intertwining both your fingers together to guide you to sit up— having been near insensate from your heightened senses, he had to support your spine as you shakily face him again— and his sight of you is one he can only describe of all Seven heavens in itself. You, a mess you are, silver hair mused and wild as if you had been on Valyx back, it cascades down the plane of your shoulder and back, your face is flustered, eyes droopy, unfocused, and lips, your lips pulled into a drunken kind of smile.

Oh, he has gotten you in a place where all you can do is take what he gives you. Fuck.

You, sweet pliant you, in the daze of your peak welcomes him gleefully when he presses a passionate kiss on your lips, feverishly moving your lips with his, you gasp as he bit your bottom lip, tongue entering to enter your wet cavern once more, before parting with a lewd pop! sound, “Syz riña.” good girl.

The gentleness of his actions are short lived though, Aemond smirks before you feel him manhandled you around, and bend you over the cold stone table, causing you to gasp in both surprise as well as feeling the chilling sensation on your tummy and up your overstimulated chest area, “Shh, no fussing.” He scolded you as if you’re a child, but his stern tone alone made your knee goes weaker.

You can hear the sound of his breeches being untied behind you, the sound alone has your neck craning to the side, your head pressed against the table and drags one of your leg upwards to graze against his legs, smiling to yourself in a post peak-haze state, “Hurry.”— that soft giggly voice of your demand surprises Aemond as he chuckled behind you, shaking his head at the gentle brattiness you let out.

“Aemond!” You yelped when you feel his hand coming down on your bottom, not once but three times in loud harsh succession— you lift your legs once more not out of teasing nature but to quell the pain and the oh so good feeling that comes from it, your cunt clenching around nothing as you arch, “Little girls who ran their mouth will not get anything but this, you hear me?” He said, palming your now reddened tender skin roughly, though the sensation makes you whimper.

“Of course you’d love that too, filthy girl.” He gives you no time to process his words before he tap the now hard leaking length against your opening, which makes you whine lewdly, he is pushing just slightly in, but not enough to even get half of his tip in, making you cry out in frustration, “Kostilus, lēkia.” Please, brother.

“Hm, I do love seeing you beg for it.” He hummed, pressing a kiss on the skin of your back, before breaching the tight opening of your cunt inch by inch, “Fuck, missed this tight cunt.” He grunts, feeling the way your walls sucking him in inside your warm heat.

The stretch caused you to wail and mewl “Tis too much—“ and, “too big!” if anything, the sound of your protests and the contradicting clench of your cunt around his cock is making him more feral— almost animalistic in how he thrusts harder inside you, before burying himself deep deep deep, head nudging the opening of your cervix with just the right amount of pain from the pleasure of being opened by his length, and pleasure from the way the curved tip hit your spongey spot with ease.

Aemond does not let you breathe much it seems, as he begin his fulfilling assault on your battered cunny, thrusting his length oh so deep before pulling, then slam it back in with vigorous pace, hitting all the right places even when his width alone made you shudder near your peak, “So good— oh!” You moaned, closing your eyes and arching your back, to which he responded with a hand yanking your silver locks tightly, the impossibly deep arch of your back has you both drunk on the feeling.

“Take it, take me.” He moaned in your ear, not once does he relent in his pace, always fucking into you harder, pounding you into oblivion, so much so that your cannot care anymore of who might heard what the of you are doing in the very same table he now commanded, he now holds the highest marble rank, the thought would exhilarate you further if you had not been so consumed by the way his cock reach your sweetest spot over and over again.

“Let them hear you, sweetling— fuck, let them know who you belong to, who is in fucking charge.” His words have double the meaning, that you can interpret perfectly, for he relinquish in the knowledge of claiming you, owning you, which you happily obliged, but he also needs to hear it from you that he has deserved this place, as the Prince Regent, that he has fully earned it, and shall lead the realm as his own.

“I belong to- Ah! you, My Prince…” Your voice is shaky in the wake of your nearing release, your velvety walls involuntarily clenched around him when his hips stuttered at the revelation that is you words, it seeped into his skin, thrumming along his veins— his grip on your hair and waist is tightening, for you are sure that your skin would be covered by his love marks by the morrow, but you did not care, let them see, let them know who rules the Seven Kingdoms, and who is steadfastly stood by his side, his Queen.

“Ao nykē perzōñi iksi, ābrazȳrys. Hen prānot hae mērȳ zālagon indīliks.” You and I are made of fire, wife. We have always been meant to burn together.

“Issa! zaldrīzo ānogar, Īlvon qumblī iāris.” Yes! blood of the dragon, ours runs thick. You replied in the midst of your clouded mind, his declaration has made you seen the stars that for a moment you thought you had been flying through the sky with Valyx, yet make no mistake, for his hips driving into you, and the way he snaked one of his arms down around you to rub at your pearl, instantly ground you back to earth, “Va sȳndroti vāedroma.” Joined as one. He whispered deeply, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Come for me.” He rasped deep in your ear, that was the last restraint you have on you, as the combination of the never ending pounding of his cock inside your now oversensitive cunt has you curling your toes, the feeling of his fingers rubbing quick circle over your now engorged reddened nub has tears running down your face so prettily, so messily, painting the perfect picture of a ruined slut just for him.

You came with sobs escaping your lips, the plethora of whimpers of his name heightened the pressure inside the now sex smelling room, the sound of steps are loud from the grounds outside the keep, so does the sound of the occasional knight’s armors clanking, but all of that escaped your mind— too dumb speared on his length to give a fuck, your eyes closed as his hips faltered, feeling him shake above you at the telltale sign of his own impending release, you smiled drunkenly at the knowledge of your effect on him, “Give it to me, please, fill me up,” You mewled softly, finding every bit of your strength left to urge him, “Give me a babe, Aemond— mmh! let me give you an heir.”

Aemond groaned loudly at your words, “Fuck— fucking shit.” You have no idea what you have said to him, sweet girl, you have no idea how the thought of him marking you, both bound by blood, vow, and his seed inside you, does to him. You have no idea how much he wishes to always keep you full of his come, so you may be swelled with babes, because then nobody would ever question his claim over you, nor claim over the true line of Targaryen blood that is deserving of the Iron Throne.

He thrusted inside you one more time before stilling himself deep— so fucking deep inside you with his tip nudging your womb, and releases his seed inside of you with words of lewd affirmations spilling out of his lips, “Good girl, gonna watch you swell with my babe.” and, “Take it, little one, I’m yours— fuck!”

Your neck craned to the side as warmth filled your insides, smiling and biting your lips at the overwhelming sensation of both searing pain as well as being completely full of him, claimed and mark by him, undoubtedly his, “Avy jorrāelan, valzȳrys.” I love you, husband. You muttered, his eye still closed and his lips peppering small kisses along the plane of your back and your spine.

After some moment of calming down basked in silence, with only each other’s deep breathing, and him humming high Valyrian to your ears, he then slipped out of you, before turning you around and carry you to the where the chair for the King, or in this instance, the Prince Regent is located.

He sat down on it, with you laying on top of his lap in a fetal position, the crown of your head is tucked safely under his chin whilst his palm caresses the skin across your back and arms softly, “I hope I was not too rough.” He murmured against your hair, kissing at the messy silver strands lovingly.

“You were…” You mumbled, looking at him mischievously, he raised an eyebrow at you- biting the inside of his cheek awaiting your response, “But I like it.” Came your reply, cheeks flushed once more at the way he muttered something akin to “Fucking hell” under his breath.

“Aemond—“

“I will never put you in danger.” He said, eyes boring into yours, full of hope, full of promises, “Do you trust me?” His voice came out with a hint of vulnerability to you, almost like he bares his neck for you to bite if you so please.

You frown at this, “Of course,” You put your palm on his jaw, “Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” Vow spoken through time, of darkness and light. He smiled at your words, have long he had dreamed of binding your blood in the tradition of Old Valyria, he is perhaps the perfect devout son that worships the Seven, yet he is also very much connected to the blood of the dragon as you are with yours. Tis’ something he have vowed to do with you once the realm’s stability comes back.

“Do not be afraid.”

“With you? never again.”

It is true that you longed for nothing more than to be with him in a world of your own, in a world where there is no more bloodshed, in a realm where peace is known, no green— no black, just you and him— but you also know that it is wishful thinking, for you all have a part to play, you included, as Helaena has said before, if your part is to be the eye he had lost, if your part is to be his anchor, his devoted wife, his sweet sister, his lover, his destiny, then by his side is where you shall be.

For it is better to go to Seven hells and back with him, then to live in agony without him.

You’re bound by vow, by blood, by wounds, by heart, and most importantly by that invisible string of everlasting fire. You are meant to burn together.

[shoyoist]

thinking about the blue lock boys buying you a necklace with their jersey number engraved on it :( and writing your initials on their clear but specifically their dominant foot cause they just feel closer to you that way :( like you’re helping guide him to the goal :(

content: gn reader. fluff !! — competitive and possessive dynamics. pro football player! characters (they all made it out of blue lock alive alright). + i added a little bonus section at the end, hehe<3

— . ｡˚ ♡ the whole world watches, while he shows you off as his own <3

BACHIRA, REO, YUKIMIYA, AIKU, KAISER.

a necklace with his jersey number dangling on it, like a charm. he gets it custom made for you, in sterling silver or 24-carat gold, depending on your tastes. but he doesn't let you know that he has it, waits for the perfect moment in which he can surprise you with it.

which happens to be right before his team lines up for a final match, on live TV at the big arena, with all lights, cameras and eyes pointing right at you both.

he's getting in line with the rest of his teammates — the commentators and cameras paying full attention to him, the star and powerhouse of the team, going “there he is. the deity of the field!” as he walks onto the field, smile already on his face when he looks up, for the world to swoon over.

he's handsome. you think, standing at the very front row, dressed in the pretty clothes that he'd got for you just last night, matching the colours of his team. he looks the best when he's on the field, fully confident in the fact that he's going to be going home with a new medal around his neck.

what you don't know is that you're about to get something around your neck too, before he wins his game.

“excuse me,” he says smoothly, to the coach and the few staff members that surround him, glancing knowingly at the cameras recording him (and looking into the eyes of all the fans that are watching him on live TV) before he saunters off, heading to the edge of the field where you're standing behind a display board.

it's clear that he's staring at you as he walks over — gaze softening as he meets your eyes, watching how your own eyes widen with surprise and a hint of shyness, as the surrounding audience erupts into whispers.

“sweetheart,” he grins at you, stopping on the other side of the perimeter board — and you blush when the audience gasps, blush when he gives them all another glance, before smirking down at you. “got something for you.”

he holds his hand out and shows you what he has hidden in his fist — a necklace with his jersey number on it, spelled out on a charm.

the crowd continues to get louder, and you can make out some people's cries; are they dating? god he was taken this whole time? and the commentators join in, declaring into the speakers that your boyfriend seems to be taking a minute to give a gift to a little someone special—

and you blush harder as you stand there, almost frozen as he gently puts the necklace around your neck, the metal chain and charm cold but somehow blooming warmth on your skin as it touches you.

“with that outfit, you're matching the whole team, hm?” he smiles at you, so overwhelmingly charming. “so you keep this necklace on for me. let's everyone know you're here for me. yeah?”

“y—yeah.” you try to look down, so fucking shy under his bright gaze and gorgeous smile, but he grabs your chin and lifts your face back up to give your lips a little kiss.

the whole stadium erupts into cheers and screams. he kissed you on live TV. your face feels hot, you think you're dizzy — but you manage to hear him faintly over the buzz in your head and the screaming of the crowd as he pats your cheek before jogging off back to join his team in line. “cheer for me, won't you? i'll win this game 'n take you out for dinner after.”

SHIDOU, KUNIGAMI, ISAGI, RAICHI, BAROU.

has your initials written on the side of his cleats, on his dominant foot. even better actually — he got you to write it for him. he wants it done with your pretty hands and in your pretty handwriting, that's so much better than his own.

thanks you and gives you a kiss on the side of your forehead, when you finish it and hand the shoe to him. you're both knelt together on the floor of your shared place, and the look in his eyes when he kisses you is so tender. “i'll score every goal with you in mind, a'right?”

and every time he's on the field, fire in his veins and the never ending lust and hunger for a full victory in his soul, he gives you a glance as you jump up and down in your special spot in the stands, cheering for him with all you've got — and that's when he zeroes in on the ball.

the look in his eyes is anything but tender then — hyper-focused, bright and vicious is how he watches the ball as it slips from the opposing player's dribble, and it's impossible for anyone, whether from the other team or his own, to make it to the ball before he does.

he lunges forward once he gains control of the ball, a sort of heat already spreading through his dominant leg as he advances towards the goal to shoot — and with your initials on his cleats and your pretty smile on his mind, he thinks he can break the limit.

he's never scored a goal from this distance before. with the game about to close, it's crucial that he doesn't take any risks and ensures that his shot scores a proper goal.

otherwise, his team might lose. failure was not an option.

but with your presence — both physical and emotional — fueling him, he takes the chance. he takes the chance, puts all the force he has in that sculpted, trained body of his, and he shoots.

he shoots and he scores.

the commentators and crowd go wild alike, screaming in joy over the secured win, because with five minutes left on the clock there's no way the other team can catch up any more — and your boyfriend ignores the cheers of his teammates, turning in place to face you.

“he scored! god, he's undefeatable!” the commentator's voice echoes through the stadium, and he thinks yeah, that's right. he cannot be defeated — not when you're there to guide him to the goal every single time.

he turns to you, and you wave your arms in the air, calling out his name and yelling out an i love you! — and with the TV overhead showing the scorer off we he stands on the field, you can't miss the way the corners of his mouth lift in a smile.

i love you, too. he mouths back to you, with every other person watching the game in the world to see it.

