#we did not plan this but it made for a very funny conversation today

[slav-every-day]

[ilypaigebuckets]

Can you maybe write a Kate Martin x reader fic where the reader is asked to be mic'd up at one of her games?

sorry i couldn’t think of a good title for this🙁 i hope you like this tho!

Mic’d Up - Kate Martin x Reader

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Ever since your girlfriend had gotten drafted, the media had been all over your relationship. Even at Iowa fans had loved the two of you together, but once she was drafted into the Aces was when your love really made headlines. People admired you and Kate not only as a queer couple in media, but also as a healthy and loving couple. There were countless edits of the two of you flirting at halftime, snuggling up to each other before and after games, and overall just being a really cute couple.

You were so excited when you were asked to be mic’d up for the Aces latest game. While you were a little confused at first because you weren’t actually a player, the team’s media manager assured you the fans would love it. So there you were, standing in front of the basketball court to film your introduction before the game started.

“Hey, guys! It’s Y/n L/n here, professional WNBA girlfriend and today I’m mic’d up for the Aces game!” Suddenly Kate ran up behind you and hugged you from behind, lifting you off the ground. You giggled and Kate set you down on the ground. You turned around and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, going on your tiptoes to hug her closer.

“Speaking of girlfriend, this is my superstar girlfriend Kate!” Kate rolled her eyes are you playfully and looked away, embarrassed from your praise of her. “You ready for the game, babe?” She sucked her teeth in response to the question and held you close to her chest, absentmindedly playing with your hair.

“Uh honestly I’m pretty nervous but we’re just gonna give it all that we got and I’m just gonna try my best!” You smiled at her answered and reached up to pinch her cheeks, “Isn’t she just adorable, guys?” You asked looking at the camera.

Soon enough, Kate had to go warm up and you went to your spot. You watched her warm up and made conversation with a random man sitting next to you.

“Who are you here to watch? You see 20? That one’s mine!” You took out your phone and started taking pictures of Kate warming up. “She’s so cute. Look at her!! She’s gonna shoot it!” Kate runs and shoots the ball and makes it in the net. She was so excited when she made it and looked over at you to see if you saw it too. She ran up to you and sat in the empty chair next to you, talking about her shot and her plans for this game.

“AMAZING BABY!! Yes I saw! Focus, honey! Yes I love you too! Good luck! Yes, okay baby focus keep warming up!” You could tell Kate was nervous out of her mind for the game so you took her hand in yours, completely forgetting you were mic’d up. You reassured your girlfriend that yes, you were watching her and yes, she was doing amazing and yes, you loved her very much and yes, she did have to leave right that second and go check in because the other team had arrived and they were about to start the game. Kate nodded her head at you and stood up. It was funny, you knew she had to go but as soon as she started to get up you grabbed her hand.

“Wait,” you told her and you pulled her in for a quick peck on the lips. She smirked at you and winked as she walked back to her teammates. You laughed and whispered to yourself, “Wow I love that I get to do that.”

The game was very eventful, but the Aces were doing amazing. Your girlfriend, especially was on fire. She was making shots left and right and it was clear she was growing more confident the more she played. You watched the game earnestly as Kate ran after a player on the opposing team and she was about to make a shot. Suddenly, Kate jumped up and blocked the ball.

You couldn’t help but jump up in joy. “That’s my girl!” You raised your arms above up to cheer and accidentally hit the guy next to you in the head. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You said to him, but he was laughing so you knew it was alright. “I hope nobody caught that..” you whispered to yourself.

“Guys,” You said to the mic, “Kate looks so editable right now. Look at how cute she is. Like you know that one song ‘ and you say daddy’s home’? literally her right now. Okay let’s edit that part out. Please.”

The whistle blew and the game was over, the Aces having won 76-68. Kate was over the moon and ran over to you as soon as she finished celebrating with her teammates. She ran up to you and picked you up, twirling you around. “I love when she does this,” you whispered into the mic. She put you down and you put you hands on either side of her face. “I’m so proud of you.” You pulled her face down to kiss her forehead.

Kate grinned and stole a kiss from your lips. “I’m glad. Wanna go get ice cream now?” You laughed and nodded, rolling your eyes.

“I hope you guys enjoyed me being mic’d up! Great job to everyone tonight and to everyone watching thanks for the support I know the team really appreciates it!” You pulled the mic off your shirt and handed it back to the media manager, following Kate into the locker room.

[persefolli]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬, 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐀𝐠𝐞-𝐆𝐚𝐩

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐥

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Okay, Y/n, they're all yours.” 

A heavily pregnant Neytiri bid you goodbye before leaving her home. You were entrusted to watch both of the clan leaders' children, Neteyam, and Kiri, while both of the Sully parents worked during the day. Although it was two of them, and two kids, Neytiri still seemed as if she carried the load, which was the reasoning behind her exhaustion and irritability. 

Jake lingered around the home a lot, his meetings were held locally, and he usually had one or two na’vi runners to spread any news or plans he had to other clan members. From the outside, he seemed like a very hands-on leader, but after watching it play out behind closed doors, he was actually very lazy at times. 

You sat on the floor of the living space, watching the two toddlers as they crawled all over you. From nowhere, Jake came and scooped up his eldest son. “Arg! You gonna be good today? Hm boy?” He held and shook Neteyam in the air playfully. THe boy did nothing but let out a loud scream. Jake chuckled and set him down, watching as Neteyam crawled back over to you. .

“Seems he likes you more than me.” He smiled, which made his outer eye corners crinkle. Jake was younger than previous Olo’eyktan’s, physically at least, but it seems his duties aged him by a mile. “That’s okay,” He said with a sigh. “We all like Y/n. Isn’t that right?” He looked between the two children who paid no mind to him and paid more attention to the bright colored beads that were in your hair. 

You blushed slightly and looked back towards the kids. Amongst your friends, Jake was ranked at the top of the list for the most attractive men in the clan. He was strong, and willing to break tradition, and what na’vi girl didn’t like men who rebelled? Your friends and your sisters might've been calling him fine as a harmless comment, but you deluded yourself into forming a small crush on him. The more you were around him the more you felt a certain pit building in your stomach. It was embarrassing to admit but unlike your peers you've never felt the touch of a man. Being in Jake’s presence sent your skin ablaze, and his voice almost made you combust into flames. You knew it was wrong to lust over your older, married Olo’eyktan, but the thought of him having so much more experience made you hot in certain places. 

“Guys like straightforward girls, girls who know what they want.” Your sister said to no one directly. “That's true actually.” One of her friends spoke up. “I fucked Sulak and his friend because I wanted to. Now look at all three of us, a beautiful couple…throuple.” You often found yourself in the middle of these discussions with your older sister and her friends, not so much talking but certainly listening. Mental notes were scribed in your head, and as much as you wanted to use those notes, you couldn't help but save them…for Jake. 

You babysat the Sully babes everyday, at this rate, but it was all a part of a long plan you planned on carrying out. You built the courage to speak to Jake, managing to initiate conversations on your own. Jake was a funny man, often cracking jokes and making you funny shaped carvings to take home. You felt he was drawn to you as you were to him. You came close to flirting with him so many times, but right when you were about to hit your mark, one of the two children you were watching came to bother you.

But boy was Eywa on your side.

“I'm going to need you to stay a few nights. Or if you wish you can leave later and come earlier, I'll add on to your pay.” Neytiri requested. She reached the point in her pregnancy where she would go into the forest with her mother and complete her journey. It was a secretive ritual that some na’vi women participated in before giving birth. 

“I can come earlier.” You agreed. “Will Jake be leaving with you?”

“No. This is between me and my mother.” She said a little coldly. “He will be here, or anywhere else.”

You nodded in response, feeling a bit bad for Jake, but strangely this wasn’t out of the ordinary. All the time you spent babysitting, you noticed that Jake and Neytiri were never intimate with one another. No goodbye kisses or good morning hugs, just wake up and head straight to work. That could be something you can use against him, the lack of affection he got. As promised, Neytiri left and you were now alone with the two Sully kids and Jake. With Neytiri’s absence, he became more…lively. He cooked breakfast in the mornings and helped you with playtime before he had to leave for the day. Jake was out of the house more, but he seemed more expressive when discussing any plans for the future of the clan with trusted members. Maybe Neytiri was the issue.

As time passed, you decided it was go time.

You put the two Sully kids down for a nap and sought out Jake. Each step you took down the hallway felt heavy, but you eventually found him. He was in his room messing around with some stuff, and you stood in the doorway.

“Hey.” He acknowledged you without turning to look at you. “The kids sleep?”

“Yes.”

“If you want you can go hang with your friends. I know you've been tired of us.” He joked.

“I like being here. It's not all bad.”

Jake scoffed, like he was in disbelief a girl like yourself would actually enjoy babysitting for them. A beat of silence passed between you two before you finally spoke up.

“Do you think I'm beautiful?” You blurted. That probably wasn't the best line to start with, but your sister did say straightforwardness was the key. If he thought you were pretty, you might have a better chance.

“Uh…I think..yeah, you’re a very beautiful girl.” He nodded. “Easy on the eyes, I'm sure all the warriors want your hand in marriage.”

“I’m still a virgin you know.” 

Jake turned around and looked at you with a struck expression. It wasn’t in your nature to be vulgar, and you always came with bright beads and a high-pitched voice, ready to care for his kids, but now, you just…shifted. 

“Good for you.” It was clear he didn’t know how to respond. He then smiled, “It’s always good to protect yourself, and not be pressured by your peers. Trust me the things you hear as Olo’eytkan...maybe it's good you’re protecting that.”

“I don’t wanna be a virgin.” Your voice got curt.

“Why?”

“Because I'm in my 20’s. And everyone has had an experience at least by 17, I-I like you Jake.”

He looked at you with soft eyes and nodded, finally understanding all the not-so subtle subliminals you’ve been throwing at him. “You like me?”

“You’re smart, you're a strong leader…you care about this clan, you care about your family. I need that in my life.”

Jake scoffed and turned back around, you stood and walked closer. “You’re masculine, my sister says masculine men are the best..they’ll make you feel…I feel like a real girl around you.”

Jake sighed deeply and set aside his bow and arrow. “Listen to me Y/n, I have to explain something to you. I-I’m older than you…I’m wiser, and I know some things. I know that this is just a bump in the road for you, and you will look back and realize that…your judgment was clouded.” He reassured you. “This is not what you want sweetheart.”

“But-”

“I’m old enough to be your father. I’m not as mobile as I used to, I get sore in the morning…and hell, I used to be human. You don’t want that.” He tried his very best to convince you to get over the crush you had on him. But he didn’t seem to notice it wasn’t working. “Hey…I know a few warriors. Let’s get you a nice guy…get to know him, learn to trust him, and maybe you’ll share a bond.”

You sighed and untied your top and let it fall to the floor. Jake sighed deeply and attempted to cover his eyes. “Hey…Y/n don’t-” He moved to grab a nearby blanket and used it to cover up your exposed breasts. “Jake,” You said desperately, “I don't feel like a real girl I-I can't do this with anyone else but you. I want you Jake! I'm certain! If you think I'm pretty, you would do this one thing for me. Please? I'll go away after I'll-” He shushed you and walked over to the doorway, pulling you into his body, and closing the curtain. “You don’t have to go.” He said. “One favor…i’ll do it once, because you’re a sweet girl.”

You nodded and he guided you to the middle of the room, sitting you on the floor. He moved slowly, or at least that's what your nerves made it seem like. Jake pushed your stray hair behind your ear and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. You kissed back, savoring the taste and feeling of his lips against yours. He then trailed his kisses down, kissing your lips, your cheek, your neck, then your collarbone. His large hand caressed your thigh, and under the flap of your skirt, getting dangerously close to your core. “Can I touch you here?” He asked, inching closer.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Here?” His fingers grazed over your undergarments. You let out a small gasp, feeling the heat radiating from his hands.

“Yes.” You wanted to squirm but you stayed planted in place, frozen in anticipation.

His finger looped around your underwear and he gently stroked the sensitive fleshed that was underneath. You whimpered softly and watched his veiny hand flex and stretch as he kept his movements minimal. He groaned, feeling your wetness, and he felt his own self getting aroused. He pulled away, resulting in a dejected sigh from you. 

“Lay back.” The two of you shifted and he untied your skirt, pulling it off, before sliding off your underwear, completely exposing you to him. He let out a breath and kneaded the inside of your thighs. Jake untied his own cloth and threw it to the side, situating himself on top of you. He didn't allow you to look down, because if you looked down, he knew you would get nervous. 

“It might hurt okay?” He cooed. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him with innocent and watery eyes, which drove him crazy. Your scent, your arousal, it was blurring his mind. “It hurts. We stop.” He reassured again. You nodded and looked up at his ceiling, prepared for the oncoming pain, but it wasn't what you expected. You felt him prodding at your entrance, and listened to him grunt as he slowly entered you. 

You let out a gasp, feeling the foreign stretch inside of you. Jake got about a third in before he stopped. “You okay.”

You nodded, letting out a small whimper. He inched further into you, and that's when you moaned, feeling a small tickle, a pleasurable one. You began to clench around his cock. “That’s it.” He groaned. 

The two of you shared synchronized groans and melodic moans as he deepened his thrusts and found a pace that was satisfactory for the both of you. You admit, it was a bit awkward, because it was your first time and the two of you were just hunching on the ground. You knew it wasn’t gonna be the hot and rough like your sister described, but you also enjoyed watching Jake take his time. He kept his large hand on your cheek as he thrusted into you, biting his lip to muffle himself. He  bent down and latched his lips onto your neck, sucking on the flesh softly. You moaned at the gesture and fluttered around him again, causing him to jolt and  hiss.  “Fuck I- Shit!” He quickly pulled away and released under you, panting.  “I'm sorry, shit.” he cursed himself. 

You sat up and looked at him confused. “What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No sweetheart.” He chuckled. “I just…I haven't been intimate in so long. Guess I dont have much endurance anymore either.”

“But Neytiri is pregnant, no?”

“Only lasted long enough to knock her up. I haven't felt tied to her in a while. Not even during sex. It’s been years.”

You nodded, confirming the disconnect the two lovers had. They weren’t in love anymore, and they weren’t even trying to hide it. 

“I'll tell you what.” He came close again, placing a kiss on your lips. “I owe you. I’ll teach you anything you wanna know.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

[masked-men-fantasy]

One position for the rest of your life (Call of Duty)

If you had to choose only one position to have intercourse for the rest of your life, what would that position be? You have 10 seconds; your time starts now.

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Jackal

"And if I agree to do that, what will I get in return?" Jackal did not answer but instead asked you back.

"Err, my thanks?" You tried to think of what you could offer him back. Although this was supposed to be just a quick, funny question for a couple things,.

"No deal," he replied quickly and started to walk away.

"Fine. How about I let you come inside anytime you want? No question ask." Even you surprise yourself with what comes to mind.

Jackal paused and walked back to you. He used his pistol to cause a clank sound on his mask. It is like he is trying to taunt you that you, for once, can finally give him a good idea.

"Now we are talking." He snorted. "No, take it back now."

"And what position are we talking about?" You asked and tried to return to the main topic.

"Breeding position." You can feel that he definitely gives you a foxy smile through that intimidating mask. Jackal patted your shoulder as if he tried to imply that he was victorious. He laughed with a deep voice as he walked away behind your back.

This guy... you can never win him. And you can never get enough of him, too.

Mace

Mace panicked at first. His eyes say the expression, 'Just one? Damn, that's gotta be boring as fuck', but then he just answered out loudly.

"Calendar!".

You were confused by that. What the hell is 'Calendar'? What the heck is that kind of sex position?? Is it a new kink where you said January and he would cum???

But then he reached for his phone in his pocket and showed you an image.

It is an illustration of this year's calendar. Each day has a different sex position drawn inside it. And you found that he made some circle signs on the exact same day that you and him had some fun together.

Now, you understand his 'Calendar' position. Very wise answer.

"Hey, this means no more excuses for no sex from now on." He chuckled and pointed to the sex position on his phone. Today is spooning. "I will be waiting for you in my room tonight."

Cheeky bastard, you whimpered.

Ghost

"Missionary," he answered shortly. "I don't bloody want anything more than seeing you when I hold you close, ever."

Simon had a rough time in the past. He does not want anything more than vanilla sex. Simple, clean, and sensual, and most importantly, he just wants you.

Watching your face through the entire session is another main reason. He wants to kiss you, share body warmth, make hickies on your collar bones, and whisper sweet nothing until you both reach that heavenly feeling together.

"It doesn't have to be sex; if it means that I can just have you by my side, I don't care about anything else." He explained further.

He held your hand tight throughout the conversation.

Nikto

"I will just go fuck someone else then," Nikto answered frigidly, then walked away like nothing had happened.

Wha... What??? You can't just do that!? Hello!?

You have to rush out to stop him and explain to him that it is just a question and that you have no plan to do it in real life or whatsoever.

Nikto does not believe, and you end up getting dragged to his room.

"Don't ask me a dumb question like that again." He murmured while he railed your naked body on the balcony. His member pierced through your tight hole. Nikto has no mercy with his pace, although he can hear your moaning voice that becomes incontrollable.

"моя шлюха (My slut), you are too perfect to do boring shit like that. Now show everyone who you belong to." You could sense that he was smiling through his mask when he said that sentence. He raises your legs up to show everyone nearby the barrack that both of your bodies are connected and that you are his.

[obeymematches]

I saw one of your stories and I got immediately interested by one of them, then I had an idea more like a head Canon maybe-

So you and Solomon are making a potion for class one of the brothers came into the classroom and a big explosion happened one of you and the brothers didn't brace for impact and then suddenly your future child is there I just want to see everybody's reaction or maybe what will they do in that situation (sorry it's a bit weird but yeah that's all I came up with in my head) ^^"

henlo!!! So you sent in this ask almost 3 years ago (may 20th 2021) I'm so so so sorry i didn't reply sooner, you're probably over this by now 😅 but i felt inspired to write it today so here we go 🫶

🌸Meeting your future kid with him🌸

GN MC

Okay so this time Solomon has some homework to do... sending this kiddo back without messing with the future is gonna take time. Until then you must take care of them! You are the parent afterall!!

Lucifer: 4 months old

Not gonna lie it took him the longest to realize it's YOUR baby WITH him! In his defense, babies can look a bit weird. The baby definitely has your mouth, but his eyes and hairline. He didn't see many infant in his life so this is all new! You can literally see his heart melt when the little baby smiles at him! Shares his part with pride, changes diapers, carries the baby around....just take over when the baby is fussy.

MC I can't wait to meet the baby again... I miss them already, isn't that funny?

Mammon: 3yrs old

Your toddler immediately recognized you and Mammon. You and him looked at each other with an awkward stare, his face is as red as it can be- you are definitely not ready for kids!!! The fact that around 3 years old kids looove disobeying on purpose doesn't help. Mammon gets the hang of it though, he looves his little troublemaker! They could play all day long.

I wanna see ya grow up little man- I looove being your dad!

Levi: 8yrs old

Again, the kis recognizes you and him. Right now he keeps telling you he isn't ready for kids and might never be; same as you!! So how did this happen??? Do you must have one in the future??? Thankfully with an 8yrs old you can already have a conversation, play games with, etc so by the time it's over he grows very fond of them.

MC... I think I have changed my mind- having a kid is a lot like having a small best friend!

Satan: 16yrs

Ah. Your child is as upset as any 16 yr old would be in this case, leaving you and Satan no time to think about the fact you made this person. He does his absolute best to stay calm and see things from the kid's POV, but man is it difficult when your teen keeps lying about important stuff, escapes the house as soon as you lower your guard, fights with anyone over and over who doesn't do as they want despite being so so so sensitive... it is tiring.

I wish I could see what they were like as a little kid... why did I think teens were easy?!

Asmo: 13 yrs

Okay he is very quick at recognizing his own kid; he has YOUR and HIS face memorized. Starts sobbing when he realizes what this means; you are going to be parents!! The thought of loving someone sooo much just sends him over the edge. He buys everyone matching clothes, plans so many vacations you are rarely at home, surprisingly good at answering questions your little one has. (Very comforting, builds their confidence as much as he can!!)

MC, how do I look as a parent? You still love me?

Beel: 1 yr old

Okay, it was obvious the baby is a perfect mix of you two; his eyes are definitely yours though! Beel finds this job to be super important so he spends almost all day with the baby. They play peek-a-boo, he helps your kid to learn to walk and eat with hands, carries them on his shoulder when they get tired. Honestly he doesn't want to let them go back.

MC... I think we should have at least 3 kids!"

Belphie: 6yrs

Okay, he never would've thought he'd have a kid with you; first, you are dating someone else right now and second, he doesn't really like kids. So this one's gonna be complicated. His face turns red though as he has always liked you but you made it clear he is not really your type. Co-parenting brought you much closer; you could see how calm he can stay when he wants to, and how smart he actually is especially when the 6 years old doesn't stop with their questions. How it continues after the kid is back in the future is up to you babe!

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 9: Firsts

Ruby:(Don’t over complicate this. Don’t do it. Just relax… relax…)

Jaune:Uh Rubes?

Ruby:Y-Yes!?

Jaune:Are you gonna hit retry or…

She turns her head and notices they’re on they’re on the ranking screen. When did the match end!? Ruby finally hits continue. Jaune can’t help but chuckle a little as he leans back against Blake’s bed.

Ruby:What’s so funny?

Jaune:You seem a little lost in thought. Thinking of a way of outplaying me?

Ruby:I introduced you to this game. I know your skills.

Jaune:And yet I out rank you.

Ruby:Because you’re such a try hard! I’ve been busy on missions.

Jaune:Yeah that’s fair. It’s nice that you finally have time off. I would’ve thought your team would be knocked out for days. I was little shocked when you said you planned an all day video game date.

Ruby:I begged a little. Also called in a few favors. Weiss just needed a nice place to sleep, Blake is flexible and I became a pouty little sister for Yang.

Jaune:Qualities of a true leader.

Ruby:Shut up! I’m just happy you didn’t procrastinate on any assignments.

Jaune:Pyrrha said she’d add Nora to my training if I did.