NAGI, CHIGIRI, RIN, OTOYA, SAE.

he kisses you after every game that he wins. and he makes sure he scores the final goal.

it's an elaborate contest that he has with himself, and the rest of the world has joined in on it. you sit and wait in your reserved seat in the stands, the smoothie he had ordered for you sitting empty in your hands as you watch your boyfriend weave past defender after defender — the audience and every other player all focusing more and more on him as time ticks by.

the match is currently at a draw — and the other team is fighting with everything they've got to guard him, trying to prevent him from breaking through and scoring that final goal.

but your boyfriend isn't so easily countered.

even when he's playing laid-back, he's a demon on the playing field. he's fast, agile and he doesn't take any chances. and now? with only a few minutes left before the penalty round, he's set to score the winning goal.

“will he break through? will he be able to make it this time?”

he almost spins around to scoff at the camera. of course he's going to make it. he always does. the other team nearly swarms him as he closes in on his shooting range, but what they aren't aware of is that he doesn't need to be in range to make his shot count.

his play style is all about breaking limits. which is what he does, when he shoots from nearly the other side of the arena and watched the ball curve smoothly yet maintaining an impossible speed, past the goalie's reach and into the net. the timer buzzes only seconds afterwards. “and he scores the final goal yet again!”

the crowd cheers, and while the commentators remark to eachother that they all know what's about to happen next, your boyfriend walks over to where you're still seated expectantly, hopping easily over the perimeter boards to get to you.

you get up then, and he curls a hand around your waist and pulls you in, pressing a kiss into your hair as the audience coos in response to the show all around you. (he'd kiss your lips, but he's sweaty right now and he's not sure you'd appreciate a mouthful of salt).

and he sighs, unresponsive when you chide him for being arrogant, and mutters into the shell of your ear, “mhm. let's go home, baby. 'm tired.”

[theriverbeyond]

how do we know in the books that john is indigenous? can you say more about how his indigeneity is important to his story?

hello! so there is a word of god post on race (doesn't mention John but mentions that Gideon is "mixed Maori"), BUT I frankly don't think word of god statements are worth any weight without actual in-text support (see: the "dumbledore is gay" situation). SO!

Specific evidence that John Gaius is Maori, as revealed in Nona the Ninth:

When he is listing his education, John mentions having gone to Dilworth School (John 20:8). Dilworth is an all boys boarding school in Auckland and accepts students based on financial need instead of academic or sporting achievements. Demographics appear to be about 70% low income Maori boys, indicating that it is highly likely that John is Maori

John reports that P- said he looked like a "Maori-TV pink panther" (John 15:23) when his eyes turned gold. Maori TV is a TV station that is focused primarily on Maori culture & language revitalization, with presumably all or mostly Maori hosts, and tbh I don't see why P- would say this unless John was himself Maori

John uses a te reo Māori phrase ("kia kaha, kia māia") (John 5:20) when he is saying goodbye to the corpses in the cryo lab before the power is shut off. Though it is possible he said this as a non-Maori kiwi, but in combination with the previous two points of evidence I think this all very strongly points to him being Maori

He also renames his daughter Kiriona Gaia, "Kiriona" being just literally the name "Gideon" in te reo Māori

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter but to ME this is all pretty solid proof

Why is this relevant to The Locked Tomb?

In Nona the Ninth, we learn that before he completed apotheosis and ate the solar system, John was basically trying to save the earth from capitalism-caused climate change. Climate justice and the rights of indigenous people over their own land are deeply tied together, in the same way that climate catastrophe and capitalism/ imperialism/ colonialism are linked. disclaimer that this is NOT my area of study and others have definitely said it better; this is just the basic gist as I understand it, but on quick search I found some sources here and here if you want to do some reading.

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter, but i don't think it is a stretch to see John as an indigenous man trying to save the earth and getting ignored and shut down at every turn by primarily western colonial powers (PanEuro, the USA) who declare him a terrorist and then as a reader thematically connecting that to the experience of indigenous climate activists IRL

there are absolutely TLT meta posts that have discussed this before me; tumblr search is nonfunctional and I have been looking for an hour and a half and cannot find anything specific even though i KNOW i reblogged multiple posts about this in the first few weeks following NTN's release. sad & I am sorry

I think that by the time the books take place, John is 10k years removed from the cultural context he grew up in, with the Nine Houses having become a genocidal colonial power in their own right (with more parallels to be made between John's forever war for the resources of literal life energy and like, oil wars), but I also think that John Gaius is a fictional character who can represent and symbolize multiple different things in service of telling a story. (not to mention the potential thematic parallels being made to how oppressed people sometimes are pressed into replicating the power dynamics of their oppressors and continuing the cycle--now that is a tumblr post i KNOW i read last year and definitely cannot find right now, once again sad & I am sorry)

How Radical Was John Gaius, Really is a forum thread that was locked by the moderators after 234534645674564 pages of heated debate

[rubydart]

I had a big need for a fandom butterfly/moth display. Updated with an ID: Art drawn to look like a Fictional Moth/Butterfly display case based on 4 characters from The Magnus Archives on a 8.5x11" print. Big bug center top is labeled as "J. Sims": big green Luna Moth with multiple prominent eyes a bit like an Emperor Moth's markings, and holes in the wings that mimic the holes in a cassette tape. There's an eye on the mid of its body. The markings are more fantastical than the other bugs.

Labeled "M. Blackwood": Silver Clouded moth, smaller, to the right of J. Sims, with a cloudy looking pattern in greys on the wings, and two small dots.

Labeled "N. Sasha": Center-left. A blue butterfly but with markings that look like eyes and possibly claws extending across the top pair of wings. The wings are lined with black and white markings that resemble piano-keys. The lower pair of wings have golden markings that is supposed to resemble calliope pipes.

Labeled "Tim": Takes up the lower right side. A Mourning Cloak butterfly but with orange markings inside the wings that resemble flames. Mainly red wings lined with black then yellow edges, with blue spots across the black.

They are on a board with a spider web stretched across underneath them. The black tape of a cassette tape ribbons around the board in loose loops.

[staytinyville]

Ride It Like Hydraulics (MDNI)

↣ Summary: Hoshi has a huge following which he makes well money off of. But that don’t mean he doesn’t love when others spoil him. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Hoshi (Soonyoung) x Reader

↣ Genre: Mature (MDNI)

↣ AU/Trope info: idol!Au, CEO!Reader , Sugar Mommy!Au, 

↣ Word Count: 2.8k

↣ Warnings: sub!Hoshi, Sugar baby!Hoshi, Sugar mommy!reader, dom!reader , mommy kink , blow job, face sitting , cum play

↣ A/N: NOT BETA! Inspired by the Song Tyrant by Beyonce. Honestly I’ve had this since I first heard it a few days ago and I was like: Subby boys?? Fuck Yeah. Also I can get behind the whole sugar baby hoshi agenda. The last part had me fucked.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

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A tired sigh fell from your lips as you leaned back in your chair, arm slung over the back of it and your legs spread wide open. You nails tapped on the wooden table in front of you as you waited for the rest of your board to finish up what they were talking about. 

Your phone pinged off to the side, making you turn to look at the notification that had popped up. Your wallpaper was visible from behind the transparent message that caught your attention when it said Attachment 1. The dark lighting photo on your device had you sighing, picking it up to take a look at what was sent. 

Swiping up your tired eyes held a bit of playfulness as they scanned over the shirtless picture of a man on your wallpaper. He was sitting on the floor scooted up to a mirror. His lips were formed into a pout as half of his face was covered by the phone he was using. His broad shoulders were on display, allowing you the chance to view his chest and smooth skin. 

You smiled lightly, opening the messaging app to find a picture from the exact man you had as your wallpaper. It was another mirror picture, but this time he was fully clothed. He leaned over a bathroom sink to showcase his neck to you. His head was leaned back, allowing you to see the thin diamond encrusted silver chain you had bought for him the other day. 

It laid down across his collarbones, not too long but not too short to look like a choker. It fit him perfectly along with the other jewelry his stylist must have made him wear for today’s schedule. You smiled to yourself, saving the picture before moving to send a reply his way. 

You : did you like my gift?

He was quick to start typing letting you know that he was waiting for your reply as you knew he would be. 

Kitty : i made sure to have the stylist fit my outfit with it

Kitty : have to show it off to the others and the fans

Looking up you noticed that all the other members of your board were in their own conversations going over things. You took it as a moment to get up and leave the room, giving them a bow of your head and ‘a have a nice day’ before making your way to your office. 

Now that you were finally out of the confines of the stale hot room, the cooling system in your office allowed you to breathe better. Dropping down into your desk chair, you slipped your feet out of your heels and allowed your body to relax. You went back to your messages with Hoshi, smiling to yourself at the selfies he always sends you. 

You: can i see it without the outfit?

Kitty : whenever you want.

Leaning back in your chair, you popped open some buttons on your blouse, allowing your bra to come into view. Lucky for you, since you enjoyed getting the fancier ones that had clippings in the front, you unhooked it allowing your nipples to harden with the cold air. Moving the cups around, your boobs squished together, allowing everything to show as you tilted your  phone out in front of you. 

You : i am in desperate need of you today. can you make it after your schedule? 

Kitty : for you and those always

**

It felt good to get rid of all your business clothing and just strut around your home naked without a care in the world. But what felt even better, was having your pretty boy withering under you as you languidly sucked on his cock. Watching his chest rise up and down rapidly as his face scrunched up in pleasure. 

“Mommy…” Hoshi cried quietly, huffing as his eyes opened just enough to look at you. 

You looked up at him, cock hanging from your lips as you hollowed out your cheeks at a slow pace. You took your time, allowing your tongue to go over every inch of him as you took your own pleasure from just having him in your mouth. 

With Hoshi laying down on the bed, his legs spread wide open to accommodate you, your back was arched allowing him to see over your back and to your ass sticking out. Your manicured hands ran along the inside of his thighs, lightly messaging into the skin which caused him to moan at the feeling. Each time you would grow closer to his dick with your hands his legs would indistinctly try to fall more open and allow you more room to move your hand. 

You popped him out of your mouth, his face scrunching up in a groan. You began to pump him as your tongue fell out to lick a long stripe up from his balls to the tip. When he whimpered you moved lower, sucking on his balls softly and using your tongue to move them around. 

This caused him to move his hips, thrusting forward into your hand as his whimpers grew louder.

His lips formed a pout, huffs coming out. “Mommy, ‘wanna touch you.”

You pulled away from him, leaning up as you licked your lips. “My pretty kitty.” You pouted playfully, lightly scratching up his chest and to his neck that was covered with the chain you gave him. 

You gently tugged on it, getting him to realize that you wanted him to lean up. He was slow in his movements but he listened to you either way, coming up to you with hooded eyes. His hands immediately went to the fat of your ass, palms gripping them with all his might as his head dropped down into your chest. 

His lips latched onto your nipples, kitty licking at them as he played with the hard buds. Your hands made their way to his blonde hair, lightly scratching at his scalp that had him swallowing. Little noises of content seemed to fall from his lips and you were sure if he was actually a cat he would be purring from your affection. 

His tongue flicking at your nippled once more had you smiling to yourself as you looked down at him. Your knees were placed on either side of his thighs, trapping him between you. You scooted closer, crawling further up him to have the tip of his cock touch your heat. 

Hoshi whimpered around your bud, suckling like a baby as he pawed where he could.

“Kitty, what do you want?” You asked him softly, cooing as you rubbed at his cheek. 

“But you were the one who had a rough day.” He looked up at you with wide eyes, a film over them as lust clouded his vision. 

His chin was placed between your breasts, fingers continuing their message into your hips and thighs as he seemed to be in a sub headspace. 

“Giving my baby boy the best kind of pleasure is the best thing to help me.” You smiled holding his chubby cheeks in your hands. 

You smooshed his cheeks together getting a grin from him. “Such a perfect little boy.” You leaned down giving him a kiss.

“Can you sit on my face?” He asked quietly, hand moving to lightly rub at your wet slit. 

You hummed, thighs clenching and unclenching with his ministrations. Your hips moved just a bit, humming as you pretended to think about his request. 

You giggled when you noticed his pout, rubbing his nose against yours in a Eskimo kiss from how adorable you found him. “Anything my baby boy wants.” 

He grinned, a bright red taking over his face. You let go of him for a moment, slowly pushing him down and crawling up his chest along the way. He quickly made himself comfortable looking up at you with sparkling eyes. 

You smiled, thinking he looked like a kid waiting for ice cream with the way his eyes sparkled. But you knew it wasn’t because he was about to get a sugar high, it was because he was about to have some of his favorite food. The way Soonyoung ate you out with gusto let you know just how much he enjoyed having your pussy in his face. 

Having him eat you out in every position available was something you would never get tired of. And when your pretty kitty asked you so nicely to sit on his face you were more than happy to oblige the good boy. 

You placed your knees on either side of his head, legs digging under his arms to get more comfortable. He quickly moved them up to grip onto your thighs, shoulders flexing from how he seemed to tighten his grip on you. You chuckled at his eagerness, rubbing a hand through his scalp as you gave him attention.

He hummed tongue swiping against his lips as he stared at your pussy before looking up at you expectantly. If there was something you knew about the man was that he had a set of lungs on him so you were more then generous when it came to sitting on him.

He moaned when your pussy came in contact with his lips. And he got even more eager when you started to use his nose and tongue to your pleasure. Your hips moved back and forth huffs falling from your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

Soonyoung was humming against your lips, tongue lapping at your entrance before going back up to find your clit. You groaned, eyes falling down to look at him as on of you hands moved to the headboard to hold yourself steady. 

“My good boy.” You moaned. “Always making mommy feel so good. Her little prince—deserves everything.”

Hoshi moaned out at your words, eyes falling shut as he sucked even harder at your clit. Your hips stuttered, eyes falling shut as a loud moan came from your chest. You began to cry, shifting back and forth in small intervals as you pressed hard on his face. 

Soonyoung didn’t care though, he knew you were close so all he did was shove his face deeper in you as his tongue probed your hole.

“I’m cumming, kitty. Gonna make mommy cum.” You told him. 