Ruby:Yeah that would get me moving too. Soooo you’re really free ?

Jaune:Yep, I’m all yours for the day. Any game you need a partner in, I’ll help you see credits.

Ruby:…And if we get tired of games?

Jaune:We got movies. There’s a couple good ones that came while you were away. Or ones you’ll force me to watch.

Ruby:Stop acting like you don’t like horror.

Jaune:It really isn’t an act. But you planned all this and who am I to not appreciate that.

Ruby:So you’re done for anything?

Jaune:Yep!

Ruby:*red* Even…oh I don’t know, sleeping together?

Jaune’s hands stopped pressing buttons and Ruby managed to send him to the loser screen. It wasn’t intentional but a small boost of confidence as she turned her head right to see him looking at her with a flushed red face.

Ruby:Don’t make it weird!

Jaune:Me!? What!? You just- context please! Was that a ploy to win!?

Ruby:I’m not that petty! Look I just…. *plays with hair* thought maybe we should discuss that idea. We’ve been together for almost five months and it’s been really great! It’s felt a little weird though that you never seemed to make a move or bring up “that”

Jaune: Do I really give off that sorta vibe? I had no idea.

Ruby:I’m not saying you do, but between how you used to try flirting with Weiss and our casual conversations, it didn’t feel like you weren’t into more intimate things. Ugh, I really don’t know what I’m saying at this point! I guess a part of me felt a little confused and worried if you weren’t interested in me in that way at all.

Jaune:Oh I have had thoughts, but i know how to keep them to myself.

Ruby:….

Jaune:*blushing* That’s normal and decent behavior! Why, are you interested?

Ruby:Of course! I organized I room date to give you the opportunity to-

Saying it aloud made it sound way more embarrassing and forward than Ruby meant for it to be. And pulled her hood over her head and huffed in defeat as she stared down at her lap.

Jaune:….Does your team know about this?

Ruby:Blake does. She said her bed is fair game. Those are actually my sheets right now. As far as Yang is concerned, I asked for privacy so we can have our first kiss.

Jaune:We’ve made out a bunch of times.

Ruby:I’m very sneaky when I want to be. Look, I get this is a lot I’m dropping on you and we don’t have to do anything today. I just…really wanted to know where I stand with you and to let you know that…I’m okay with going further with you. *crimson* I really like you. A lot.

Jaune:…This question may sound a little dumb all things considering, but I have to hear it. I get that you’re okay with it, but do you want to have sex with me? As in your are looking forward to it?

Ruby:…Very much, yeah.

Jaune:….Hold on just one moment.

He took her scroll and walked out of the room. Ruby wanted to scream until she passed out. Why did she start this conversation!? Was it too forward!? They were having such a good time before this moment. Why did he leave!?

So many thoughts bombarded her brain and they didn’t stop when she heard the door unlock again. Her scroll flew into her lap so she knew it was him. Seconds later, a box of condoms fell into her lap. Her brain took a moment to process what she was looking at then her head immediately jerked up to see Jaune bright red and also avoiding her gaze.

Jaune: Nora may have helped me find female ones too, as well as emergency pills.

Ruby:Ah, I see. How proactive. Well…*twiddles fingers* Weiss may have helped me find a pay for some quality meds awhile go.

Jaune:Huh, imagine that.

Ruby:Yeeeep. Jaune, can you look at me?

Jaune:*makes eye contact*

Ruby:Soooo are we…still playing video games right now?

Jaune:…..

xxxxxx

Blake:*eating noodles*

Yang:You think the date is going well?

Weiss:Yes. *eating cake*

Yang:Really think she’ll go for a kiss?

Blake:Ruby can dive into a Nevermore’s mouth. She’ll find the willpower to kiss a boy.

Yang:….Maybe I should call t-

Weiss:Yang, as a younger sister myself, I appreciate my older sister. However, if she interrupted me on a date with a call or coming home early, I’m going to be mad for a very long time. Eat your burger and relax. Ruby will be fine.

Yang: I know, ugh! It’s like I’m antsy for her. Gods, if I’m like this now then I don’t know if I can handle her asking about sex.

Blake and Weiss:Don’t worry about that now.

[srslyscary]

The Final Breath

contents/warnings: SFW , reader is written as she/her, major angst, mentions of illness, mentions of death, bang chan is named his birth name in the narrative, lowercase intended

including: bang chan x reader

note: I CRIED WRITING THIS. why I got the inspiration to make something hand written? i have no clue. I thought I should start writing more often. seriously had to stop writing this just to cry for one second. this may or may not be ooc (just a slither) because i have problems writing personalities of people I don’t know in person.. please enjoy!

_

chris wiped the sweat from his brow as the final beats of the song faded. practice had been intense, as always, but his mind was elsewhere. his bandmates, felix, hyunjin, and the others, were still catching their breath when chris glanced at the clock.

"hey, guys, I need to head out early today," he said, grabbing his bag.

felix raised an eyebrow. "again? you’ve been leaving early a lot lately. everything okay?"

chris forced a smile. "yeah, everything's fine. just some personal stuff I need to take care of."

the others exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t press him further. they had their suspicions—but ultimately thought he was going home to his girlfriend, whom they were all very aquantined with. little did they know, his destination was far more somber.

chris’s heart ached as he drove to the hospital. YN, his girlfriend, was battling a brain tumor, and the prognosis was grim. the visits had become a daily ritual, a blend of love, fear, and a desperate hope for a miracle.

he entered her hospital room, greeted by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft beep of monitors. YN's face lit up when she saw him, her smile weak but genuine.

"hey channie!" she whispered, her voice fragile.

"hey, beautiful," he replied, sitting beside her and taking her hand. "how are you feeling today?"

she shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "same as always. but seeing you makes everything better." she laughed, nearly cringing at herself. “I bet it does.”

they spent the next few hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. chris recounted funny stories from practice, doing his best to lift her spirits. they watched videos on his phone, and he played her snippets of new songs he was working on. for those precious moments, the world outside the hospital room faded away. nothing else mattered to them but the time they spent together.

as the days passed, YN's condition slowly worsened. chris continued to visit daily, his dedication unwavering. the hospital staff began to recognize him, greeting him with sad smiles as he made his way to her room.

one evening, chris arrived to find YN's family gathered around her bed, their faces etched with worry. her mother stood up, giving chris a small, grateful nod.

"thank you for coming, christopher. she talks about you all the time," her mother said, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances..”

chris nodded, his throat tight. “It’s fine, really.” he approached YN, who was asleep, her face pale and drawn. he sat beside her, holding her hand and whispering softly. "I’m here, YN. I won’t leave you."

when she woke, she smiled weakly at him. "channie, you’re here."

"of course, I am," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I always will be."

as the night wore on, chris and YN talked about their future—one filled with dreams they both knew might never come true. they spoke of travels, adventures, and the life they had planned together. it was a bittersweet conversation, filled with love and an unspoken understanding of the reality they faced. “hey.. do you think.. I’ll be able to see outside again?”

“of course you will. i have no doubt about that, beautiful.”

the next day, chris convinced YN's doctors to let her leave the hospital for a few hours. he wanted to give her a change of scenery, a taste of the usual through the chaos of her illness. “let’s set you in, first time in a wheelchair huh?”

she laughed only slightly, being carried and put into the wheelchair. “yeah, it feels really funny.” and with that chris began to take her outside the hospital, talking a small stroll to the nearest park. he pushed her wheelchair along the winding paths, the spring air fresh and invigorating. YN marveled at the blooming flowers, the chirping birds, and the children playing nearby. It was a simple outing, but it meant the world to her.

"thank you for this, my love." she said, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I needed it more than you know."

chris smiled, though his heart ached. "anything for you, sweetheart. always."

they sat on a bench, watching the world go by. for a few precious hours, they were just another couple, enjoying a day at the park. but as the sun began to set, reality intruded once more.

YN's condition took a drastic turn for the worse. she was confined to her bed, her strength fading rapidly. chris continued his visits, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. he spent every moment he could with her, knowing their time was running out.

then the day finally came, that day both of them never dreamed of happening. as he sat by her bed, YN's breathing became labored. chris held her hand tightly, his heart pounding with fear and sorrow.

"baby.." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm scared..”

chris leaned closer, his eyes filled with tears. he wanted to keep strong for her, for the one he loved, even through this hard time. "I know, YN. but I'm here. you’re not alone. and you’ll never be alone.”

she looked at him, her gaze filled with love and pain. "promise me... you won’t forget me. live your life, be happy."

chris swallowed hard, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise, YN. i’ll never forget you. you mean everything to me. i’ll love you till the end of time.”

“then promise me one more thing.. please swear you’ll keep this promise.”

“Anything beautiful— what is it?”

“just promise me.. that if you’re not happy, that you’ll find happiness with someone else.” she said, her lips shaking slightly and her eyes barely could keep open.

“no.. no i can’t promise that. i’ll love you and only you. i can’t possibly—“ “chris please.. please don’t do this. just promise me.” YN began to tear up, looking at him.

“…i promise. but.. you’ll make it out of here just fine.. don’t say that.”

she smiled, running her thumb against his hand. “thank you for everything, my love.” and with a final, shaky breath, YN closed her eyes, her grip on his hand loosening. chris felt his world shatter as she slipped away, the silence in the room deafening.

“hey.. hey sweetheart- get up..!” he held her face, kissing her cheeks and tapping her arms slightly. “please.. don’t— don’t close your eyes.. don’t go..!”

but it was too late, she was already gone. chris quickly got up and tapped the call button, screaming for the nurses.

the days following YN’s passing were a blur for chris. he attended the funeral, supported her grieving family, and tried to make sense of a world without her. his bandmates, finally aware of the truth, rallied around him, offering their support and understanding.

chris threw himself into his work, trying to drown the pain with music and dance. But no matter how busy he kept himself, the void YN left behind was inescapable. he found himself visiting her grave regularly, bringing her favorite flowers and sitting in silence, lost in memories.

every night, for two years straight, Chris called YN’s phone. each time, he left a message, his voice filled with longing and sorrow. "hey, YN. It’s me, channie. I miss you so much. it’s hard.. knowing you’re really gone. i wish I could just wake up and come straight to your apartment to see you each morning, like usual. i wish I could take you out on dates at your favorite places, like usual. i want to be angry for you leaving me.. but I know I shouldn’t. i know I should think better about this. it’s just so.. hard. i love you so so much.”

the calling became his way of coping, a connection to the girl he loved and lost. he gained hope for the shortest moment everytime he heard the call go straight to voicemail, the last thing he had left to really remember what you sounded like. “Hi this is YN! Sorry i couldn’t answer the phone. I’ll get to you as soon as i can! Leave a message!”. even as the number eventually became invalid, chris continued to dial, his heart refusing to let go. each call was a reminder of the promises he made and the love they shared.

_

it had been a year since YN’s passing, and chris found himself standing in front of her grave once more. the seasons had changed, the world had moved on, but his grief remained as fresh as the day she left.

his bandmates, who had become his rock, stood beside him, their presence a silent support. felix placed a hand on his shoulder. "we’re here for you, bro. always."

chris nodded, his eyes never leaving the gravestone. he sniffled, trying not to let tears fall. "thanks, guys… It means a lot."

he knelt down, placing a bouquet of YN’s favorite flowers on her grave. "Hey, YN. It’s me, channie. I miss you so much. It’s been a year, but it still feels like yesterday. i feel emotional everytime i come here, knowing I was just fine 3 hours ago. i don’t think you really know how much this affects me. im slowly getting better but.. it still hurts.”

as the sun set, casting long shadows across the cemetery, chris and his bandmates stood in silence, remembering YN and the love she had brought into his life.

through all, chris kept his promise to YN. he lived his life, pursued his dreams, and found moments of happiness. but he never forgot her. she remained a part of him, a cherished memory that guided him through the darkest times.

he found even more solace in his music, channeling his grief and love into his songs. His bandmates stood by him, understanding the depth of his loss and the strength it took to keep moving forward.

on the anniversary of YN’s passing each year, chris visited her grave, bringing her favorite flowers and sitting in silence. He spoke to her, sharing his life and achievements, as if she were still beside him.

and though the pain of losing her never fully faded, Chris found a way to honor her memory in everything he did. she had taught him the true meaning of love and loss, and that lesson became a cornerstone of his life.

in the quiet moments, when the world felt too heavy, chris would close his eyes and remember YN’s smile, her laughter, and the love they shared. and he would find the strength to keep going, knowing she was with him, always.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being condescending towards an asexual kid in GSA?

🙃🏳️‍🌈 to find later

Long post so buckle up.

I (17, they/it/he) am one of three co-leaders of my school’s GSA, along with R (18, she/her) and N (17, he/him). All three of us are openly bi, and I’m also openly trans and (most importantly) very loudly aromantic. We’re all in 12th grade now but we were leaders last year (in 11th grade) too. The school/GSA is small enough that all four grades (9–12, so around 13–18 years old) are in the same GSA, there’s no separate upper grade and lower grade groups. We also have two advisors, both cis queer teachers; and some younger queer faculty members also join sometimes for formal events. We take turns running events during club time, such as fun crafts or watching music videos. Sometimes we also do educational stuff or documentaries, including having teachers come in to facilitate discussions.

I’ve been planning (since early December) to run a two part series of discussions about asexuality and aromanticism (separate discussions of each). I really just wanted to do one day about aromanticism, but R said that if I did that, people would derail it and just talk about asexuality anyways, which both N and our advisors also agreed made sense. So, it’s two days, and the asexuality one is first so that the aromanticism one can be closer to Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week (ASAW).

There’s a girl in GSA, let’s call her A (16, she/her), who’s in 11th grade. She’s very socially awkward and if someone points out that she’s accidentally said something rude or offensive she’ll make a big deal out of not knowing and generally derail the conversation. Also, two years ago A made a ton of “jokes” about me and my little sibling (16MtF) being “secretly dating.” When I asked her (politely at first) to stop, she said she was just joking around, and kept doing it. I asked her again and also asked the theatre teacher and school counselor for help, and eventually she did stop. But A kept following me around and trying to be friends with me, and I was super uncomfortable to the point that I asked the school counselor to facilitate a conversation between A and I so that I could ask her to fucking stop. It somewhat worked. Now she still keeps trying to start conversations with me in the hallways and such, but I just brush her off or ignore her.

The one place I can’t do that is during GSA. Since I’m a leader, I have to be civil to everyone and actually talk to people (R, N, and I set norms at the start of the year during our planning meetings). A is asexual but not aromantic, and today she showed up like 5 minutes into lunch (cafeteria lines are annoying) and loudly asked if she was late. We weren’t doing anything in GSA today, just chilling. At some point during the meeting I announced casually that next week we’d be discussing asexuality, and then the week after that we’d talk about aromanticism, which leads nicely into ASAW during February break. When I said this, A immediately said that she would be extra ace that week [during ASAW]. I was like, “during aromantic spectrum awareness week?!?!” in the same tone of that “during pride month?!?!” meme. She looked like someone had just given her an F on the most important test of the year and said she hadn’t known.

I also made a comment about how there’s way more openly aspec people at our school than at most schools, and N said that maybe the presence of role models is part of that (clear subtext: he was referring to me). I said pretty loudly (more people could hear) that it was kinda funny that I’m the “ace role model” when I’m literally not asexual. A looked super lost and confused at this, and I think she might’ve thought I was ace, even though I’m super open about not being ace, and have told her directly more than once.

Here’s where the potential assholery comes into play. There’s an ad for PrEP that was fairly common on the back covers of theatre playbills in the past year. The ad shows a Black man dressed in ripped leggings with fishnets, shiny knee-length heeled leather boots, and some sort of white leather harness, doing a bridge pose with one leg extended upwards so that the “r” in PrEP is resting on the sole of the boot. The ad has a bright red background and text that says “you cast of PrEP options is changing” along with a small QR code and website link. The pose is somewhat provocative, but not out of place on a playbill for an all-ages show.

During GSA, A was saying that she thought the ad was bad, because of the leather being “fetish gear” and “weird” (basically the same arguments people use to say that gay people shouldn’t be allowed in public). I told A that there’s nothing wrong with someone wearing leather, and she said that “it’s fetish gear and that’s disgusting and degenerate and just bad advertising!”

I explained calmly, like I would to a child (although I probably wouldn’t talk about this topic with a child), that PrEP is a medicine that people take if they anticipate having sex with someone who’s HIV-positive, so it’s okay that the ad is somewhat suggestive. She seemed to accept that, but still said that the leather was weird, and the ad should’ve shown “a diverse group of people getting pills at a pharmacy” instead, because “fetish gear” was too much.

I asked if she thought that all leather clothing was inherently fetishistic, to which A said yes, and then I asked, “do you know that people can’t just choose fetishes?”

She hadn’t known that, but she still said the ad was too sexual. I pointed out that it was a fairly well-targeted advertisement, using theatre references, but maybe A was not part of the target demographic. I also said that sometimes outfits are just hot without there needing to be any fetishes involved, which she didn’t refute, and that even if it was a fetish, that wouldn’t make it inherently “bad” or “degenerate” at all.

A said that she still didn’t like it, and I told her that she was entitled to have whatever feelings she wanted to have, but that doesn’t mean the advertisement itself is a problem.

Another person (17, he/him) called out “[OP], what do you think about kink at pride?” in a sort of nonchalant way, so I walked over while saying “i’m pro–kink at pride.” The conversation eventually moved in other directions, and then club ended and we had to go to our next classes.

TL;DR: given my position of power and responsibility as a GSA leader, AITA for being kinda condescending towards an ace person who’s 2 years younger than me because she was being very sex-negative about an ad for PrEP?

What are these acronyms?

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

My Elderly Mother Plays Baldur's Gate: Part 3

(For those who missed it, my mom is having me play Baldur's Gate for her because she's not good with controllers but she still wants to smooch Gale, set things on fire, and see the story. For Part 1 and 2 of her adventure, click here.)

Yesterday my mom wrapped up Wyrm's Crossing and finally made it to the Lower City. I told her that this is the part of the game where the decisions start getting a little harder and morally grey, but she didn't really believe me. Eheheheh.

Here's how Act III is going for her:

Something I forgot to mention in my previous post is that my mom reads every line of Tav’s dialogue out loud so she can pretend like she’s actually conversing with the characters. I have to time the dialogue selections so the NPCs respond to her at just the right time for immersion purposes. She gets a kick out of it.

Upon finding a sachet of silkroot in a smuggler’s cave and being informed it was essentially drugs, her first question was: "Can we sell these drugs?" I asked her where this energy was when I was a teenager, and she said, "The economy of Baldur's Gate needs to be supported." We did, in fact, sell the drugs.

She always stops to talk to Withers and recite “fate spins along as it should” in a silly voice. She also does Withers’ little hand gesture with it because she thinks it’s funny. We both say it together now. It's not relevant, I just think it's precious.

I asked her if she plans on killing Gortash to save Halsin from Orin but she said, “Sacrifices need to be made, dear. Desperate times!” (I guarantee she'll try to save Halsin anyway; she really likes him, but she's super scared of Orin. Probably why she's toying with the idea of killing Orin first.)

I wish I could describe the face she made when THAT scene with the Emperor showed up. It was somewhere between horror and blatant confusion. I honestly couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard. (She turned him down, obviously.)

She has made a pros and cons list in her Baldur's Gate journal for both Gortash and Orin. So far, Gortash is winning because my mom really dislikes Orin and thinks she's spooky. I honestly have no idea who she'll kill first at this point.

My mom had Astarion rob the donation box beneath the Stormshore Tabernacle (which contained our fucking donations so idk if it’s robbing or just taking back our stuff). However, she got the “castigated by divinity” curse, and when Shadowheart removed the curse at camp, a big celestial popped out of Astarion and proceeded to murder Gale in his tent. My mother was very distraught; I was crying laughing.

We left off at Lorroakan's office last night; my mom is coming back over today so she can watch Dame Aylin break his bitch body in half and do a bunch of other stuff.

I'll keep you guys updated on her crimes!

[delopsia]

Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 5,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. 

"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?" 

"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me." 

The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop. 

You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room. 

"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.

But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection. 

"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too. 

"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."

His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too. 

"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town." 

You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.

Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home. 

"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."

"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny." 

His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.

Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.

"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."

The mixer shuts off. 

"Who said I was leaving the Navy?" 

Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night." 

"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.

And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?

The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?" 

"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.

Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes. 

"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."

Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher! 

Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."

"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?" 

Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips. 

It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn. 

"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused. 

Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.

Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To."  Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal."  Kiss.

One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.

Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.

...huh.

"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too. 

You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?" 

"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here." 

Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made. 

"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls. 

"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow? 

Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?

Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?

Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?" 

And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—" 

Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt. 

You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air. 

Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt. 

Your white shirt. "Hey!"

"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack. 

All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?" 

Insufferable. 

Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter. 

Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach. 

"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet. 

God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow. 

"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin. 

Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin. 

"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced. 

Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen. 

"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"

You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck. 

And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward. 

"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."

The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament. 

Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.

This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there. 

Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.

"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.

"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer. 

Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain. 

But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time. 

Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch. 

"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.

"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?" 

Not in the slightest. 

It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.

"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you. 

And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.

"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..." 

Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can. 

Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.

"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?" 

You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.

Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?" 

All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here. 

Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him. 

Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"

A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

So you did set the timer. Lucky him.

And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."

This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.

"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves. 

The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."

"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs,  underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans. 

You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen. 

Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.

"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips. 

Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.

Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."

"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.

"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal. 

It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.

"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip. 

There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll. 

"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck." 

"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top. 

Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass. 

"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.

"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much. 

His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over. 

"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...

"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."

Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it. 

A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone.  Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt. 

"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears. 

"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.  

You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better." 

Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs. 

And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too. 

Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too. 

One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit." 

He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming. 

"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.

So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.

If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.

What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is. 

Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath. 

You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.

Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy." 

"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"

He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind. 

Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles. 

A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"

"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.

Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail. 

A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him. 

But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together. 

"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!"  He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment. 

"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"

That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.

 Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both. 

You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you. 

If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing. 

Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea. 

"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."

Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.