And as a moan fell from your lips, one came from him as well as your juices flowed from you. He lapped you up, not caring to allow you space from over stimulation as he knew you always told him to clean you up after cumming. He was more than happy to have his favorite dessert. 

You sighed loudly as you pulled back from him, his head falling onto the pillows and tongue lapping at his chin. You say back on his chest, the cold silver chain touching the warm skin of your thighs. Stretching your legs, you scooted down him again, placing his cock between your pussy lips. 

He was breathing steadily, waiting for the next part patiently like the good boy he was. When you settled down, you gave him a tired smile reaching up to wipe at the slick on chin with your thumb. He didn’t let you get far, pulling your finger into his mouth to suck. 

You smiled gratefully leaning over to give him a kiss. He let you push your tongue into his mouth, swirling his own around with yours before sucking on it. 

Pulling back you sat up, hand running down his chest and toned stomach. Your nails scratched at his skin very lightly, enough to give him a buzzing feeling. You couldn’t mark him but you still loved how sensitive he got to your touch just as much. 

Soonyoung’s hips lifted up just a bit, allowing his dick to slide between your pussy lips as it rubbed against you. You giggled, lifting up just a bit as your hand went to pump him. 

“Want mommy to ride you?” You asked quietly, pumping him harder. 

“Please. ‘love it when you ride me.” Hoshi whined, eyes scrunching up as he panted. 

“Of course, baby boy.” You cooed. 

You took his cock and lined him up with your entrance. His breathing was ragged, fingers gripping onto your hips tightly as you slowly lowered yourself down on him. As his tip popped in you hummed, squeezing your core with each inch you took. Soonyoung began to pant, letting out little noises as he felt you throbbing around him. 

“Such a good boy.” You moaned, placing your hands on his chest as you sat down all the way. Your eyes squeezed shut, groaning from how good he felt to have inside you. “Taking all of mommy.” You moaned. 

“You feel so good.” Hoshi whined, lips forming a pout. 

He suddenly thrust his hips upwards, making you shift over him. You let out a whine, nails lightly scratching at his skin. You huffed, moving your hips back and forth slowly. Your thighs began to burn but you weren’t focused on that. 

You were focused on the little faces and noises Soonyoung would let out each time you would clench down on him or have his tip brush against your walls. You were high off his looks–finding pleasure in how you can bring him down to nothing but whimpers and whines. 

You began to speed up your hips, moving back and forth quickly which lead to him withering in the sheets. 

You chuckled, spreading your knees out just a bit more as you suddenly lifted off him. His eyes shot open, crying out when you slammed back down onto his hips. 

“Don’t sto–op.” He cried, feet planting themselves into the bed. 

His hips rose and his legs pushed himself up each time you rose to chase after your warmth. 

“Mommy…” He cried, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“You gonna cum, kitty?” You moaned, hand reaching out for his cheek. 

Tears bubbled at the edge of his lash lines, making you moan and wipe at the ones the fell down his skin. 

“Feel good?”

“So good!” He threw his head back, swallowing hard. “You feel so good! ‘Wanna cum.”

“You wanna cum?” You leaned back down, allowing him to take his moment. “You gonna cum in mommy, baby?”

You heard his words get stuck in his throat, but when he felt you stop bouncing on him, he was quick to grab your hips and start pistoning his hips up into you. You fell forward to push your chest into his face, his lips immediately latching onto a nipple. He began to whimper each time his cock thrusted into you–his fingers getting tighter around you.

“Kitty, you gotta tell me what you want. Tell me.” You demanded, lightly slapping his cheek.

“I’m cumming. Mommy, I wanna cum in your pussy.” He cried out, a tear falling down his cheek. 

“Cum in mommy, kitty.”

You both moaned in sync–Hoshi letting out a cry while you whined from the warm feeling filling you up. Your legs tensed up, mouth falling open as your core clenched Soonyoung’s cock with each spurt he let out. 

Hoshi began to cry, feeling overstimulated as you continued to bounce just a bit. His hips fell down onto the bed, whining as you tried to pull you off him. When you got what he wanted, you quickly got off him, turning onto you side as you spread your legs open. 

“‘Wanna see.” Soonyoung lightly gripped your arm, shaking it with the strength he had left. 

You turned to look at him, giggling at the sleepy pout on his face. But you obliged your pretty boy, turning around so that you were laying with your pussy facing him. Hoshi whined again when he saw his cum run out of you as you pushed it out. 

Your muscles were still tense but you weren’t in a subspace like he had been. So when he reached over to push his cum back in you chuckled and threw your head back at your sweet boy. 

“Want you to keep it inside.” He said quietly. 

“I’ll keep my kitty’s cum inside.” You reassured him, moving to try and push his seed back in alongside his fingers. 

He hummed, his breathing going down at being so harsh. He suddenly popped back up, leaning on his elbows as his legs spread open again. You smiled and made your way back up to him, giving him a sloppy kiss which had him reeling back.  

Soonyoung was a dancer, even if he was in subspace, he was ready to go a few more rounds. 

“What do you want this time for that one?” You hummed against his lips, fingers playing with his lips. 

He gave you a grin, moving back in to kiss you.

**

“Are those new earrings?” Seokmin asked, trying to get a better view of the earrings on Soonyoung. 

“Yeah.” Hoshi smiled, turning his head from left and right to give his friend a better view. 

“And a rolex watch!?” Seungkwan gasped, pointing at the man’s wrist. 

“And Gucci Loafers!” Soonyoung grinned, sticking his foot out to showcase his new shoes.

In case you didn't know, Hoshi came three time lol

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[dindjarindiaries]

You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.

It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.

"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."

Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."

Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"

Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"

You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"

There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"

You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"

When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."

You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."

Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."

You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.

"You don't like being on the ship."

You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.

Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."

"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."

"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."

His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."

That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.

"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."

You huffed and shook your head at yourself.

"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."

Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."

You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."

You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.

"I will learn."

Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"

Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

[dxstopiaa]

Close Confinement

Synopsis: Party games were a great way to pass the time, but seven whole minutes with the scribe himself? [Request]

Characters: Al Haitham x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: NSFW content, interact at your own risk. [Includes: Soft sex, Virginity loss, semi-public sex, praise, pet names] [it took me a while to write this, but i hope you like it! <3]

Boring, tiresome and irrelevant.

The trinity of words which circulated the young post-graduate’s mind, all to describe the topic of socialising and parties. If it was up to his own decision, Al Haitham would’ve rejected the offer in less than a second. However, it was not.

Duties and desideratum of the Akademiya’s students, he was told. According to many of the matra, there was a high demand of past students requesting a sort of reunion— a celebration, as illustrated on the infamous community message board.

In short, the Acting Grand Sage had no choice but to cater to their desires, hence the situation he found himself in. Snapping back from his thoughts, he glanced back at the venue he had organised, half proudly, half nonchalantly. Not too bad for the first try.

Of course, with the help of his rather irritating roommate, who wasn’t as insufferable when he had something to occupy himself with. Kaveh stood expectantly beside the Scribe, tapping his pen on his pale lips, surveying the checklist he had prepared. The quiet hum which left him already told he was satisfied enough.

One topic that Al Haitham didn’t see on aforementioned list was guest entertainment, something that he ignored in hopes of not having to deal with it. Spoiler from his future self— that approach did not go to plan.

Instead, the Acting Grand Sage found himself musing over you, who currently sat opposite from him. That sweet, soft-hearted girl who always greeted him so kindly, always keen to listen to his theses and reports with such attention. Even now, you just looked too cute for the most stoic of men to ignore. The Scribe would gladly play any silly game to amuse you.

“Al Haitham, just spin the bottle already!” Cyno groaned, wanting nothing more than to get this stress-inducing situation over with. A series of agreements from the other two graduates followed. You merely stared at him with anticipation.

He’s changed a lot, you thought. Appearance wise, his silver tresses were more the shade of oxidised metal, not to mention his muscular physique, just how much has he undergone in recent years? Still as nerdy as ever though, another book resting on his lap.

The ashen-haired scholar scoffed—smoothing his fingers over the virescent glass, pushing it into a spinning motion. Friction worked its magic, slowing down till the neck of the bottle faced directly towards you.

The group immediately began snickering, observing your cheeks redden, putting the ripest of berries to shame. You looked up again, witnessing the smug expression of success on their faces. The tension between you both was overpowering, about time they did something about it.

“That settles it then! Go on..” Kaveh coerced, pushing the both of you into a poorly-furnished conference room to the left of the lounge and locking the door from the outside.

Cliché. Was this a punishment or rather a reward from the gods?

Al Haitham didn’t know what to do with himself. This wasn’t like him at all to be thinking in such ways but— Archons, your dress barely covered your thighs from him.

You were biting the insides of your cheek, averting your eyes to anywhere but him, despite only being a few inches away. You’d understand his actions soon enough, hopefully.

He cupped your face with his palm, brushing away stray strands of hair that obstructed the view of your precious eyes. Your breath hitched, leaning into his gentle touch. He pulled you in closer, intending to wordlessly claim you as his own.

“May I?” Al Haitham pleaded, his piercing, turquoise irises tainted with affection. His voice was quiet— almost strained, like he was afraid of rejection, something you’d never do to him.

You hastily nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you delicately, a faint taste of sweet wine still left on his lips. The Scribe trapped your body against the wall, pulling away just to kiss you again at the sight of your smudged lipstick. His mouth trailed down to your neck as his hands did to your waist.

His touch was hypnotic— your mind was hazy and overcast with him, countless dreams of this years ago now enacted in-front of you. His hands travelled further, grasping onto the underside of your thighs and wrapping your legs around him to stand comfortably imbetween them.

Al Haitham was curious as to how you’d react. Would you be quiet and anxious, rarely moaning and instead gasping? Or would you be vocal, crying his name out at any given moment? He traced a slender finger over the front of your panties, observing you squirm into his touch.

“Haitham…” You muttered, a flutter of butterflies swarming deep within, each flickering motion of a wing seeming to spur a different emotion. Desperation, apprehension and lust.

“Yes, darling?” He continued to skim over your clit underneath the fabric, clouding your thought process over. You reached to cover your mouth, whimpering into your own hand.

“I haven’t done this before—” You whined upon feeling his clothed erection press up against you, needily rolling your hips against him. Your face flushed from the confession and the sinful noise you let out.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.” The Scribe comforted, which felt strange for him to utter such words. Anyone who knew the scholar would be aware of his abrasive, arrogant nature— but his heart followed no limits when it came to you.

And gentle he was, softly pleasuring you with skilled fingers, coaxing angelic sounds from your pretty, hesitant lips. Al Haitham wanted nothing more than to see them swollen and wet from kisses. A few seconds later you were essentially begging for his cock, palming his crotch with your inexperienced hand.

Your pleads were just adorable, who was he to deny you of what you wanted? With his fingers wet with your slick, he slid them over his flushed tip. It was quite the confidence boost for you to exclusively see the Acting Grand Sage deteriorated to this mindless state.

He prodded at your pussy, barely even managing to hilt himself with you clenching so tightly, hearing your timid sobs from the stretch, tears forming in your eyes.

“I know, darling, try to relax for me…” Al Haitham amorously whispered, planting short-lived pecks on your forehead whilst he massaged your thighs softly, giving you a few moments to adjust before beginning to move.

The feeling of his girth dragging against your insides was a simultaneous sensation of pain and pleasure. You struggled to restrain yourself, opting to bury your face against the scholar’s chest. With each prolonged thrust, your brain struggled to comprehend anything else.

“You’re doing so well, angel.” Al Haitham could feel you squeezing around his cock at his words, murmuring how it was all too much for you, phrases adjourned by blissful moans. You were close, those erotic grunts from his ajar mouth did nothing but worsen the tingling in your lower abdomen.

A final firm thrust and you finished around his cock, gripping onto him so much that he came inside of you. Your sublime expression so innocent, eyes half-lidded in euphoria. The Scribe pulled out, letting you stumble against him for support.

“So good for me, let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

The long-forgotten graduates were still at the very same table, entertaining themselves with numerous glasses of alcohol and a card game of the General’s choice. It’d be a complete lie if they were to say they hadn’t had a clue about your prior predicament.

The lipstick stains over Al Haitham’s face and neck, his dishevelled hair accompanied with your dress creased and legs still trembling from implied events— all telltale signs of something more explicit.

“It’s called seven minutes in heaven, not thirty minutes making your neighbour’s ears hell!” An embarrassed complaint from an even more ashamed blonde, flicking a card at his chuckling roommate.

[wanderingwolpertinger]

TSE Valentines: Chanel

[scorpioriesling]

Too Hot To Handle - Episode 1

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None

SR's Note: Okay, so I know this show was runner up for the most votes on the poll. However! I liked this idea so much that I am writing series for both Too Hot To Handle and Love Island if this one does well. So... please like, comment, reblog, and don't forget to vote! You literally control the outcome of this story -- every vote counts. xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The summer sun cast a warm glow across the chrystalline water in the bay, the reflections like little silver fractures along the surface. The smell of salt in the air only surges you forward, the clicking of your wedges against the wood of the dock a contrast to the swishing of the boats in the water.

The large, white, pristine yacht comes into view, tied directly at the end of the dock, practically calling your name louder and louder with every step closer you take. You raise a hand to shade the sun from your vision, and can make out a few figures on the deck. Your heart rate picks up, a small smile spreading across your face as another adrenaline wave courses through you again.

This was it -- you'd finally made it to the retreat you'd been so anxious to attend. This could finally be your chance at finding not just another partner for the evening, but a real, true partner for life.

All you had to do was step onto the Love Boat.

"Y/N?" The captain greets you politely as you step up to the ramp leading to the boat's main deck. You meet his eyes, and he extends his hand. You take it, and he shakes as though you're equals, his gaze never leaving your eyes as he nods politely. You smile appreciatively, knowing in that moment, under his direction, you would be in good hands.

"It seems you're the last to board, dear. Please -- step aboard whenever you are ready." He nods once more.