"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."

A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."

"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing. 

"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion. 

It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap. 

"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett. 

"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?" 

It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses. 

[blueariel3-blog]

Together

Pairing: Poly!Dragonott x Reader

Summary: Draco is tasked with finishing the vanishing cabinet, but it's tearing him apart. You and Theo make a plan to help him.

You skipped down the hallway, your hand safely enclosed in Theo’s rather large one. Pansy made a joke about Trelawany’s outfit ahead of you and the group of Slytherins laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and sending some second years running. You nodded along and smiled, pretending as if you heard the joke and thought it was funny as you focused on getting to the great hall. 

The smell of fresh roast and gravy hit your nose and you sighed as you happily took your seat. Theo sat next to you, helped you fix your plate, and poured you a drink, smiling as he did so. You brushed a tender kiss across his cheek in thanks. There were several minutes of silent eating and chattering before you realized Draco wasn’t at the table and likely wasn’t coming. 

You gently placed a hand on Theo’s knee and gave a small squeeze. He gave you a quiet look of understanding and gestured for you to finish your meal. You did so quietly, nodding along to the conversation and trying not to let fear and worry consume you and ruin your appetite. 

When dinner was almost over, you made your way around to the kitchens to find the elves. They all greeted you warmly as you passed through, rich smells filling your nose and washing some of your nerves away. You stopped at the counter in front of the head elf and gently laid your hands on the counter. 

“Could I have a plate to go? Please?” It wasn’t unusual for you to often ask the elves for a plate to take, and you gathered they knew why. 

“Of course, dear.” The elderly elf climbed down from her stool and you watched her toddle around the kitchen to collect the food. In a magically extended box, they shoved a double heaping of roast and gravy, rice, carrots, turnips, pumpkin pastries, and cheesecake. She set the box on the counter and patted it, handing her a small extended pitcher of pumpkin juice. 

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly. The elf placed her withered hand on your cheek gently and nodded, motioning for you to get going. You gently took the box and pitcher and pushed open the kitchen doors with your elbow, meeting Theo right outside. 

“I’m worried about him,” you said as he took the box from you. You both started down the corridors, keeping track of the moving staircases in order to get to the room of requirement. You passed Snape in the hallway who nodded his head and continued on his way. 

“I am too. Maybe he’ll let us help today.” He sighed as he stepped in front of the blank wall, waiting on you to step beside him. You gave him a sharp look. 

“I doubt it. Show me the room of requirement.” 

The stones began to chip away until a door appeared. Theo turned the handle and sighed. A blast of warm air hit you in the face and you sighed, shrugging your robes off as you weaved through the stacks of lost and forgotten objects. A clattering sound to your right had you sharply turning and coming to stand behind a head of platinum hair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder as you braced for an outburst. He turned to face both of you, dark circles around his eyes. You could see how tired he was and how stress had taken a toll on his body, but you had lost that fight more times than you cared to admit. 

Theo placed the box on the table beside you and stepped towards you both, placing a hand on Draco’s other shoulder. He sagged into both of your touches before pulling away and rubbing a tired hand through his hair, the movement slow and sluggish. He dropped onto the worn quilted couch you and Theo spent much of your time on while watching him. 

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” he mumbled. He was a very closed-off person despite sharing a relationship with both of you and refused to accept help. You gently lowered yourself to the floor and sat against his legs as Theo took the open seat next to him. 

“We know we didn’t have to, but we wanted to. Don’t want you to be alone,” You whispered. Despite knowing no one else occupied the room and you could talk as loud as you wanted, you always kept your voice quiet around your boys. 

“Thanks,” he sighed. 

Theo gently patted his thigh and motioned for him to turn his body, laying his head down in Theo’s lap. He stroked the blond and stringy hair away from his pale face, scratching gently at his scalp. The hand that dangled over the edge allowed for you to reach out and grasp his cold fingers in yours. 

“How much have you gotten done?” Theo was always hesitant to ask but knew it was a conversation that needed to be had. 

“Almost done, just need a few more days.” Theo exchanged a look with you and shook his head. He had been saying that for weeks. 

“Why don’t you eat and rest a little while? Theo and I will wake you up in a few hours.” 

“Can’t. Need to finish the cabinet.” His words slurred together and his eyes dropped as he struggled to stay awake. You brushed a tender kiss to his fingers and gently massaged the pressure point on his wrist, the dark mark almost touching it.

You sat there for a few minutes as you both waited for Draco to drift to sleep. When quiet snoring filled the room, you pried his hand out of yours and pulled up from the floor. You silently cast a charm to extend the couch to a bed big enough to fit the three of you and placed a silencing charm around the posters. 

You helped Theo move his body and tug off his robes to make him more comfortable. He wore his white button-down and boxers when you were both done, curled under the silk green sheets and resting comfortably. 

“Want me to help,” Theo whispered. You shook your head and bent to place a kiss on his forehead. 

“No, stay with him. You both need some sleep.” Your lips hovered near his brow, pressing another kiss before standing upright and moving to the cabinet a few feet away. 

You cast another silencing charm around you and opened the creaking door only to find a dead bird inside. You sighed and banished the creature, shutting the door again to think. 

An hour later, you heard Theo’s snores join in with Draco’s. You turned to see Draco laying behind Theo, an arm wrapped around his waist as he buried his head in the curly chocolate locks. You smiled and turned back to the furniture. 

In the next hour, you managed to accomplish a few things. You altered the spells along the outside and inside of the cabinet to cushion the entrance and exit of whoever stepped inside. You also added a muffling spell to keep the sound contained and fixed the squeaky hinges that plagued Draco’s nightmares. 

It was another 3 hours and lots of charms and transfigurations before you decided to step inside. You knew if either of the boys saw you in the cabinet they would combust, but they were both happily sleeping. You took a deep breath and carefully shut the door behind you, trusting your spell work to be thorough enough to protect your life. 

With a deep breath, you muttered the charm and braced your hands against the walls. There was a light humming and a quick flash of light before the furniture eased back into its quiet nature. You carefully cracked open the door and were met with a room quite different than the one you had just left. A large smile appeared on your face. 

You cast a diagnostic and checked for injuries to make sure you weren’t looking over anything in your desperation for the cabinet to work. When you were sure you were fine, you closed the door once more and uttered the charm again. The same quiet rumbling and flash of light consumed you before it went still again. 

On the other side of this door were your two boyfriends wrapped in one another arms and snoring. You grinned, hardly containing your squeal, and jumped out of the cabinet. Another diagnostic confirmed you were not injured. 

You peeled off your uniform and transformed your dress shirt into a long t-shirt and slipped into bed behind Draco. The clock on the opposite wall read 4:55 am and you silently groaned as you set the alarm for 7 sharp. A few lost hours of sleep would be worth it for his well-being. 

You slipped a hand around Draco’s abdomen and lightly kissed his head, nuzzling in deep to the comforting scent of apples and chestnut. 

A few hours later, the sharp ringing of an alarm woke you from your sleep. You all three groaned as you moved around the bed, disentangling limbs. Draco suddenly shot from the bed and almost tripped on his trousers before stumbling to the cabinet. 

“I wasn’t supposed to sleep! I have to finish this cabinet in time!” He pulled at the roots of his hair and you shot up from the bed, coming to grasp his hands and prevent him from hurting himself further. 

“Draco, baby, I fixed the cabinet.” It was as if he was in his own world and couldn’t hear you. 

“He’s going to kill me if I don’t get this done! I’ll have to skip classes again to make up for it,” He mumbled to himself. Theo joined you two and pulled Draco into his side who tried to push him away. 

“Draco! Listen to her!” 

Theo shoved his shoulders and turned him around to watch you. Draco lifted his eyebrows as if surprised to find you there and reached out a hand. 

“Darling, I’m sorry. I have to finish the cabinet. Let Theo take you to get ready and I’ll try to get you for lunch.” 

“Draco I fixed the cabinet.” His hand stilled mid-air and he blinked at you. 

“That’s not funny.” He narrowed his eyes. You huffed and stomped towards the cabinet, pulling the door open and then sealing yourself inside. You heard Draco yelling from the other side. 

“NO! Theo, let me go! She’s going to die!” There was a brief sound of struggling and then silence. 

You opened the door to find a different room and sighed, closing it once again. When you opened the door a second time, both boys stood with their mouths hanging open as you stepped out. 

“Now, no more worrying. It’s fixed. You will go to class and eat with us and sleep in our bed and you will not spend another moment worrying about this wretched furniture. Either of you.” You gave them both a pointed look. 

“How did you…why?” Draco sounded astonished and his eyes began to glass over. You placed a hand on each side of his head and kissed him gently before resting your foreheads together. 

“It was tearing you apart and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. It’s fixed now and you don’t have to worry about it for a while.” You placed another kiss on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then each cheek, and finally another one on his lips. 

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He extended a hand behind him for Theo who gladly took it and joined the embrace. The dark-haired wizard placed a kiss on both of your heads. 

“Now that that’s sorted, let's all go shower, together. Then we can eat, together. And then go to class, together. And when the day is done we’ll all take a nap, together.” You smiled and hummed, leaning into his side. 

“That sounds lovely. I’ve missed both of you.” Draco gave each of you a short kiss and tugged on your hands, leading you to the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. 

You each helped one another dress slowly, sharing small smiles and giggles. It wasn’t long before the three of you walked quietly through the halls together to the bathroom, desperate to be in each other's arms again. 

[aleksanderscult]

My unpopular opinion for today? The Darkling was terrible at manipulating people

And that mostly comes from the author's incompetence on the matter.

Back in 2016-2017 on Tumblr she was asked which SoC character finds difficult to write and she replied "Kaz. Because he's clever and cunning".

So for her, writing manipulative characters is difficult and actually explains the reason why the Darkling's "efforts" seemed comedic in S&B.

I still remember how posts from 2020-2021 expressed bafflement about where did the Darkling actually manipulated Alina in S&B.

His first, full conversation with her? He lied to her three times and tried to figure her out. What her views are, what does she know about him, has her judgement been clouded by other people's opinions of him, how she feels about her supposed destiny. Apparently she failed in each one of them and the Darkling decided to withhold information since he didn't find her trustworthy. It was too early and she was too immature.

I've written about this scene here but I MUST put this reblog here as well because it's ✨gold✨

So for anyone who believes he should tell her the truth from the very beginning uhh....have you ever been to a job with a hierarchy?

(You can also read a very good meta about their first conversation here from @theweeklydiscourse)

His additional conversations with her? They lasted only ten minutes (maximum) and he mostly tried to soothe her fears and assure her that since she'll have the Stag she won't have to worry about the strength of her power. So, me, the reader, am I supposed to think "That walk that he took with her and lasted for five minutes was so suspicious"?. Ahh...ok.

That first kiss? Boy wasn't it awkward.

It was like I watched two high school kids being kissed for the first time💀

I'm sorry but if that was manipulating then he didn't succeed at making the reader say "Now that seems shady" but wonder "What the fuck was that?". The same thing Alina wondered apparently.

If he wanted to manipulate Alina, why didn't he stay longer with her? Why didn't he spend more time with her? The guy was missing for days from the Little Palace doing his duties and even Alina said that she didn't see him much. So where was the manipulation?