"Thank you!" You say with a little too much enthusiasm. He only smiles politely, his face turning to peer out at the ocean beyond once more. You take a hesitant step onto the path toward the main deck, the soles of your shoes clicking differently on the metal than they did the wood. You continue your stride, up and up and up the path...

When you can see the opening onto the main deck, you halt, ruffling your fingers through your blown-out hair and adjusting the strings of your bikini. If you're really about to walk onto a deck full of males (and females, for that matter) who were all here for the same reason you were, you had to make sure what needed to be covered -- and what needed not to -- was or wasn't... right?

With a satisfied sigh, you took one calming breath before taking the final step past the interior walls of the boat, and heading toward the crowd of other bikinied females and half-naked males before you. You could have sworn your mouth dropped open at the sheer amount of options you had -- and not one of them was a bad one! Everywhere your eyes darted, all you could see was muscle, toned abs, defined legs, and amid the whistles and cheers, a very loud:

"Oooh! Who have we got here?"

✧･ﾟ:

All you can do is laugh nervously as every eye on the boat seems to be on you. You haven't felt self-conscious in ages, but with everyone staring at you like this you feel so... exposed. Nonetheless, you're grateful when a pretty girl walks right up to you and holds out a flute of champagne to you with a smile.

"A glass of champagne for you?" She asks. You graciously take it from her, and your eyes meet her caramel brown ones.

"Thank you, yes, absolutely," you chuckle. "God, I'm so nervous, I feel like everyone's-"

"Drinking you up?" She says, her brow raising. You shrug, chuckling as she looks around at the guys waiting to come over and talk to you. "It's because everyone is. You're the freshest glass of water on this boat, and every guy wants a taste." She winks, and your cheeks heat at her words. She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder, the sun shining on the radiant golden locks as though they are made of the metal itself. "My name is Morrigan -- uh, Mor, I mean. Everyone just calls me Mor." She sips her bubbly champagne, and you take note. The bubbly one is Mor -- like the champagne on the boat.

"Well, I'm happy to meet you Mor," you say. "I'm Y/N." She glances over her shoulder, her eyes only briefly meeting yours once more before she leans in close.

"Between you and me," she says lowly. "I have my eyes set on that one over there," she glances toward a very tall, dark-skinned male with short black locks. He is laughing at something the brunette beside him says, his smile adding to the glowing aura around him.

"You should move in now then," you suggest, and Mor shoulder bumps you.

"Heyyy you're just saying what I was already thinking," she smiles. Her aura shines just as brightly as she wades through the crowd, making her way toward the joyous male. It's only a matter of minutes before you're approached once more, this time by a much taller, much more handsome person.

"Well hello there darling," the raven-haired male's deep tone sends a flutter about in your stomach. You smile up at him, your eyes dragging across the sculpted panes of his tanned skin.

"Hello," you politely greet. He smiles coyly, taking your free hand in his.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?" He drawls. You shyly introduce yourself, and he nods as if your name is quite suitable.

"Y/N," he affirms. He places a featherlight kiss to the top of your hand and you blush, noticing his subtle glance toward your bikini top as he does so. "You're quite beautiful, Y/N," he says.

"And you're quite charming...?" You raise your eyebrows in question.

"Rhysand," he finished. Ahh, Rhysand. "However, "Charming" would do just fine, if it is a Prince you are looking for." He chuckles, a small dimple forming in his cheek. You giggle along with him, and he raises his whiskey glass to you.

"Cheers to finding your Prince Charming, hmm?" He winks, and heads off toward where a few other ladies have congregated near the railing. It isn't long before he says something and they all laugh, surely all fawning over him already.

Rhysand the Charmer. Got it. Boy, whoever goes for that one will have quite a few ladies in waiting to battle it out with to get to him-

The loud blaring of the ship's horn has everyone flinching in suprise, so much so that you almost spill your champagne. You manage to keep it all in your glass, that is until the ship disembarks from the dock, the sudden motion causing you to sway a bit in your wedges and loose your balance.

"Woah-"

Two hands brace your arms, catching you mid-wobble before you could topple over. Your upper back brushes across warm, hard skin and you shudder at the contact, feeling alight with energy and embarassment at your sudden sea legs.

"Are you alright, miss?"

You turn, peering over your shoulder as your helped upright onto your platforms once more. Only a bit of champagne has slipped from your glass, but not enough to warrant a scene. Nonetheless, you can't help but feel ashamed in front of yet another beautiful man before you.

"Oh, I'm alright -- just quite embarassed really. I can't believe... I mean I'm usually not so clum...s...y..." You trail off, your eyes meeting a pair of the most beautiful ones you'd ever seen. The heterochromia was instantly attractive, the deep amber on the left such a contrast to the burnt golden on the right; Gods you couldn't stop staring.

"Well, it seems your slight misstep has maybe affected your ability to talk then?" He jokes, his red hair flowing behind his shoulderblades with the slight breeze off of the ocean. Your cheeks flare, and you chuckle nervously.

"No! No not at all, I... maybe my wit just isn't quite as good as yours?" You arch an eyebrow at him, earning you a delighted laugh in return. You quickly scan him when he tosses his head back -- all the way down to his burnt orange swim trunks-

"Lucien," he says, holding out his hand. You take it, and immediately cringe when you remember the champagne you'd sloshed over it moments ago. He lets out a breathy laugh.

"What is it, now you don't like the way my hand feels either? Moments ago you didn't mind..." He teases. You let go, and playfully shove his shoulder, which earns you another grin.

"Nooo, I just spilled some of my drink when I slipped earlier and I realized it got on you too," you explain.

"Ohhh, I see I see," He says, inspecting his hand palm up. He shrugs.

"Well, now I'll just remember that you've put something sticky all over my fingers," he wiggles his brows, and you gasp.

"Lucien!" You can't help but laugh. He only smiles at you, glancing around before taking a step past you toward the stairs.

"You didn't tell me your name yet, love," he says looking back.

"Y/N," You say. He nods, glancing at his palm once more.

"Got it... Y/N, the pretty girl who got my hand sticky and wet. I'll remember you for sure," he says with a wink.

Add Lucien sticky fingers to the list.

✧･ﾟ: *

Over the next hour or so, you'd walked around the boat, admiring the views of the ocean, exploring what wasn't locked off from retreat attendees, and meeting a few more guests. You hadn't had any other males approach you yet, but you did meet another girl while watching the waves.

"What's brought you to the retreat?" She asked kindly. You smiles softly, thinking about the few males you'd already met today.

"Honestly, I haven't had much luck in relationships in my past," you explained, looking over at the freckled female beside you. Feyre was her name, she'd said. Feyre with freckles.

"Oh, I can understand that. Honestly, I've been through some shit myself." She says, peering out at the vast expanse solemnly.

"I just feel like maybe this is a way to finally meet someone looking for the same thing I am, you know?" You continue. She nods, her long golden braid swaying behind her and ending just above the waistband of her midnight blue bikini.

"Oh, absolutely." She agrees, her eyes meeting yours. "Let's just hope these guys we're forced to share this yacht with for a month aren't total dogs, hm?" Her crystalline blue eyes crinkle at the sides as she cracks a smile, and you chuckle in agreement. Just a few moments later, Mor approaches once more from across the deck, her ruby red bikini unmissible from a mile away.

"Ladies!" She exclaims. You and Feyre both turn, taking her in fully as she approaches happily with two margaritas in her hands.

"I see you've found the bar?" Feyre muses. Mor hands her a margarita, and then thrusts one into your hands.

"Oh I've found something better than the bar girls -- I found the hot tub!" She squeals in delight, hopping from foot to foot and somehow maintaining her balance in her very high heels. You and Feyre exchange a glance, but ultimately shrug as Mor links arms with you and pulls you toward the main stairs to the top deck.

"...Oh! And after I talked to Helion, there was this other guy Eris who was like, mega hot but I don't really know if he's my type? Oh, and I almost forgot about Gwyn too, she is such a sweetheart, oh gosh..." Mor keeps rambling on as you and Feyre follow her to the hot tub, your eyes trained on yet two more delicious males already seated inside, engaged in conversation. You and Feyre quietly remove your shoes, and as you bend over to undo the straps, you can feel the blonde one staring directly at you, as though peering right through the thin fabric of your bikini. When you stand again, Mor has already gotten in, the bubbles swirling around her and Feyre's ankles as she wades in as well, banalcing her margarita in her hand. You nervously step in, the slipery stair below only providing deja vu from your earlier embarassment.

"I can hold that, if you'd like," the very muscular, tan, tattoed male with the short brown hair offers a kind smile and a hand to you. You smile back, and hand him your drink.

"Aww, how sweet of you!" You chirp. His smile only grows as you slowly sink deeper into the water, the bubbles foaming just below the strings of your bikini top. You sit next to him, getting a better look at him. He hands you back your drink, and his perfect teeth grin down at you before he says;

"I meant your hand, but I'll help however I can I suppose." You blush, and he only chuckles at you.

"Oh gosh," Mor loudly exclaims. "I forgot! These are my new friends too." She hiccups, clearly intoxicated, and gestures around the hot tub to each individual. You pull your eyes from the handsome male beside you to the blonde, mysterious one across the way who's been staring at you since he'd first seen you. You only meet his piercing emerald eyes for a moment before looking away shyly.

"Feyre... then me, obviously," Mor gestures to herself. "Then we have Y/N, and then Cassian..." Cassian. Hmm... the cutie, you supposed. He glances to you again, a small smirk on his lips as hishand under the water slightly brushes against your thigh. It's enough to cause your breath to hitch.

"...then lastly is Tamlin!" You're immediately pulled from your daze upon hearing the quiet stranger's name. You'd need to be sure to get him alone later, something in his gaze was quite... hungry. It was almost like a need, perhaps one he came to satiate just as you had. It was like you were his prey, he was a hunter out for you in the forest...

Tamlin's target. That'd do.

Conversation buzzed around you as more people joined, left, rejoined, and drank in the hot tub while the sun began to set in the distance. Another kind male, (Tarquin with the Tequila, you'd deemed fit as he kept grabbing you fresh margaritas) a strikingly dark one with white locks offerred to refill your drink -- a few times, actually -- but with each passing hour, you only felt as though you wanted to at least talk to Tamlin. Alone.

"Yeah, there are only half the beds on board, so we have to share," your fuzzy attention clears as you re-engage in the conversation before you. Rhysand furrows his brows, taking in what Cassian had just said. You can't help but do the same.

"Wait, what do you mean half the beds?" Feyre asks. Cassian shrugs, looking around the tub at each person, his eyes drifting over you for only a moment.

"That's what I heard before I got on -- the rules of the Love Boat is that we have to couple up every night to sleep," he explains, then his face contorts in confusion. "Wait, were you guys not told this before you boarded? Or..."

"If it was in the contract, then I probably just skimmed over it," a pretty, fair skinned brunette girl admits. You nod in agreement, you definately didn't read every single word in that thing. But if that's the case...

"Well, if that's the case," Feyre says, rising from the bubbling water and making her way toward the stairs. "I've got some decision making to do then." She says in finality, descending upon them one by one. You sigh, your head fuzzy from the drinks and judgement clouded on what to do. You'd already met so many fine men today, sure, but you hadn't met them all -- but, even so, the sun was setting, and you needed someone to share a bed with tonight.

You rise as well, your hunter tracking your every move. Sure, did you pull your bikini up a little higher for the viewing pleasure? Maybe. Did you sway your hips when getting out of the hot tub? Also... maybe. You knew he was looking, and you quite liked it as such.

As you descended the stairs, you found most of the girls lounging on the beach beds on the main dock, all chatting away. You slipped in, sitting on a corner between Feyre and another gorgeous female with stunning chocolate skin and a long brown fishtail braid.

"Well, I'm planning to bed with Helion," Mor says confidently. She looks to a pale girl with stunning blue eyes that match the ocean's surface, her wispy red hair blowing beautifully behind her. "Gwyn, who are you thinking?"

Gwyn -- the mermaid, with those oceanic eyes -- perks up, her hand rubbing over the skin of her arm. "I haven't really met many males today, so I'm not really sure... Tarquin was nice, but I met Tamlin too and he was very interesting." Her lilting voice is so sweet, you didn't doubt any male in here would find that endearing about her.

"Personally, I'm feeling Rhysand a little bit," Feyre admits. You raise your eyebrows at her, and a few other ladies in the bunch nod in agreement.

"I met him today too -- he was really sweet," the girl with the fishtail nods. Mor giggles at her.

"Emerie, I feel like you've always liked tan guys," she says. Emerie chuckles.

"I mean, I have a type anddd... he fits the bill," she admits. Emerie who likes tans.

You glance to Feyre, who only sits quietly beside you, seeming to be thinking a million things at once in her head before her focus lands on the fair-skinned brunette from earlier.

"Elain? Have anyone in mind?" She asks. Elain's cheeks turn as red as a rose, but she smiles and covers her cheeks with her hands. She reminds you of a flower in a garden.

"I... oh, I just don't know yet, Fey." She admits. The smaller female next to her only shakes her head, her pin-straight short black hair swishing as she does.

"Better figure it out soon... these men will be pouncing like cats soon enough." Her blood red lipstick gleams in the evening sun, and Feyre glances to you again.

"Were you thinking of anyone yet?" She asks quietly. You slowly shake your head.

"No... I mean, yes... I mean, maybe? I don't know, I've only met a few guys, and I don't know... making the first move usually isn't my style." You bite the inside of your cheek. Feyre rests a hand on yours and her blue eyes peer at you.

"Y/N, you don't have to worry... I'm sure you'll have a few males asking for you tonight." She says, a soft smile curving her lips. You only chuckle, giving her hand a light squeeze.

"Oh please -- you're a total catch! Rhysand is yours if you go for him first." You glance quickly at Emerie, who is still listening in on whatever Mor is drawling on about now. Feyre takes a deep breath, and nods in agreement.

"You're right -- I should make my move first." She rises quickly, her sudden motion drawing all eyes to her.

"Okay... ladies uh... nice chat... um..." She stutters. You rise next to her, swinging your arm over her shoulders.

"Let's move in on these silly boys before they mess any of our plans up, shall we?" You declare. A chorus of cheers in agreement ring out as the group disbands, making their way about the yacht as the guys seem to be doing the same.

You take your time, slowly walking the floors and trying to avoid contact with the other males before you're able to at least converse with Tamlin. You ascend the stairs, hoping he'll be in the hot tub still...

Sure enough, he is.

He turns as you walk up to him and you say a silent prayer in thanks that you're the only two up here. His swirling green eyes meet yours, and you sensually make your way into the hot tub once more, the steam a warm greeting against the ever approaching evening air.

"I see you've made your way back." He says, his deep voice sending a thrill down your spine. You sit a few feet from him, leaning against the edge of the tub and gazing into his eyes. His stare that seems to eat you alive.

"I wanted to at least talk before..." you trail off. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you chew on your bottom lip.

"Before..." he repeats your words.

"Before... we had to... you know-"

"Choose someone to sleep with tonight?" He finishes. You nod silently, and he sighs, his arms dipping below the water's surface. His gaze flickers toward the evening sunset for a moment, and you study his face before his eyes settle back on you once more.

"And you... only came up here... to talk?" He rasps, and you stare wide-eyed as his long fingers gently find purchase on your thigh, running up and down softly. You'd be lying if you said it didn't set your core on fire; your sex drive was already high as-is.

"I... uh, well I mean..." You suck in a sharp breath when his hands find your knees, lightly tugging you closer to him. The water swirls around you, the steam adding to your flushed complexion as he pulls you mere inches from him. He leans in close, practically hovering over you as a small smile spreads across his deliciously kiss-able lips.

"What was that you were saying, Y/N?" He whispers. The way your name rolls off of his tongue is mouth-watering... as though he's the freshest glass of water in the room, and you simply...

Wanted a taste.

You push off the hot tub bench, the water lapping at your waist as you smush your lips onto his. You were right -- they are quite kiss-able. The instant attraction is very apparently two-sided as his hands rest on the esposed skin of your waist, your hands caressing his sharp jawline and lightly threading through his bleach-blonde locks. He parts his lips, allowing you in and you take it, your tongue dancing with his in a tango of passion and instant attraction.

He guides you onto his lap, pulling you to sit atop him and continue to makeout. Every soft groan from him sends wave after wave of arousal to your core, and you couldn't help but feel excited to share a bed later. Oh, the things you had planned...

He pulls back, his half-lidded eyes searching yours as his puffy pink lips curve into a small smile, revealing his (of course) perfect smile.

"This means we're sharing a bed tonight, hm?"

✧･ﾟ: *

When the announcement came over the speakers that the passengers would be disembarking for a luxury dinner, everyone was quite thrilled! You'd found Mor again, who was happy to report that Helion confirmed he'd share her bed for the night (you hadn't yet told her about Tamlin) and a few of the other males you'd met that day fell in line beside you as you filed off the yacht, one by one toward a very expansive, very theatrical scene.

Fire dancers, bongo players, hula skirts all around -- this was a party! Everyone whooped and cheered as the group made their way toward the building, the festivities only creating more excitement as we ventured on.

"Love Boat passengers!" The Captain called from the back of the group. Everyone halted, turning to look to him as he removed his hat and gazed over the crowd.

"I have been asked to inform you that... unfortunately, you will not be re-entering the yacht," he explains. A wave of confused mutterings overtakes the group, but the Captain continues.

"Nevertheless -- you'll ride out the remainder of your retreat in a luxury villa!" The confused murmurs switch to excited chants, suprise overtaking the group.

"Lastly, I will not be in charge of you any longer. You'll be monitored via cameras, and by Lana." He announces, and begins retreating toward the yacht.

Many people call after him, asking who Lana is and looking around for another host among the entertainers on the beach. Instead, a robotic box emerges from the end of the path with a white cone-shaped device atop it, glowing with light as sound eminates from it.

"Greetings guests. I am Lana, and I am your host."

Many people look around, groaning in confusion over your new cone-shaped hostess. Lights flicker on behind the cone, illuminating the vast expanse of the luxury villa the Captain had mentioned earlier. Cue another round of excited whoops and hollers.

"Welcome to my retreat, Too Hot To Handle. The villa behind me is where you'll reside for the next four weeks while you explore the meanings behind forming deeper connections with others, bonding with people on a personal level, and forming connections that go beyond the physical standpoint." The cheering dies down, and many of the entertainers lessen their movements as Lana's spiel draws to a close.

"I hope you're ready for the journey -- because you'll be completing this retreat adhearing to my rules. And my biggest rule is that you'll complete this retreat... without the use of any physical intimacy."

✧･ﾟ: *

[genshinluvr]

Where Are the Updates? (HSR Filler)

Pairings: Somewhat HSR Men x Isekai'd!Reader, but there's no romance in this fic (unless you count the moment with Sampo)

Summary: The person who writes the script for your and the men's future project is visiting the Astral Express. Everyone is wondering what is their future role in the projects (and Sampo is being Sampo)

Note: This is a filler fanfic since I haven't updated in so long and I'm trying to force myself to write something so I can get used to writing fanfics again. I'm not expecting anyone to read this. This is a filler chapter until I can actually write something. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

Caelus walks into the Astral Express, approaching March and Dan Heng. “Hey, does anyone know where [Y/N] is? I’ve been trying to look for them, but they’re not in their room.” Caelus says, crossing his arms over his chest.

March scratches the back of her head. “Uh, I think they’re with the author right now. [Y/N]’s been keeping them company ever since they boarded the Astral Express.”

Caelus does a double take. “Well, this is news to me. How long has she been on the Astral Express?”

Dan Heng looks at his phone. “She’s been here for a few hours now. I don’t think you should disturb the two of them. But if you want to see what they’re up to, they’re in the Parlor Car.”

Caelus quickly thanks Dan Heng before rushing to the Parlor Car. Dan Heng and March watch the silver-haired man leave the Passenger Cabin before turning to look at one another.

“Should we follow him to make sure he doesn’t cause any problems? Who knows what Caelus is going to ask the author to do for him,” March says, propping her hands on her hips.

Dan Heng sighs. “Looks like we have no choice.” Dan Heng mutters before following March to the Parlor Car.

Caelus enters the Parlor Car and freezes. You look away from the woman sitting across from you and wave at Caelus, who presses his lips together while surveying the area. You shrug and turn towards the woman across from you, leaning in your seat. 

“How about a story where you make the main character, aka me, get mad at someone, and they jump universes and get lost for months?” You suggest.

The woman sitting across from you puckers her lips, tapping her chin as she stares at the laptop before her. Hey, you’re merely suggesting ideas for her to write, but the woman seems hesitant about it.

“I like the idea, but I’m not sure. Is it supposed to be another version of the story where these men,” she gestures to the men sitting around you and her, “jumped to another universe in search for you— I mean, the main character from their universe?”

You squint at the woman before you, nodding slowly. “Yes? But that’s up to you! I’m trying to help you come up with ideas to write.”

She nods wordlessly, eyes focusing on the screen before her. Caelus approaches where you and the black-haired woman are sitting. Before Caelus can make it over to the table, someone places a heavy hand on his shoulders, causing him to stop in his tracks. Caelus turns to see Jing Yuan standing beside him while his eyes are elsewhere.

“General, it’s good to see you on the Astral Express! Though, it’s a bit unexpected,” Caelus says, glancing in your direction from the corner of his eyes.

The General of the Xianzhou Luofu chuckles, shaking his head. “I received a message from [Y/N]. They wanted us to come over while someone important was stopping by,” Jing Yuan replies, showing Caelus his phone.

Caelus looks at the screen, and yep, you certainly sent out a message to the General to meet up at the Astral Express. However, Caelus doesn’t know why this “important” person was stopping by the Astral Express. The very same person glued to her laptop, occasionally pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as it kept slipping down. Caelus has met this woman before, heck, and so has everyone in the Astral Express. The woman with black hair is the one who delivers everyone their “scripts.” And since it’s been a while since there was an update from the author, no one has heard from her since then. Until now, of course.

“Ooh! If you ever write about Penacony, would the others make an appearance?” You ask excitedly, tapping your foot on the ground.

The woman blinks at you cluelessly. “Oh, shit. There’s more?” She mutters, looking around the Astral Express for new faces. Lo and behold, there are certainly new people on the Astral Express. The woman turns toward you, scratching her head, “I haven’t even written anything that debuts Dr. Ratio and Argenti’s appearance— which is long overdue—”

“Very overdue. I understand academics are important, but I don’t see how you can’t write something short and simple for my appearance,” Dr. Ratio comments, crossing his arms over his chest while staring at the woman, displeased. 

The woman gives Dr. Ratio a tight-lipped smile and closes her laptop. “Dr. Ratio, with all due respect, but if you continue to give me that sass, I will continue to delay your appearance in future works.”

Dr. Ratio huffs, looking away with a visible pout on his face, while Adventurine snorts and shakes his head. Adventurine props his arms on Dr. Ratio’s shoulders, only for the man to push him off with a glare.

Adventurine clears his throat. “Dearest author, allow me to pitch my idea for your possible upcoming story~” he strikes a dramatic pose.

The woman nods, “And what is the idea you’ll be pitching?” She asks, waiting for the blond man to say something.

Adventurine clears his throat and jogs over to the woman, sitting beside her before whispering something into her ears. Caelus nearly let out a loud groan. Damn him for making his pitch a secret. Adventurine pulls away and clasps his hands together, placing them on the table while waiting for the woman’s approval or disapproval of his idea.

“I will think about it, and if I’m able to map out how your idea goes, then I will try to make it into a script.” The woman nods.

Adventurine cheers loudly, hopping up from his spot and jumping in the air before looking at Dr. Ratio smugly. Dr. Ratio rolls his eyes with disgust before walking to the other side of the Astral Express while muttering under his breath about how Adventurine is an annoyance. 

“And what about me, Madam Author?” Sunday asks, bowing to the woman before him.

The woman stares at Sunday, pressing her lips into a thin line. “If you’re talking about your appearance in future works, I will include you and new people in future works. The only issue is I’m still unfamiliar with all of you, and your personalities won’t be nearly as accurate as the others.”

Sampo approaches the table where you’re sitting with the woman. You stare at Sampo while he gives you a sheepish smile before looking at the woman. If Sampo had a tail, it would’ve been wagging. Is he excited, or is he nervous? You can’t really tell.

“Ahem, Miss Author, I was wondering why there’s a delay in updates for the script,” Sampo says, poking his index fingers together. “You’re not tired of us, are you?” Cue the puppy dog's eyes.

Welt Yang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sampo, I don’t think you should be asking something like that. There could be many factors that play into why she hasn’t been updating us with new scripts.” He mutters, giving Sampo a subtle glare.

The black-haired woman smiles at the older man and gets up from her seat, dusting her pants off. “Sampo, I wasn’t able to update you all on new scripts because I have other priorities, such as my education. I was also behind on your world and wasn’t able to keep up with what was happening in your world.”

Sampo sniffles dramatically, his bottom lips trembling. “But you have time to keep up with the other universe with other people?” Sampo whines, batting his eyelashes at the woman.

“To be fair… I didn’t even update things for them, either.” The woman shrugs.

You got up from your seat and pat Sampo’s shoulders. Sampo dramatically drapes himself over you, burying his face into your neck while dramatically sniffling. You can’t tell if he’s pretending to cry or if he’s trying to inhale you— or both.

Luocha whispers to the woman, “I think he meant being updated with what’s happening in the universe, not your stories and scripts.”

The woman mouths ‘oh’ before nodding slowly. The Parlor Car feels crowded with how many people are present on the Astral Express. All have pressing questions regarding their roles for future projects and what they can expect to happen as the plot (is there even a plot?) progresses. Of course, you and the author reassured everyone that their roles are safe and nothing is going to happen to them. However, even if something were to happen, it would not be permanent. Speaking of something happening and permanent….

You turn to the woman and clear your throat. “You’re not going to kill me in any future projects, are you?”

The woman takes her glasses off and wipes the lenses with her shirt. “That would depend on the plot and the situation. I’ve killed you once, and the other time where you reincarnated, your death was implied and mentioned, but there weren’t scenes, you know?”

You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know, but why do I have to be the one to die? Why can’t it be someone else like, and I mean this as nice as possible, Blade?”

The woman puts her glasses back on and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Because I love making the male love interests suffer.” She replies nonchalantly, brushing her hair off her shoulders.

“I mean, you can still do that without killing me,” You bat your eyelashes at her.

The woman nods. “You’re not wrong about that. I’ll see what I can do, but it will take time, and I probably won’t have the script done before I complete other scripts as well.”

You’re fine with that. As long as you don’t die in future projects (again), then you’re not complaining! Although now that you have (somewhat) given her an idea for future projects, you don’t think you’re going to be prepared for anything gutwrenching. 

Note: I feel bad for not updating in so long 😭 I've been super busy with school and did not have any motivation to write at all, even though that's what I'm required to do for my major. I have finally caught up with Honkai Star Rail— it took me days to catch up because I was also exploring Penacony. I have school in 4 hours, and I still haven't slept. Goodnight! Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[wren-dy-flowergarden]

My precious treasures ✦ *.✧ *.✦

✦ *.✧.* Being childhood friends with Seishiro Nagi created a world just for you and him. Then Mikage Reo comes along with his energetic charm busting it all the pieces and you don't know what to do. Word Count: 2.9k / Nagi x f!reader x Reo Tags: childhood friends to high school love birds, sfw, character study, not that beta'd ───────────✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ ───────────── A/N: My first posted story here! ლ(◉‿◉ ლ) finally... pls interact if you want more, I don't usually write short stories so sorry this is so long. Grand ideas for nsfw later hehe. Let me know what you think!

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

At first it was more of a chore to be friends with Nagi Seishiro than have what you define as a functioning friendship.