To the first, awkward kiss where he lost control for the first time?

To their Winter fete make out where he almost lost his pants?

(Homeboy couldn't even control his own feelings apparently)

Leigh describes him as "manipulative" but we have no context.

So basically it's like "Source? Trust me bro".

We only have a couple of characters accuse him of manipulation but no scenes to base the argument.

His attempts, in comparison to other truly manipulating characters in fiction (like Varys, Tom Riddle, Petyr Baelish, Tyrion Lannister, the Joker), seem honestly pathetic.

When the author doesn't know how to write such things then her "manipulative" characters and their attempts seem cartoonish, cringe and childish. There's no real danger to make the reader feel like there's something wrong. His scenes with her in the Little Palace only included attempts from his part to calm down her worries and their kisses only made the reader say "Oh he fell for her!" (Which is kind of funny because this is exactly what happened).

The only instance where he was manipulative and good at it was at the orphanage scene where he lied about the Grisha children and his plans with them in order to draw Alina out.

Besides that? Nada.

And it's actually strange to me when people call him "so manipulating" and it makes me think "Have you truly not read other manipulative characters from other authors to compare?"

Because, personally, I have and the Darkling seems like an idiot in comparison.

And this is not me trying to water down the Darkling but say how Leigh Bardugo is so incompetent in writing manipulative characters and try to present him as a "master" of it.

Because he was not.

(P.S. the fact that Leigh once said "I don't want my bad guys to carry a label saying "I'm evil" because I think the real bad guys are much more tactful in their attempts" is actually laughable considering how she gave her bad guy a label when she called him "the Darkling", gave him black clothes and a fearful reputation from the very first chapter. That man really didn't stand a chance from the beginning lmao)

[mrbubblyurchin]

My thoughts on Imperial Commando and Republic Commando as a whole

RC

So, I started and finished Imperial Commando on an eight hour plane ride last night. This means I am done with the series overall and this will be me going over it and the characters. But let’s discuss my thoughts on this book first

Needless to say, I was disappointed. It’s not that it was bad or anything, it just wasn’t as good as Order 66 in my opinion, and, of course, even though it’s the last book of the series, the series was left incomplete, leaving me a bit disappointed in the end.

The author obviously planned on writing more Republic Commando books after this one, with how the Jusik and Arla plot line was set up, how the age reversing was going, and how Darman planned to kill the Jedi, but obviously, the sequel was never made, and thus, the overall story feels incomplete. But, enough about that. Let’s talk about RC as a whole.

Oh, and I’ll be completely omitting Karen Traviss from this conversation. She as a person has nothing to do with the plot or characters, which are the things I will be judging today. If you have a problem with me talking about the actual book and not ranting about the author who wrote it, then too bad. 

Let’s start off at the beginning. With Omega. Omega Squad was definitely a pleasant surprise for me. I enjoyed each of their characters and liked how most of them found peace in the end. That being said, I do have some notes.

The biggest is Atin. I feel like after Triple Zero he kind of fell into the background besides when he married Laseema in Order 66. (And his relationship with her fell into the background as well) And he felt practically invisible in Imperial Commando. And I get why Niner and Dar were more in focus for that story, but it would’ve been nice to see some Atin. Also, he’s he only OG Omega member who’s POV we never got to see. 

Next up, Niner. Niner got two POV’s in the series, in both the first and last books. And those books were where I enjoyed him the best. Niner was a solid leader for the squad, and was loyal to them through and through, especially in his friendship with Darman. He didn’t fade as much as Atin, but I still wish he had been a little more prevalent throughout the series.

Then we have Fi. Fi is my favorite from the squad still, and I love seeing him whenever he appears. His one liners are great, and to be honest, he’s kind of the opposite of Niner here. He was very prevalent for books 2-4, but fell into the background in the first and last book. He still appeared more than Atin in book 5, but I barely recall even seeing Parja. (Which was sad cuz I loved the two of them together)

The last of the OG Omega, Darman. Dar is definitely a strong character, and he has a very heavy theme of being used, manipulated, and lied to throughout the books. By the Kaminoans, the Jedi, and even Kal, Etain, and Niner at times! His mental resolve to protect Kad at all costs is what is barely keeping him together after Etain died, and while he does resolve to hunt Jedi at the end of the book, it’s a nice full circle moment to see that while Darman thought his one true purpose at the beginning of the series was to be a soldier, he now sees he was destined for a greater one all along. Being a father. 

Next let’s move on to Ordo, Corr, the Jedi, and Mandos. We got a LOT to cover here.

Ordo- Ordo is definitely one of my favorites. Him and Besany are cute and great and I love both of them. I like all the moments he gets throughout the series. However, I do think he was focused on a little too heavily. While I do wish some of the other Nulls like Jaing, Prudii, or Kom’rk had been given some time to shine, I still loved Ordo and I think he’s great. (That being said, I will be omitting the rest of the Nulls because I really only know enough to talk about Mereel and A’den for a couple sentences)

Corr- A really sarcastic, witty, and funny guy that did not deserve what he got. Losing both of his hands was tragic, but, with lost flesh, he gained a new family in Clan Skirata. He was a nice addition to Omega after Fi had to leave, and I liked him a lot. (He and Jilka were pretty cute in book 5)

Etain- So… Etain. I like her, I really do. But sometimes, there are some choices that I cannot get behind. (Like how she purposefully went behind Dar’s back to get pregnant in Triple Zero) But even still, she is a good person, and she just wanted to be a good mother to Kad and live a happy life with Darman, and she didn’t deserve to meet the end she got.

Bardan- An all around solid character. I liked his development from bright eyed Padawan to rugged ex Jedi Mandalorian, and I think his sense of responsibility to Clan Skirata and also to Kad is very important. He made sure to put others before himself no matter the consequences, a quality with several others lack. 

Walon- A hardened Mando bounty Hunter with good intentions at heart. (Probably). I mean, he did save Jilka, lend Kal credits, and he also did try to find Sev. He cares. Even if it is in his own twisted way sometimes. (Still, what he did to Atin was brutal)

Besany- Love her. Since the beginning, she was all about standing up for the clones and their rights. She cared about them as people and not as property, and she saw their differences as well, and what made them unique, and she really does love Ordo, and I think the two of them are very sweet.

Kal- Oh boy. Here we go. I know I’m gonna get hate for this. Here I go. Brace yourselves. If you need tissues to cry, grab them. 

I like Kal Skirata.

…

…

…

Okay. I’ll continue. I am not going to say I agree with him on everything, and I’m not going to pretend he is a saint or anything. But I like his character. He cares about his family, and he does make mistakes. Everybody does. The problem is everybody has gotten so used to pointing out Kal’s every mistake that they refuse to acknowledge anything he did right. And guess what? Kal makes mistakes. He’s flawed. He’s not perfect. And that’s the point. Characters are flawed. People are flawed. They aren’t perfect. And neither is Kal. And HE ADMITS THAT IN BOOK 5. In fact, NY ADMITS IT TOO! She acknowledges that Kal taking over the Nulls and not seeing the similarities to the Jedi taking children is arrogant! She acknowledges that! And Kal acknowledges that and his flaws later in the book! Kal is arrogant, yes, but he sees that! He knows it! So before you go around saying how Kal thinks he is some saint god or whatever. He doesn’t. And there is proof of that in the books.

So, uhh, yeah. Overall, I think the Republic Commando series was good. There were some things that definitely could have been improved upon, but I liked it. I liked the story, and I liked the characters, so yeah.

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

anniversaries | yunho

Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates! I just wanted to write something cute and fluffy and short, so I hope you enjoy. <3 Warnings: I tried to avoid gendered terms but there might be some accidents, there are pet names (love, honey), it's implied reader is kinda shorter than Yunho but no specific size parameters are mentioned.

You are a person who keeps track of dates. You know every birthday in your family, always have a plan for holidays, and make sure your coworkers feel admired and appreciated.

So it was a bit of a shock to see your boyfriend of not-quite-one year standing at your door with a little pink box wrapped up in gold ribbon, his eyes bright and excited and his cheeks flushed with the winter chill.

"Yunho!" you exclaimed, nonplussed, ushering him inside and closing the door against the cold. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi to you too," he teases, putting the cake box on the counter and extricating himself from his jacket. During the winter, Yunho is always wearing a soft, fluffy sweater -- a habit he adopted after learning that you couldn't resist burying your face in his chest when he had one on. Even now, you can't help but wrap your arms around his middle, running your hands up and down the soft fabric. "I have a gift for you. I thought I'd surprise you and drop it off."

"What's the occasion?" you ask him.

He grins. "Why don't we sit down first? I want snuggles."

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, cuddling up beside him on the couch in the living room. "What have you been up to today?" you ask him, putting one of your hands up against his cold cheek to try and warm him.

"Honestly, not that much," he says simply, leaning into your touch. "I was mostly thinking about you all day."

You laugh -- he's not usually this clingy.

Your relationship with Yunho began as a friendship that had gradually become something infinitely more. He could make you smile even on days when it was hard to get out of bed, and you also felt that he drew strength from your honesty and good humor. You could talk to him about anything. He was genuinely your very best friend. And that meant everything to you.

"Was there a reason I was on your mind today?" you ask him as he winds his arms around your waist.

"You're on my mind every day," he insists, "but today is special, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I had a very important conversation with Mingi last year that made me decide to shoot my shot."

"Really?" you ask, surprised. "I've never heard this story."

He chuckles. "Well, Mingi and I were hanging out, and we ended up talking about you like we always did because I was a miserable loser who was scared to ask you out --"

"Okay, but I was just as big of a loser as you," you remind him with a playful shove. "We were both just dancing around having that conversation, which in hindsight, is actually pretty funny --"

"Because it was really easy once we finally did it," Yunho laughs. "Yeah, I remember. But I'm telling you a story now, love."

"Sorry," you giggle, looking up at him with wide eyes and trying not to smile. Yunho thinks his heart might explode, so he continues.

"It's okay. But anyway, Mingi got fed up with me and told me if I didn't ask you out I would never even know what you might have said. The turning point was when he said, 'you either say something and maybe get rejected, or say nothing and never even have a chance.'"

You think back to the "DTR" conversation you'd had with Yunho all that time ago -- how he'd taken your hands in his and asked you if friendship was all you saw in him. You remember how his hands shook, how it was one of the few times that you'd seen him unsmiling, and you'd realized that he was as terrified as you. Somehow, that made it so much easier to confess. "Remind me to thank Mingi later," you murmur, turning toward Yunho and snuggling into him.

"It was very wise of him," Yunho agrees. "But anyway. That conversation happened a year ago today, so I wanted to celebrate." He squeezes you. "Go get the box."

Reluctantly, you untangle yourself from your boyfriend and grab the box from the counter, sitting down beside him. "Do I just open it?" you say, shaking it to see if you can hear anything from the box.

Yunho winces as you shake it. "Uh, my love," he says, his expression pained. "I don't think you should shake that."

"Why?" you ask, suddenly worried. "Was it a kitten or something?"

Yunho laughs. "No," he says. "But it shouldn't be shaken. Just open it and you'll see."

So you open it. Inside is a small cake with very smeared frosting. You can tell what it used to say, though: "Happy Mingi Day." And you're laughing.

"I was thinking we could do something nice for Mingi every year on this day," Yunho muses, taking in the mess you've made inside the box. "Should we take him his favorite snacks?"

"Of course. But we should make a pact never to explain why we're so nice to him this one day out of the year," you muse. "It'll be hilarious if he never knows why."

Yunho beams. "I love you," he says, squishing you in a huge hug with his big sweater.

"I love you more," you say. Then suddenly you realize something.

"So it actually still took you three weeks to talk to me after you had the conversation with Mingi?!"

"Water under the bridge, honey."

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Easter Special??? Kind of?? A funny little thing inspired by a anonymous request 💕

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 ♥︎

✰✰✰✰

Task Force 141 paints some eggs 🥚🥚 (minus Price)

Ghost didn't think he'd ever end up painting eggs on Price's orders. ON PRICE'S ORDER. But here he was, painting tiny chicks in skull masks to best to his efforts.

His whole morning was a very... peculiar start to the day. He woke up to his alarm, changed from his pyjama pants and everything was normal- except one thing.

When he went to put on his boots he felt something round with his foot inside the shoe. Ghost fucking yelped the moment his foot touched it because his first thought was- snake egg. Some fucking leg-less lizard got into his room and laid an egg in his damn shoe!

Was that embarrassing that he just yeeted the shoe across his room the moment that crossed his mind? Yes. Was he a fully grown man? A soldier? Yes. But he was still scared shitless of snakes. He had his reasons.

He took a deep breath and decided to get a grip.

He nudged the shoe with a broomstick, from like two meters away.

Ghost relaxed when instead of a soft shell snake egg, a chocolate one, wrapped in colourful foil rolled out. He left the broom alone and picked up the chocolate egg.

He didn't need to think long to know who did that. Soap was the last person in his room the previous day and there is no way someone else snuck into his room at night without him breaking their necks. It had to be Soap and he is gonna pay for humbling Ghost's masculinity.

He still popped the chocolate into his mouth though. He had a sweet tooth and it looked like a good kind of chocolate. He had to.

The lieutenant finally put his boot on and walked out of his room. His plan was to hunt Soap down and make him suffer, but then his stomach decided to growl. It was so loud that a private passing by gave him a surprised look before quickly averting his eyes.

He took a turn and headed for the kitchen used mostly by the 141.

In the kitchen sat Gaz enjoying cereal.

"Good morning, Lieutanant."

"Mornin', sergeant." Ghost nodded and busied himself with making a sandwich.

"Any plans to go on leave?" Gaz asked. Ghost noticed that the man was significantly less reserved around him those days- trying to keep up a conversation, asking how his day was. It was nice since not so long ago everyone except Price and Soap were rather... not eager to converse with Ghost. Assuming he doesn't want to be spoken to and that he is always angry.

Which yeah- talking with random people wasn't his thing. Small talk made his skin crawl, never knowing what to say. But he enjoyed listening to what people had to say or just existing around someone, doing his own thing in someone's presence. It made him feel normal.

And when he had that with Soap and Price, it was pleasant to see Kyle warm up to him as well. Maybe that's because he himself warmed up to the man.

"Why would I go on leave?" Ghost said still focused on his bread.

"With Easter just around the corner, I thou-"

Ghost turned to face Gaz. "Easter?"

Well, now the surprise in his shoe made a little bit more sense.

Gaz made a face ready to judge Ghost on his unawareness when Soap entered the kitchen with a bag in his hand.

"We are painting eggs today!" Soap exclaimed, childish excitement buzzing off of him.

"I will kill you for that egg in my shoe." Ghost said sternly, playing with the butter knife in his hand. He probably didn't look intimidating at all or he just lost that effect on Soap judging by the way Soap just smiled his way.

"Oh, you are not the only one. I found an egg in my hat and cracked the chocolate on my head." Gaz crossed his arms.

"Could have put a real egg." The Scot snickered.

Gaz flipped him a bird.

"What do you mean we are painting eggs?" Ghost asked, stopping the sergeants from bantering.

Soap wordlessly started unpacking his bag, putting various dyes and paints on the table. Gaz blinked a few times, trying to understand how this overgrown child got into the military. While Ghost was ready to just head out, food was forgotten because this was just too ridiculous for such an early hour.

"You can't leave. If you leave you are refusing an order, Lt." Soap blocked the doors, smirking.

"Since when are you my superior, sergeant?"

"Not mine order- Price's." Soap waved a fucking printed-out order to paint at least one egg per person SIGNED by Price. Ghost knew Price's signature and this was authentic.

He snatched the paper from Soap and showed it to Gaz.

"How?! How the fuck did you get him to sign this." Kyle shared the same question with Ghost.

"Thanks to my winning smile and a wonderful personality?" Both men looked at Soap unimpressed. Soap pouted. "I talked to him about this for a whole week. Convinced him that it will be a great bonding activity OR he just wanted me to shut up about it."

"So the latter." Ghost said in unison with Garrick.

o***o

So there they were, painting eggs to their best efforts because at some point the whole thing turned into a competition of who will paint the prettiest one.

Looking at the very detailed egg Johnny was working on he is a clear winner, but he would be lying if he said this wasn't enjoyable. Experiencing the activity he never got to do as a child, spending time with his teammates- friends. Hearing Soap's laughter as he jokes with Gaz about something.

It wasn't so bad.

Please don't treat this seriously, I just wanted to have something goofy for the Easter time <3 Sorry for all the mistakes and I hope someone enjoyed it! Love ya all <3

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter seventeen: last suppers and sealed deals

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, sexual situations (consensual § nonconsensual), imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, disassociation, thoughts of self harm and annihilation, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 8820

“She was not so uptight in our youth!” Rhaenyra defended with a nostalgic smile, “We used to be friends once.”

“And I used to be a Faith Militant.” Daemon snorted as he finished off his goblet.

“You jest, yet your eccentricity suggests otherwise.”

Clearly tired of being outdone and outranked that day, the old prince huffed at his wife’s words. “The High Septon and I were only good friends.”

Although the humor didn’t quite reach the eyes of Rhaenyra and Maetilda, the table laughed. Joffrey cackled the hardest despite not quite knowing what was funny. There was a false sense of lightness in the air as everyone sort of pretended they were not mad at anyone, that everything was all a joke. Yet a dark entity lingered in the corner that they all ignored. One that could lash out at any moment.

“Joke all you want. Alicent and I were friends for a very long time, good friends. The real kind.” 

“What happened?” Jace inquired curiously. His voice distorted by the bandaging and swelling around his nose.

“My father married her.”

Both Jace and Luke glanced at their sister-by-marriage before looking back toward their mother. Rhaenyra stroked her swelling belly as she ate.

“Otto plotted all of it. Your father has always trusted him too much.” Daemon grumbled.

In sudden frustration, Rhaenyra shook her head, “Let us stop this conversation. Talk about something else.”

The room fell silent aside from the light patter of rats' feet in and out of the walls of Rhaenyra’s old solar. Another room that had thankfully been left untouched. Maetilda scanned the table with her eyes for any verbal escape.

Joffrey quickly piped up, “Viserys cried all day today!”

“He did? What did the wet nurse do?” Daemon questioned, leaning forward.

“She rocked him and sang to him and fed him and bathed him! His face turned red! He wouldn’t stop!”

“Yes, he must have been angry at something.” Rhaenyra nodded as she furrowed her eyebrows, “He was very tired by this afternoon.”

“Do you plan to birth our sister here in King’s Landing?” Jacaerys wondered aloud, the nasally ‘a’ in landing made the table hold back giggles.

“You three older boys were all born here. Right in my chambers.”

“Me too?” Joffrey gasped.

“Yes, my prince! You were the third!” Rhaenyra smiled at the youngest of the Velaryon boys.

Jacaerys perked up, “Will we come to stay when she arrives?”

Rhaenyra playfully chided her eldest, “We don’t know what the baby will be yet, Jace—“

“I hope it’s a girl!” Joffrey announced.

“But yes, of course you shall come stay.” She finished.

“As long as you’re here, will you make it look normal again?” Luke chimed in.

“Perhaps not by the Worm Moon or by the baby’s arrival, but in time.”

Maetilda finally gathered the strength to ask a question of her own, “If the baby comes after I am wed, may I stay until she does?”

The older two brothers looked to their sister in unison. Dressed finely with her hair now fixed neat. She was to wed the man who stole Baela’s dragon and broke Jacaerys’s nose. She was to betray her brothers, and disappear off to a castle they had never seen before. Clear out in the mountainous Vale. The princess could only hope they would forgive her with time. As she thought of Princess Rhaenys’s words from earlier, Maetilda wondered what kind of future her brothers envisioned. If it still included her after that afternoon. Certainly, it was one of Jace taking over the Throne after his mother and Luke would have the Salt Throne from Lord Corlys. She could not possibly threaten that. Not in Rhaenyra’s solar or in the future. Her betrothed was a second son with no castles to his name. He was no threat either. Only the Hightower side of him.

“Of course, I shall see to it.” Rhaenyra nodded, “You must be here to meet your sister.”

“See! You even admit the babe is a girl!” Luke teased his mother.

“I said nothing of the sort!” She gasped before taking a gulp of tea from her goblet.

Daemon chuckled, “Shall we place bets?” 

“I will not have you teaching my sons to gamble before they even carry their own coin purse!” Rhaenyra scolded.

The Rogue Prince rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Maetilda finished off her own goblet. A servant came to refill it, but she simply grabbed the pitcher itself from their hands. Personally filling her goblet to the brim and leaving it on the table in front of her. She could feel eyes watch her as she carelessly slurped the top until she could safely pick up her drink without spilling. The new red wine was bitter and dry, but it became tolerable the more she drank.

“Thirsty, Lady of Runestone?” Luke barked with laughter.

“Absolutely parched.” The princess retorted, eyes narrowed in opposition.

He smirked back as he briefly held his goblet out, “Would you like mine too?”

With a challenge laid before her, the princess was not about to back down. She was her father’s daughter after all. It was in her nature. Just as a dragon could not help but set fields of crops and livestock ablaze. Her younger brother was trying to provoke her, that much was obvious. He had not had his fill of turmoil that afternoon. He sought to finish what he started. 

“Certainly, if you should be too small to finish it.” Maetilda smiled back.

“Give it here, Luke.” Jace grumbled, trying to take the drink from his younger brother who dodged him.

“It looked like Til needed it more than me.” Lucerys chuckled with a sip as he teased his older brother, “I’m not sharing with you!”

Jace puffed out his chest, proud smirk smeared across his face, “Very well. And I shall remember next time Driftmark needs my assistance!” 

Luke scoffed, “Driftmark? Need your help?” The shake in his voice paired with the darting around of his eyes betrayed his air of confidence.

“With Rhaena in charge, Driftmark shall thrive.” Maetilda smiled mischievously, “Do not listen to him, Luke, we shall all be gray by the time Jace sits the throne.”

“Long live our queen.” A smug Daemon interjected.

“Just because we are in my private solar does not mean you may talk so freely.” Rhaenyra stroked her stomach.