He was lazy, lazy in a way that you needed to check up on him daily just to make sure he wasn't passed out in his house. Not only that he was stubborn, stubborn in the sense that if the building was burning down vs. a high score on the newest game you definitely be attending a funeral the next day. Lastly, he's honest, honest to a fault where you have seen him deny so many confessions because 'they weren't like (Y/N).'

That always made your heart beat a little faster than healthy, but a little abnormality made life interesting right?

Ever since you were little you looked after Nagi. Whether it was coming to his empty house after his parents business trip was taking longer than usual, or after school grabbing ice cream (for yourself) then heading to the local arcade (for him).

It wasn't perfect, but it was something you gotten used to.

It wasn't until high school that your world began to shift.

You both went to the same school. A prep school known for its rounded curriculum, national sport teams and most importantly its connections.

You could find anyone here; the daughter of the Tamayo hospitality known for their five star hotels, half of the directors on the school board are wealthy investors looking for their next big venture and the most popular find would be Reo Mikage, the heir of the Mikage corporation.

A world outside her own and Nagi's.

It was by luck that you got accepted into this high school (plus countless nights of studying and coffee overdrive). Nagi on the other hand is a "genius". At least that's what his parents call him, they congratulated him with a quick three minute phone call and enough money to buy the newest game on the market.

You have never called Nagi a genius. Not that you don't agree, but it felt cold to define him as one and not as Nagi. The one who would always cheer you up by knowing your favorite sweets, turn on your favorite TV show while you be cooking at his house.

Nagi is Nagi.

He is your treasure.

A couple weeks later, spring started to turn into summer and with that beginning shift of your life.

It started with Nagi coming home with dirty cleats hanging off his school backpack and a jersey stained with grass.

"You've joined a club?"

Nagi gives a nod before flopping on the couch, you frowned, "Hey take a bath first, you're filthy." With that comment all you see is a bed of silver hair roll onto the floor with a grunt.

A short dinner later, a couple rounds of the newest Tekken game and you were off to study back at your own house. Putting on your shoes Nagi shouts from upstairs

"Hey (Y/N), you don't need to come here after school everyday."

You stop fidgeting with your shoe ties before twisting back to meet Nagi leaning against the wall. Towel over his head and droplets of water dripping down his neck to a barely exposed collar bone.

Your head whips down to your shoelaces, ears turning red. You don't meet his eyes as multiple thoughts spiral in your head, "If I don't come over who is going to make sure you eat?"

You expect a laugh, a shrug of the shoulder what you don't expect is a name.

"Reo."

You freeze. Reo Mikage the most popular guy in school, not Reo-san or Reo-kun just Reo.

It was almost as if Nagi could read your thoughts because he slumps further against the wall, "Its a pain, and football is not as fun as playing games, but Reo is ok." He says as if that explained the whole picture.

You want to ask a million questions. Oh Nagi how did you meet the heir of the Mikage corporation that literal net worth is in the billions, or why do you call him without honorifics?

"That's- um, great?" You try to compliment, because you don't know if this is a 'great' thing or not. You have never seen Nagi even touch a football in your whole time knowing him, let alone make a friend on first name basis in a week.

Nagi walks up to you as you fiddle with the unclipped thread tearing at the bottom of your shirt. He gives a small pat on the head, hesitant, the same form of love he use when you both first were 'required' to hang out with each other during your childhood days. It meant "you're alright" or "you got this" used after a tumble at the local park or if Nagi didn't go easy on you with his video games leaving you in a teary mess.

Today, it felt different.

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

When you first met Mikage Reo you don't have good impression.

He has weird purple colored hair that you aren't sure is dyed or natural, a charismatic smile used by snakes of the business world and most importantly his refers to Nagi as "his treasure".

Now that just makes your blood boil.

Boil in a way that this sparkling water that you were barely sipping, out of a champagne flute while sitting on leather seats in a six person limo, would soon turn into boiling water that you "accidentally" drop (throw) into the heir of Mikage corporations lap.

Before thoughts come into reality, you see Nagi smoothly whisking your glass away before swallowing the bubbly mess in one gulp.

Mikage-san brightens as he pours another glass for Nagi before continuing his spew about becoming the best football star in the world or something like that.

Breaking away from Mikage-san's own world you stare at Nagi his brows twisted in concentration as he swirls a full glass clear bubbles.

You lean over, chin barely reaching his shoulder as you whisper, "You like bubbly water?"

He gives a pained expression, probably read as a blank expression from someone who did not grow up with Nagi.

"I hate the taste."

You tone becomes confused, "Then why drink mine?"

Nagi looks into the glass before taking another sip, lips frowning before turning towards the window instead of answering.

He didn't touch the rest of his glass the remainder of the car ride.

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

School continued as usual. You go to homeroom as the teacher talked about the latest events happening this week. You go through the classes in similar style, homework, correction, lecture, questions until you finally be released for lunch.

Lunch, a usual fixture of leftovers you and Nagi shared from the night before wrapped with a blue cloth with printed on bunnies for cuteness. You were about to go find Nagi until purple hair entered the classroom making his way to your desk.

If only you could be swallowed by the ground right now.

"(Y/N)-san! Im so glad I found you." Clear enthusiasm shone in his eyes, he had a presence that announced himself to the whole class room. Everybody was looking at you two.

Bloody murder that what you think but you give a smile before tilting your head, "Ah. Mikage-san is there a reason you need me?"

He sits down on the chair in front of you, legs split leaning close to your unopened bento, "I was wondering if you could tell me about Nagi."

Oh. He was on first name basis also.

He looks down before smiling bashfully, "Sorry! I know it's lunch right now please eat."

You frown wishing you could be anywhere but here, as you crack open the bento revealing small rolled eggs cut into triangles and half a hamburger steak placed next to seaweed rice along with a small amount of cut out vegetables.

The boy in front of you eyes widened as you take your first bite, "Woah that looks like the one Nagi brought to lunch." A second he blurts out, "You cook for him?"

He says it in a way that makes you feel like a maid, rather than a friend and it doesn't leave a good taste in your mouth.

"It's easier to cook for two instead of one." You interject taking a mouthful of egg, hopefully you could chew this one piece as long as the lunch break.

Reo hums before continuing, "Nagi likes hamburger steak?"

"He likes crab." And you choke because why did you feel the need to prove yourself against a boy Nagi met a week ago.

Reo grins like a cat before leaning backwards, "Crab is a good choice though I rather eat steak." He looks at your meal, "What about you (Y/N)-san?"

After taking a gulp of water you beat your chest, coughing, "Ice- cough Ice cream."

Purple iris blinked before he gives a laugh leaning his head back exposing the curve of his Adam's apple- which no you were not looking just observing- before ducking your head back into your meal. He wipes a tear away from his eye, "Ice cream isn't a meal you know."

You give a shrug not wanting to continue, "It taste good." A pause and a smaller voice, "especially salty cream flavor."

Mikage-san gives an all knowing nod before he talks all about his favorite type of he emphasizes "desserts" until the lunch bell rings.

A couple days later the heir invites both you and Nagi to lunch, where it is a spread of crab dishes and lastly to clean the palate is salty vanilla ice cream.

...He's not terrible you guess.

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

Things even get more confusing as football season went into full swing. The whole school was abuzz about Aomori Dadada High, one of the best high school team playing against a prep school during before Kanto tour was unheard of.

It wasn't until you heard Reo-san at the dinner table the other night, complain about how "easy" it was to stroke those "muscle head egos" and get them to play a game later in the week, getting the upper hand on his father or something like that.

Oh. How could you forget, Nagi started to invite Reo to dinner every night after football practice (which was every night). You stared at the two of them across the dinner table, currently munching on smoked mackerel spitting out bones.

"We could have had special grade tuna tonight if you just let Ba-ya drop by the market!" The purple head complained as he stuck a fin in his mouth to suck on. You've learned earlier that the comment wasn't more about your cooking but more about "living the fullest of life". Reo-san always had the most empty plate after dinner.

"It's fine- I be more worried if I ended up cooking it wrong and Nagi eat your carrots." You point to the carrots pushed to the side of his plate.

He gives a whine, pushing them back and forwards before looking over, "But you aren't eating your tomatoes..."

You put a hand over your miso soup, three cherry tomatoes bobbing lifelessly, covering it from scrutinizing eyes.

"I- they are sour today!"

Nagi lets out a non committal hum as Reo comments, "but tomatoes are good for your skin."

"My skin is fine Reo-san."

"She's already pretty Reo."

A pause before simultaneously all of you turned a different shade of red. Reo is the first to break the silence hands flailing, "He means you could be a model! You know the ones that are on the bulletin board promoting Calpico fresh!"

The red on your cheek darkens before you mumble, "I've only seen the ads with the girls in swimsuits." On the way to school there be smiling girl holding a bottle of Calico fresh as the showed just enough cleavage to the camera but not enough to distract you from the product itself. They all had flawless photoshopped skin tucked into a tight yellow bikini.

Reo, face as red as yours now (probably remembered the same ad), cries before ducking his face into his hands, "I mean the ad with the school uniform!" Before he gives a groan, "That sounds even worse."

You look at Nagi, the instigator as he stared at the curves of his fish bones a faint cherry red painted on the tip of his ears before he mutters, "Yellow is nice."

You kick both him and Reo underneath the table as you pop a cherry from your soup into your mouth urging them out of the kitchen so you could clean in peace.

.

.

.

It's game day, and you have not wanted (or did you) to continue that conversation at the dinner table. Instead you kept your head down sipping on now a mix of orange and cranberry juice in the Mikage's limo instead of that bubbly monstrosity people says is water.

Life has gone on rather normally other than the new friendship with Reo-san. What was more noticeable was instead of the yellow bikinied girl posing on a billboard it was now replaced with a more family friendly ad showing a girl in a summer uniform, head tilting back as she drank Calpico fresh, the word "refreshing" curved on top of her head.

You blinked, staring at the Mikage heir, him refusing to make eye contact with you.

Money could do anything.

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

There was excitement in school that day. People gossiped about how Aomori Dadada high school would be arriving and that this be the spectacle of the year.

After the last bell rang you could see almost all the classroom make a mad dash towards the field. You included though behind the mass of crowd as you see figures on the field facing what seemed to be students two times their muscle build.

You're glad this wasn't American football, you know you be seeing Reo-san and Nagi in the nearest hospital.

"Miss (Y/N-san)." You turn to Reo's personal attendant an elderly lady who stood a good two heads taller than you, back hunched but suit bulking with muscle.

You give a greeting, "Ba-ya-san, weather is nice today." You look past the ocean of people noticing the kick off, "Think they will win?"

A chuckle answers your questions as she nods, "Though Mr. Mikage-sama does not agree with his son's decisions they share simmilarities, talent seeks talent Ms. (Y/N)-san."

Your eye brow rises, "That's why Reo-san is attached to Nagi? Because of talent?" The ball flies into the air as the crowd erupts into a roar you can barely hear the elderly women reply.

"Do you not agree?"

You shrug.

"No." You think about the more lively lunches, Nagi coming home exhausted with a hint of a smile, Reo eventually joining for dinner every night. You heart twinges with sadness as the whistle blows announcing the first goal of the inning. Nagi being tackled by Reo the two of them barely balancing on two feet.

"It just seems more than talent, that's all."

──────────── ✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.* ────────────

Your world is shifting, rapidly.

From a singular world that revolved around Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage was forcing himself in this pocket of happiness. You be lying if you said you didn't mind before, but now his presence would be missed if he stopped hanging out with you both.

Reading through Nagi's letter from the Blue Lock Project, identical to Reo's letter (other than name) felt like vertigo.

Reo had excitement showing on his face, Nagi a look of boredom and you?

What type of look were you making right now?

"It's huge news (Y/N)! This is the first step of becoming top of the world, not only that but we will be meeting other stepping stones there that will take us further." He puts an arm over Nagi's shoulder who was playing on his phone, "We will become the best players in the world."

Again, like the start of Nagi's football journey you give a congratulations, "It's- ah" You look for the words a moment before you decide:

It felt like they were both leaving you behind, because talent craves talents and you, what did you do? A world of you Nagi and Reo was not seeming that realistic but you knew you had to answer as expectant purple eyes brimming with excitement waited for your answer.

"It's wonderful."

It must of not been the right word because Reo's face drops and Nagi even pauses his game sits up shuffling closer before he reaches out for you, "Don't do that."

You frowned, "Do what?"

He puts a hand on your cheek, cold, as he gently pressing his thumb against the bottom of your eyes rubbing back and forward.

"Cry."

You laugh, a type of laugh that gets caught in your throat, "I'm not though." Nagi grey eyes focused on you keeps pressing his thumb against you cheek as Reo reaches over taking your hands pressing them together to stop them from shaking, rubbing small circles against your wrists.

You didn't even realize you were shaking.

The heir's voice dropped into a soothing voice, reassuring, "It says a couple months..." He grins, confidence flooding his face, "But it will take only a couple weeks knowing how talented I am and how genius Nagi is." He hasn't stopped rubbing circles.

You sight, leaning into Nagi's hand as he moves his hand to the back of your nap massaging the tension, "You guys will eat healthy, right?"

Reo squeezed his hands against your as Nagi hums in agreement.

"And you guys will be together? You won't miss me?"

It was instantaneous.

"How could we not!" Purple irises burn with sincerity.

"It be hard not to miss you." Lazy eyes blink.

You give a small laugh leaning against Nagi's shoulder and gave a tight squeeze against Reo's in agreement. It was hard to believe Nagi was your only treasure before Reo butted into your life, I guess now you had two.

"Okay. I'll wait for you both to come back then."

[crushribbons]

𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔥

summary: It's hard for Don Hume to talk about awkward subjects.

cw: 5k words, established relationship fluffiness, SMUT (18+ ONLY), protected penetrative sex, fingering, light choking (monkey covering eyes emoji), barely edited, definitely not researched, fem reader/OC, this is a work of fiction about the character from tbitb and not the actual historical figure (like duh). based off an anon request.

a/n: but daddy i love him!!!! xx laney

Don handed the vendor a few coins and accepted the rose the man passed him. He turned and handed it to her, and she blushed.

“Stop spending all your money on me,” she scolded gently, running her fingertips over the delicate scarlett petals. 

Don simply said, “No,” and offered her his elbow, which she took with a shake of her head and a laugh. Don Hume must have been born under the sign of the bull, warm and stubborn as he was.

“You’re going to have to sell that gold medal soon enough,” she teased. Don shrugged and the two continued walking down the street. It was twilight, and fireflies were blinking lazily around their heads as street lights turned on and the city lane bustled with nightlife. Dim green flickers illuminated his hazel eyes, usually downcast but twinkling tonight. She nestled herself against the strong arm holding hers and enjoyed the scent of rain that seemed to waft off him permanently. 

When she’d first told him, in their biology lecture, how lovely he smelled, the pure bemusement on his face had been more than enough to send her flying head over heels for the presumed-mute rower. 

“I don’t…own any cologne,” he’d replied after several minutes, choking out the words under his breath with great difficulty while the lecturer droned on, heedless to the many slumbering students that were snoring along to his lesson. 

“Well, I guess you just smell good, then,” she’d said. They had turned back to their notebooks and pens. It took Don three and a half more months and qualifying for the Olympics to ask her to dinner, but she patiently sat through every “Would you…um…ah, never mind…” until the blessed day when he finally got all the words out in the correct order. 

He’d been a combination of too embarrassed and too violently anxious to let her kiss him goodbye when he boarded the train for the team’s trip to Berlin. They had stood on the platform in front of the passenger car, a miserable Don muttering under his breath. She was fussing with his tie and blazer, struggling not to be battered around by the throng of well-wishers seeing the boys off, when his eyes suddenly widened and he said, “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. Stop moving, the knot still looks wrong.”

“No,” He shook his head, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance where his inevitable demise awaited him. “No, what if I screw this up for everyone?”

She finished wrestling his tie into a passable windsor knot and stepped back from him, smoothing off his blazer. “And what if you win?”

“I–”

“Donald, do not pick now to be the first time you argue with me.” She smiled and his knees, already jelly from nerves and anticipation, seemed just about ready to give way. “But, you should know: I don’t much care for silver jewelry,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. His face burned a bashful red where she’d touched it that spread down over his neck. 

One thing she could never accuse Don of was not listening to her. He made note of her distaste for silver and brought her gold, instead.

As they walked down the street arm in arm, her chatting about everything he’d missed in his time away and him listening placidly, she couldn’t stop herself from just staring at him. Spending time with Don made her feel like she was getting a glimpse into a private world that no one else was privy to, and she felt privileged by it. He kept everything about himself, including his countless victories, so wrapped up and tucked away that sometimes, it was hard for her to remember that he wasn’t just your average undergraduate. No one they passed by on the street would have been able to guess that the man next to her was a world-renowned athlete. No one, absolutely no–

“Hey, look who it is!” Joe Rantz and Joyce Simdars were strolling towards them, a mirror image of the puppy love their friends were wrapped up in. Joyce squealed and ran to her sorority sister, who threw her arms around Joyce’s neck and told her how pretty she looked. The two boyfriends exchanged knowing looks and shook hands with each other, immediately falling into a discussion of the crew practice they’d had that afternoon. 

Joyce stopped complimenting her friend’s dress to scowl at Joe and scold, “No strategizing on our date night, dear.”

“Yes, dearest,” Joe responded with understated exaggeration and the utmost devotion. The two ladies turned back to each other and began chattering about school and social events, but when she caught a snatch of the conversation the boys were having, she strained to tune into it. 

“Hey, no, come on,” Don was mumbling and he looked down at the ground and kicked at some invisible nuisance. 

Joe was clearly ribbing him. He poked at his solemn teammate’s shoulder and said something that she couldn’t make out over Joyce’s explanation of the party she was planning for the team now that they were stateside once more. Don shook his head adamantly in response, and Joe chuckled. 

She craned her neck as subtly as she could while still appearing engaged with Joyce, a vapid smile in place as she tried in desperation to catch what the two men were talking about that was making Don more uncomfortable than he’d been that night Bobby forced him to play piano for half their class. Only bits and pieces from Joe reached her ears: “Well, maybe…why not?...Sure, she would…” Her espionage was abruptly shut down as Joe reached over to pinch Joyce’s cheek. “Hate to break this up, but the film starts at 8:00, honey.” 

Joyce gasped and looked down at her watch. “We’ve got to go! I’ll see you,” she promised, and the two girls exchanged hugs and kisses. The couple wiggled their fingers as they passed them and bid them goodnight. 

Don was staring at Joe’s back when his girl tucked her hand back in the crook of his arm and asked, “What all were you two talking about?” He squirmed and didn’t answer. They resumed walking, so she allowed a few more paces before she asked again. 

“Nothin’, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head again to indicate the finality of his refusal to answer. She bopped him gently on his nose with the rose. 

“Tell me!” “It wasn’t proper, you know,” Don coughed and cleared his throat. “For a lady to hear.” He glanced at her nervously, like perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that she was a lady. 

She sighed. “And what about for me to hear?” Her boyfriend’s mouth moved like a fish’s, opening and closing without sound, searching for any word at all that would end this line of questioning. “Tell meee!”

He threw his hands up, a tiny movement but so unbearably dramatic for him. “No! Ask him yourself if you wanna know!” “Fine!” She turned around and inhaled as if she was fixing to scream down the block, knowing it would scare the living daylights out of him. “Hey, J–!”

Don gave a small cry of despair and wrenched her along by her shoulders so she would continue walking with him. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you.” She didn’t hide her giggle of triumph from him, and he looked like he wanted to remain frustrated, but just couldn’t. He looked around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard, then took a deep breath and spat out in one mortified mumble, “He just asked if we h-had, if we were going to, if we’d slept together, alright?” It seemed he was one more embarrassment away from being sick all over the sidewalk.

Her eyebrows were raised when he finally worked up the nerve to look at her. “Oh, is that all?” 

Don was horrified. “All?” he repeated in an incredulous whisper. She had to smile. 

“Come now, everyone does it, Donny!” She paused a beat while considering her next words. Her deliberation led her to the conclusion that they would make her boyfriend blush oh-so-prettily. “Joyce tells me about her and Joe all the ti–” The closest thing to a whimper she’d ever heard come out of Don Hume’s mouth came out of his mouth. “It’s nothing bad!” she reassured him quickly. “All nice things and nothing too intimate! Girlfriends just share with each other. Don’t you and the boys ever chat about things like that?” She remembered who she was talking to and sighed. “Never mind.” 

His face was contorting painfully, like it couldn’t decide what emotion to land on. He shoved both his hand into his pockets, inadvertently pinning her arm to his side, and mumbled, “Well, anyway. I didn’t share anything.” 

There’s not much to share yet, she thought, but to Don she said, “Such a gentleman,” and laid her head on his shoulder. It had been one month since he’d asked her to dinner and five days since he’d been back from Berlin, and she thought she very well might die if they didn’t, well, give Joe something to tease Don about further. 

Their first piece of affection that wasn’t a timid peck on the cheek had come as Don had pushed his way wordlessly through the gargantuan crowd at Washington State welcoming the team home from their gold medal win, locked in on the tiny sliver of forehead he could make out bouncing up and down slightly in excitement. When he had finally reached her, he stooped to cradle the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss that almost knocked her unconscious. As he’d pulled away, he’d whispered bluntly, “I missed you.” 

Since then, she’d been able to do little else than think about the way he’d held her, the way his mouth felt on hers. But the aggressively respectful stroke had hardly touched her since. He walked her to her doorstep after every date, spent whatever sparse pocket change he had on her without thought, and carried a tiny picture of her face (that he had cut out of the school newspaper article on her sorority’s spring benefit) in his wallet. 

And she was sleeping with a photograph of him in his first Olympic race, face a knot of concentration and exertion, sweat-slicked hair hanging in his eyes, lean muscle evident in every line of his body. And it wasn’t so she had sweet dreams about him. 

She was mortified by her actions, that she couldn’t control herself the way Don could. Every time he dropped her off, she imagined him saying, “Actually, I don’t give a damn about your reputation or protecting your heart. I’d so much rather just see you without clothes on,” but, unsurprisingly, he never did. It was part of the reason she’d fallen for him, and part of the reason she now wanted to throttle a little passion into him. 

She closed her eyes and hummed a silent meditation on patience while Don stopped to look in the window of a hardware store. He was peering into the closed shop, scanning their aisles with an interest that only the son of a hardware store owner could exhibit, when they both spoke at the same time.

“We are going to sleep together, though, aren’t we?”

“This place never keeps enough varnish in stock.” 

They both blinked at each other, then spoke in unison once more.

“What?”

She colored, but held her resolve. “I mean, you do want to, right? With me?” Don’s shoulders were creeping up towards his ears, a defense mechanism learned from years of trying to remain as invisible as possible. He glanced wildly around the street, which was steadily emptying as the evening sky darkened further, as if enemy spies were going to leap out from behind a corner and arrest them for leaking government secrets. Cornered.

He stammered for a few, solid minutes. Patience, you are falling in love with this man and you will afford him the patience he deserves, she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. “You are not taking advantage of me by wanting to, darling,” she assured him, and reached up to smooth down Don’s jacket like she always did. The contact eased his breathing back to a healthy pace. “You know that, right?”

“Alright,” he said. But he still looked miserable while he searched for his next words. Her heart broke a little bit for her sweet and anxious lover.

“Do you want to just put this off ‘til later?”

The answer came back with more urgency than she’d ever seen Don use before. “No! No, I mean, no. We can…we should…” He trailed off and met her eyes for the first time since this awkwardness had begun, and decided that was enough. “Yeah, we should.” His shoulders dropped back down to their normal position.

She couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at her lips. “Oh, should we?” she asked through the grin. Don shot her a look that said please do not make me regret leaving the house today, an expression that was omni-present whenever Bobby Moch was around. God, he was adorable like this.

“So…” She swung her handbag back and forth and spoke as if they were discussing the weather. “Should we…tonight?” His eyes widened, betraying the fact that he clearly hadn’t even considered that as a possibility.

Don Hume, forever true to form, nodded.

They had to be careful. There were strict rules about boys in the girls’ student housing, but there were also generations’ worth of knowledge, passed down from resourceful and clever women, on how to evade those rules. Sneak in before the final lights out call, always use the front door instead of the side one where a disgruntled matron often sat up keeping watch, never let a guy accidentally leave his jacket behind. The network of girls that worked like a perfect underground railroad of boy smuggling came out in full force for the couple as they padded, silently and with shoes in hand, up the stairs to her dormitory bedroom. Sorority sister Betty was distracting the matron posted near the side door, bemoaning her period cramps and bursting into over-exaggerated meltdowns about how she’d never pass her history seminar or be asked out by Clark Gable. Don actually had to stifle a laugh as they both slipped into her empty bedroom and she shut the door behind them with the utmost care. 

“She’s good.”

“She owes me.” Don’s eyebrows rose, but he asked no further questions. He was standing across from her as she turned to him and pressed her back against the door, his hands once again in his pockets. The two stared at each other for a good long while. 

Finally, she figured it would be safe to remove her coat and hang it on the coat rack beside the door. The movement did not spook Don into running, so she threw her shoes to the ground, too. 

He was surveying the four beds in the room. “Which one’s yours?” he finally asked, breaking the tension that only she seemed to be feeling. She pointed towards the far bed on the left side of the room, the one made neatly with rose-printed sheets. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked. They lapsed into silence again, and she wondered if Don was waiting until he was caught by a matron and cast out, avoiding this whole uncomfortable situation. Perhaps they shouldn’t have decided this so flippantly, maybe Don was the kind of man who needed–In two strides, he crossed the room to her and grabbed her neck the same way he had upon his return from the Olympics. She could only mumble “Oh,” before Don had his mouth pressed against hers. His kiss was hungry, hands suddenly eager to explore everywhere they’d never been. Her back was still pressed against the door when she pushed him away and ordered breathlessly, “Bed, go, now.”

Don hadn’t become the most famous stroke in the world by not taking orders well. He scooped her up in the bridal style, scaring a little yelp out of her that he quickly smothered by kissing her again. Her back hit the bed and she felt him awkwardly hover over her, their lips still locked together. She reached up for the length of his tie and pulled him down on top of her by it. 

He let out a short “Oof!” as he stumbled on top of her, but corrected himself in no time, swinging his legs on either side of hers. If I let Don be in charge here, she thought, while their tongues tangled together, we would be here all night. Actually, I could make peace with that. 

But she would have to make her peace another time, because they did not have all night tonight. They had maybe a comfortable twenty-minute cushion between Betty’s diversionary theatrics and the remaining time before the lights out rounds were made. And the way Don was making her feel, the inadvertent and desperate grinding against her…they certainly did not have all night. 

She pushed him up again, and this time, he actually made a noise of protest that some may have classified as a whine. His eyes searched her face frantically as she pulled herself out from under him, yanked his suit jacket off and tossed it to the ground, and told him to lay down on his back. His unquestioning obedience and the look he gave her as he settled on his back, ankles crossed, and began undoing his tie and shirt buttons made her core flood. She clutched a throw pillow for support as she watched him. 

Trying not to notice the way his cock was straining against his pants, she climbed her way up his frame, settling around his waist the way he had just done. Don’s freckles stood out on his rapidly pinking skin. She was leaning down to kiss him again when he blurted, “I love you!”

She snapped her neck back up like she’d been electrocuted and cried, “What?!”

Don flattened himself against the bed, like maybe she wouldn’t be able to see him if he was absorbed by the mattress. His chest and stomach were bare, and he looked mortified. The contrast of his sweet, abashed expression while he chewed the inside of his mouth and tried to babble an apology for declaring his love against his sinfully hot body beneath her made her head spin, and it was with no further hesitation that she blurted back, “I love you, too!”

He grinned in his own way, and his eyes pooled with affection. Of course she loved him; she was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. The second he’d stuttered his first failed attempt at flirting with her, she’d been a goner. Don sat up, gently shifting her so she was straddling him, and ran his hand through her hair. She waited for him to say something else, then remembered whose lap she was sitting in. 

“Weren’t we just in the middle of something?” she whispered into his lips, their noses now pressed together, and she felt his quirky, down-turned smile against hers.

“Were we?” 

“Donald Hume, you can be a tease sometimes.” She kissed him and he responded by snapping into action like the athlete he was, kissing her back and wrapping his arms around her. He pulled away to gaze up at her as she rose to her knees and began undoing the line of buttons that ran down the entire front of her dress. 

“Just tell me what to do, baby,” he said. A moan leaked out of her at the pure devotion and awe in his eyes. She let her dress fall down to the floor and stepped out of it, then indicated that he should sit back against the headboard. Don obliged, his breathing shallow and eyes huge as he took in the sight of her crawling back onto his lap. His rough fingers ghosted up her thighs when she sat down.

I’ve been an idiot, she mused, as she slowly worked the zipper on his pants down and pulled his already-dripping cock free. I should have pulled this mug into bed months ago. When she pulled her own undergarments off and Don’s eyes, on respectful instinct, flew shut, she laughed.

“You can look at me, Don,” she giggled. Her permission given, his eyes snapped back open and he drank in the sight of her, his hand skating up from her thighs to grasp every inch of skin that he could. Her cunt pressing against him was already dangerously wet, and she ground down hard, coaxing a strangled little “ah!” from him. 

Then reality bit into her ankle, and she groaned. “Do you have a rubber?” she asked through her hands after they had covered her face. If it was awkward for her to ask it, she couldn’t imagine what Don’s face must look like hearing it. He stammered for long enough for her to suss out the fact that he did not have one, and she was about to give up and fuck him anyway when she remembered that she lived with three other red-blooded women. “Oh!” she cried. “Wait, I know Betty has some.” 

Don, once more, asked no questions about what Betty got up to in her free time. He just looked terribly grateful for her as his lover emerged, victorious, from rummaging around the co-ed’s top dresser drawer with a box of Sheiks pinched in her fingers and a breathless glee on her face. She let him tug it on then decided they’d spent enough time dancing around their discomfort. 

“Come on,” she ordered, and climbed on top of him one last time. “I want you, Donny. Bad.”

“Oh, but aren’t you–” He held her in place while she tried desperately to line his cock up with her entrance. When his fingers pushed against her instead, swirling them inside her with his tongue trapped between his lips in concentration, she wondered if someone had broken in and switched places with her meek boyfriend. His doe eyes staring up at her, he begged in hardly above a whisper, “Please let me get you good and ready, please. I’m…” He trailed off and turned the brightest shade of red that she’d seen yet, and his gaze traveled down to the impressively large member between his legs. 

“You are big,” she agreed, and Don groaned and buried his face in her shoulder. “Baby, that’s not something to be embarrassed about,” she cried as she tried to yank him up by his hair and make him look her in the face. His fingers were still buried inside her, and even through his extreme shame at having a cock so big that it would hurt, he never stopped pumping them and drawing gasps and moans that she tried to stifle against his neck. He ground the heel of his calloused palm gently against her clit and caused her legs to tremble until she could no longer support herself on them and fell flush against his lap. 

She was a panting, crumpled mess folded up against his strong body, and she almost didn’t have it in her to roll her eyes when Don asked, “Was that alright?”

When she finally sank down onto him, he moaned, every inch of composure flying out of him. His posture, perfected from the long hours in the shell, sagged. “Oh, G–fuck,” he mumbled. It was the first time she’d ever heard him swear, and despite the pleasure that was making her eyes water, she almost laughed. Then his hands wrapped around her hips and lifted her up slightly and she felt the heavy drag of his cock inside her and a string of nonsense fell from her instead. She didn’t have to contribute in the slightest, in spite of her position straddling him. Don just bounced her up and down like she was nothing more than a vision he was having, and from the way his eyes were drifting heavenward, maybe she was. 

But he was still too much of a gentleman. “Faster,” she gasped, the fingers of her right hand wrapping unconsciously around the front of his neck to steady herself. 

“Are you coxxing me?” he huffed with a grin. The grin vanished when she squeezed a little and he felt the choke build up in his throat, his eyes rolling back for a second. The sight floored her.

“Oh, d-d’ya like…?” She tried to tease him but Don had started thrusting harder, grinding them both together like they’d never get the chance to do this again, and the words died on her tongue. Graciously, he tried to revive them by kissing her. He had to push hard against the hand on his throat, but he did it, never one to give up on anything. Pleasure was gagging the both of them, her as unable to form words as Don usually was. He pressed his forehead against hers and their breath mingled into one. 

“I l-love you, baby,” he said. She could tell his shyness and stoic composure were very nearly worn off now. She could tell it especially was when he started rambling, his nose bumping against her shoulder as he kept fucking her with relentless speed: “M’beautiful girl, beautiful, sweet girl. Ever since–first talked t’you, won every race for you, every stroke for you…wanted to make you proud…” He pulled his neck up with great effort and looked deep in her eyes. “Did I make you proud, baby?”

A cry tore its way out of her as his cock shredded against her just perfectly. She pushed Don back down on the bed and started riding him in earnest, wanting him to know exactly how he made her feel. Proud of him? It didn’t begin to cover how she’d felt when she’d heard the giddy announcer scream over the radio waves, “And it’s just come through, folks: AMERICA has taken the gold medal for rowing crew! What a spectacular display from our boys!” Don’s lips were pressed tightly together as he watched her chase down the knot of desire and pleasure that was building inside her.

“Don, I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life, and I never will be,” she panted, scraping her nails down his defined pectorals and ignoring the cry of indignation he gave. A deep red blush blossomed under her fingers, dragging down to his stomach. She hadn’t broken skin, but the light pain had still made Don’s back arch in a very telling way. He looked a complete mess, quite unlike the man who had picked her up in front of her building four hours previously with hair neatly gelled and shabby suit jacket pressed. Now, thick strands of black hair fell all over his face as he sucked air into his deprived lungs. Her poor little bed frame creaked and groaned, protesting the activities taking place on top of it. Rusted springs provided an unwelcome soundtrack to their lovemaking, but she found that she didn’t even notice it. 

When she began rolling her hips in perfect rhythm with the thrusts he was giving from beneath her, his cock brushed against something inside of her that she’d never been acquainted with before, but the bliss that erupted from her toes to her fingertips made her throw her head back and cry his name hoarsely. The orgasm was unreal, blinding and satisfying and all due to the man between her legs who was currently trying very hard not to lose his mind at the sensation of her walls tightening around him. 

He kept his lips pressed together and his thrusts small and even until she’d recovered. Her legs had turned to jelly. Something mischievous whispered in her ear as she looked down at Don’s desperate, adorable face, and she took a leaf out of his book and obeyed it. 

She leaned forward, still sensitive as he thrust shallowly inside her, and wrapped both of her hands around his throat again. His eyes shut and his head lolled against the pillow, and within seconds he was giving a hoarse whimper and cumming. He sighed through the feeling, pumping his hips upward into her. “Fuck,” she whispered. All of him was hers, she realized with a jolt, as she looked down at Don’s sweat-slicked face and kiss-swollen lips. The realization was heavy and heady and made her want even more of him.

They laid next to each other for just a few seconds. She would have asked for hours more if she hadn’t known that they could be interrupted at any moment. Don’s chest rose and fell slowly now, his eyes unblinking. 

As usual, she spoke first. “That was wonderful.” Don rolled to his side so he could look at her and nodded, a dreamy little smirk on his lips that she very much wanted to kiss.  “I think I’ll write Joe a nice note thanking him.” He rolled back away from her and covered his face, groaning while she giggled. 

“I’m still not telling him anything,” he muttered when she got out of bed and began re-dressing and tossing his clothes back at him. He sat up and pulled the condom off, and she was grateful to see he had the good sense to wrap it in a tissue from her desk before disposing of it in the communal waste basket.

“Baby, you won’t have to.” Don followed her finger with his eyes to where it was pointing: the vivid red scratch marks carved down his torso from collarbone to abdomen, and he lept up, cursing.

“We have to take photographs in our uniforms tomorrow! They’ll show over my kit!” he cried, the most frantic and upset she’d ever seen him. She covered her grin with her hand.

“Well, save a print for me, won’t you?”

masterlist

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 2

The night started with only one body, and now there are two; both the Headmage and the Ramshackle Prefect are dead. Will the killer ever be found before more people die?

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Divus Crewel, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengroto, Silver, Jade Leech, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Murder, blood, death, reader death, character death, description of a dead body & method of death, dead dove content in general

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Go to this Google Form!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

It was foolish, it was dangerous, but Jade could not blame the Ramshackle prefect for wanting out of that room. He may be used to — in some sense — the eyes clouded in distrust that are usually sent his way, but the Prefect? To have their friends turn on them in such a manner? He could not blame them for fleeing, for wanting to distance themselves. Yet, fleeing was how they ended up in this situation, and Jade froze at the top of the staircase to the main hall.

He had seen blood before, for the ocean was not a kind place, he had witnessed death, but the scene in front of him? He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

In some sick turn of events, you were now dead. Glassy eyes, and a peaceful expression on your face. You didn’t know… it was sudden.

“Jade-” Azul was coming up from down the hall… he wouldn’t be able to see the scene, and Jade lifted his hand, motioning him to stop, which Azul did. “... did you find them?” 

Jade nodded, and Azul could tell from his posture that something was horribly wrong. He was shaken, a rare sight, which could only spell the worst.

…

…

Everyone had come back to the mirror chamber, with the last two people being Jade and Azul. All eyes were on them.

“What’s with the gloomy faces,” Cater asked, fidgeting with his phone, a nervous habit.

Jade cleared his throat, “The Prefect is dead.” His voice was monotone, but everyone could tell that it disturbed him, a rare thing indeed.

Several things happened at once. Professor Crewel started shaking visibly. Rook had silent tears rolling down his face. Vil took a step back, face pale. Cater stopped fidgeting and was now clenching his fists. And Silver clenched his jaw, and was standing stiff as a board.

Whoever the killer was, they did a good job of hiding it. Did they find this amusing? Why did they do this? What is their motive?

“Who came across them?” Professor Crewel said through gritted teeth.

Jade looked at the man with suspicion, “I did, sir.” He knew what the next question would be; ‘how did they die?’ “... their throat had been slit.”

If he had done it, wouldn’t he be covered in blood? Eyes scanned over everyone, but as far as they could all tell, no one had a speck of blood on them. 

“We need to stick together,” Azul spoke up, analyzing everyone knowing they were doing the same in turn to him. “And since the prefect,” his voice pitched a bit, his emotions getting the better of him, “was innocent, we have to vote again.”

Everyone shuffled, but once again they all wrote down who they thought the murderer was, the room, and the weapon; whoever killed Crowley had thought it would be ‘funny’ to dispose of the Prefect in the manner the majority thought they had disposed of the Headmage. 

“Seven people, eight rooms, six weapons. One person is guilty, two dead, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.” The mirror repeated what it had said last time, but with adjustments to reflect what had happened since then. 

Everyone waited with bated breath as the mirror started to show who was voted. And in the mirror was Professor Crewel in the main hall, with his mage stone in hand.

The mirror then faded again to black, “He is not the killer. The Headmage was not killed in the main hall. The weapon is magic.”

Divus was shaking again, and everyone knew that this time it was anger; he was first angry that the Prefect was killed, as he was technically responsible for them with being staff and all, but now that his own students had thought him capable that he would murder Crowley. Yes, the man aggravated him to no end, but he wouldn’t stoop to homicide of all things. And these pups had also thought that he would slit the throat of one of his own students… So yes, he was angry, rightfully so. 

Instead of lashing out though, Divus took in a long breath through his nose, and let it out through his mouth, getting a grip on himself. He was the eldest here, he couldn’t let his ire and grief get the best of him and make him do something foolish… that’s how you had met your end after all.

“From here on out we will be staying together,” he barked out. “Do not stray from the group. Am I understood?”

Everyone gave him a pensive nod as their answer, turning their eyes back to one another, judging, analyzing, trying to pin a motive on one another. 

Divus cracked his whip against the ground, gathering everyone’s attention. “Now, Jade, can you show us where the Prefect is?”

Everyone looked to Jade, and he nodded, guiding everyone to the main hall. “Do be warned though,” he murmured, just loud enough so that everyone could hear him, “it isn’t for the weak of heart.”

…

…

It had been a few hours since Crowley was killed, and now everyone understood why the crime scene was so clean; magic killed him, someone had used their magic to kill the Headmage. But your death was not clean, it was a bloody mess. And since Jade had seen the scene before, everyone else had not.

Rook grimaced but didn’t look away from you, tears running down his face again. Silver put his hand over his mouth and looked away, as if he was going to be sick. Cater nearly fainted, and was bracing himself on the bannister. Divus was shaking again, and his anger was back in full force. Vil had seen you, but then looked up to the ceiling; he didn’t want his last memory of you to be this. And Azul, Azul was shaking, and pacing; thinking.

Jade’s jaw was clenched, and he wasn’t looking at the scene again, but his mind was trying to put the pieces together. Why kill the Prefect?

But his train of thought was interrupted by a loud crash of thunder, and the power went out. The thunder continued for a solid minute, drowning out any other sounds. And by the time the power flickered weakly back on, Professor Crewel was crumpled on the ground, face distorted in anger and shock. 

He was dead, much like the Headmage and the Prefect.

There was no blood this time either, with the weapon finally pinned, it seemed like the murderer stuck with it, playing into this game. A sick game… would he win? Or can the remaining students find him before there is no one left?

LINK TO FORM (Voting will end on Friday, October 13th at 9 pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

...

To be continued