“If the servants hear me, should I be charged with treason?” Her father rolled his eyes. “Does my brother’s bitch scare you so?”

“You should act to the standard your name suggests or be held accountable.” The future Queen stated resolutely.

“Of course, your grace.” His words did not match his tone.

A fire burned behind both pairs of eyes as the long-wedded couple stared each other down menacingly from opposite ends of the table. The princess was exhausted from it, from her day, from everything and everyone. She could hardly stomach the sight of them. Which only encouraged her to drink more. To the point where she could feel it pooling in her stomach. It was unbecoming of her. Something she only recently began to care more about. Perfection. Although she was not quite certain what perfection looked like, she knew she had to have it. She had to embody the very meaning of the word, live it and breathe it until she and the word became one. Perhaps then, she would see a day without an outburst from her father. Perhaps then, she would be able to breathe easy. Like Rhaenys did. Like Laena and Rhaena, and even Baela. Like Queen Alysanne herself. Until then, she could only pretend. Mimic what she saw in them and hope she had done it right.

His words suggested submission, something her father did not do easily. He would much rather fall on his own sword than kneel before another. The King seemed to be the only exception, his older brother by four years. And even then, Prince Daemon’s patience only looked like it grew more thin. It was no secret that before Rhaenyra had been named heir, Daemon would have been the one to fulfill the role. But even Ser Otto Hightower preferred a woman to the Rogue Prince. That would be his legacy. Both of their legacies. No matter how deep the rivalry ran, they would both be two men close enough to the Throne to taste its power — get drunk on it — but would never get close enough to actually wield it.

“We shall leave for Dragonstone on the morrow. When I come back, I will set things right in this castle. While we are apart, I expect you all to reflect on your behavior during this stay. It’s shameful, on all of us. Word of what happened today will travel — word of everything that’s happened. Tell me, have we inspired much loyalty during our time here?” Rhaenyra spoke with a slow and menacing authority in her tone.

The table shamefully hung their heads. Jace, Luke, Maetilda, even Joffrey. All except for Daemon, who only smirked back at his wife.

“We have. We managed to bring the King to his Throne, while his second-in-command has clearly been keeping him from it. We have reminded them who we are. Towers are nothing, but a dragon’s chew toy.”

“There is no proof for such accusations, Daemon. We do not know they are behind it.” Rhaenyra was firm before softening to point out, “Father was sick before we left.”

“Not. like. that.” 

The chair scratched against the stone floor as the Rogue Prince shot to his feet and grumbled out the solar. The door shut loudly behind him before the room was smothered in silence. Maetilda watched as Jace and Luke exchanged looks in the unspoken language only they knew. They had an entire conversation without moving a muscle. Occasionally, the two would take turns glancing at their mother. Following their eyes over to her, Rhaenyra sat deadly still. Hand mid-stroke across her stomach. Her eyes were fixed on where her husband had been. She was frozen for a short moment before she blinked herself back into reality. 

“Are any of you still hungry?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I want dessert!” Joffrey proclaimed.

“Dessert!” The older boys smiled.

Maetilda glanced down at her plate. Mostly empty. She had several servings of spiced pork, to the point where the greens and pomegranate couldn’t be finished. The thought of eating more made her stomach churn, “May I be excused? I am done eating.”

“Yes, my dear. Have a good rest.” Rhaenyra nodded.

“Not parched anymore?” Luke teased.

“I have thrown carafes before, do not tempt me to do it again.”

“Where was all this in the maester’s solar? I only got involved because it was the honorable thing to do.” He pressed, mocking her earlier words.

“That remains true. Throwing the carafe after you’ve been given ample notice is the honorable thing to do — honoring my word.” The princess sassed, “But because I am civilized, I shall choose not to, given the day we have had. Thank you again for throwing blows at my betrothed.”

“Of course! Need I remind you that he is the one who broke my nose?” Jace retorted.

“And who was the one who took his eye?” Maetilda fired back.

“Children.” Rhaenyra brought her authoritative voice back out, gaining the three’s attention. 

In the midst of everything, Joffrey had run to her side and clung to her apprehensively. The tension was thick as Maetilda felt an anger brew in her similar to the one she had at dinner with the Queen. The princess could feel it in her shoulders, squared defensively.

“Him of all people.” Jace shook his head in disappointment.

“I did not choose him.”

“You do not behave as such.”

“And what do you expect me to do?”

“Make him see reason!”

“I cannot even make you see reason!” The princess by title stood to her feet, “When you return to this castle, return with an apology.”

Before he could respond, she turned around and stormed out of the room. Much like her father had. Ser Gunthor had been waiting on just the other side. His face dropped when he saw the tornado in her head, the scowl that dragged down her face. She stormed down the corridor in a random direction, not entirely sure of the way back to her own chambers. As much as she thought she had a good sense of direction after seeing a path at least once, the Red Keep had a way of making her question everything. From which corridor led where, to whether or not her own family still cared for her at all. All the uncertainty felt like a knife to the heart. It made her stomach bubble. She could feel it in her throat. Her limbs shook with each step. Her arms shook at her sides. Never in her life had she been so utterly alone and righteously angered. 

The more she thought, the more certain Maetilda was that her siblings would never speak to her again. Perhaps Rhaena would, but only if Baela was not in ear shot. And she could not blame them. If Maetilda were in their shoes, she would probably feel the same. Once they got word that she demanded an apology from her brothers, there would be nothing nice left to say. They had supported her a few days ago, but she would never see it again. Maetilda’s betrothed broke Jacaerys’s nose, and she demanded an apology from him. She could already hear the impassioned arguments. As her mind ran faster than her feet, she could not hear the sound of her knight’s armor. Nor could she hear him ask if she knew where she was going. It was not until he sped up his pace until he passed her and parked himself promptly in her direct path that she finally remembered he was there. Only then did she stop. But with the emotions coursing through her, she felt too still. Her fingers played with each other as her weight went from foot to foot.

“Mi’lady—“

“Do you think I have betrayed my family?”

“Princess, you shouldn’t talk like that. Especially here.”

“I do not like that they are leaving while I stay here.”

“This shall be the first time you’ll be properly away from Prince Daemon since you were a babe.”

“I wish my mother was still here. Everything would be better.”

“Aye, it would be. ‘Can’t contest you there, mi’lady. But you and I both know the Stranger likes her too much to ever give her back. ‘Bet she’s the only one who can drink ‘em under the table.”

A smile ghosted the princess’s face, “From the stories I have heard, there would be no greater contest.”

“One day, hopefully when we’re both old and shitting ourselves again, we shall get to see it.”

“Are you suggesting that you have stopped?” Her joke almost went unnoticed through the seriousness of her delivery. She simply could not help herself when it came to teasing Ser Gunthor. 

The knight’s eyes bolted around the two of them for any witnesses, “There is no need to announce that to the whole castle!”

A bit of the tension visibly left the princess as she halfheartedly laughed. The knight joined in a bit more boisterously. Like the two old friends they were. They had a humor that only they shared. From the years of spending day after day together. He knew her as well as any of her brothers.

“Now that’s out of the way,” Ser Gunthor sighed as his laughter settled down, only for him to giggle through his next question, “Do you know where you’re going, mi’lady?”

In that moment, she looked around her to find that she did not recognize the corridor they were in at all. Her vision had tunneled in her turmoil, and had most definitely made a wrong turn. Embarrassed, she looked back at her knight with her head hung low. “Do you know the way?”

Ser Gunthor chuckled, “Hardly, but if we put our heads together, we should have more luck, yeah?”

With a nod from the princess, they were off down the corridor again. This time at a more level headed pace.  They used various familiar looking green tapestries and Faith of the Seven statues to guide their way. It took longer than it should have, but they eventually made it to the wing of bedrooms that contained her chambers. Her two handmaids were already waiting for her when the knight opened the door. Ser Gunthor bid her good night before shutting the wood door behind her, staying guard outside it. Her chambers felt cold at the loss of his presence. A part of her wished her knight could have simply sat with her as she was readied for bed. But that would never be appropriate. Her name would forever be tarnished, more than it already was.

The handmaids had less work this time around in taking down her hair. No impossible rats or tangles. The updo was undone into a single thick braid that cascaded down to her tailbone. Adelyn secured the bottom well before both handmaids worked to undress Maetilda and help her into her nightgown. The two worked silently. Not a single hummed note or whispered word under one’s breath. The princess missed the Pentoshi songs and the warm chatter. She missed learning new things about the two baseborn girls with a thousand stories. She missed her old handmaids too, Kayla and Loreyne. The ones who remained behind at Dragonstone, and always would. They knew her better than anyone, better than her own family. The sensitive parts of her scalp, her favorite flowers, the best way to wake her up in the morning, how she liked the temperature of her bath. They read her better than any book. They knew her in and out.

But she would never see them again, not until she returned to Dragonstone. The possibility of which only seemed to dwindle. Instead she would have Noarysa and Adelyn for as long as she remained at the Red Keep. Only six days prior, the two had been as good as strangers. And in only six days, they had earned their princess’s trust. They had proved themselves the most consistent and most reliable two in the entire castle. While there was always the possibility they were telling someone everything they knew, the princess seemed to get the sense that they cared. At least, she wanted to think that they did. They would only have each other for three more moons, and however much longer it took for her new sibling to arrive. Perhaps they would be assigned to her upon her visits to see Aemond and Helaena, but there was no guarantee.

The thought of Aemond made Maetilda uneasy. The image of him storming out of Maester Orwyle’s solar was engraved in her mind. She was certain she would never forget it. He had not looked at her once. Aside from when the maester saw to her very minor injuries. It filled her with worry. She hoped he would make good on the promises he made her, that he hadn’t changed his mind after everything that had happened. His callousness was enough to make her question. He was going to go through with the wedding, that much had been made clear. But would he live at the Red Keep all his life? Would he risk daily confrontations with her brothers once Rhaenyra was Queen? Would they ever find a way to get along? Common ground or understanding? With such uncertainty, would Aemond force his way into Runestone? Would he demand she let him live there? Would her people look to him over her if she were to allow it to happen? Would she allow it all to happen? Or would she even have a choice in the matter?

As the princess had been lost in the depths of her own mind, she almost did not realize her two handmaids had finished their duties and turned to leave. Timidly, she called after them to let them know her father would break fast with her in the morning before wishing them a good evening. They smiled warmly at her, lingering by the door.

“Would you like help getting into bed, Princess?” Noarysa inquired sweetly.

“Thank you, I am afraid I am far too restless.” Maetilda declined, “I shall see you both in the morning.”

The two sweetly curtsied before the door clicked shut behind them. And then it was almost silent. Barefoot and clad in her nightgown, the princess vacantly stood in the middle of the room. Eyes fixed on the door through which her maids left. She felt hollow, filled only with anxiousness, remnants of anger, and the pitcher of wine in her gut. It weakened her legs, made them more malleable. Her arms were loose and limp. Her throat was dry, as if it were coated in a thin film when she swallowed. The light pitter-patter of rats occasionally echoed between the walls. It was a maddening sound. Some tiny feet scurried off into the distance while others only grew closer. The rats certainly knew where the secret passages were. They certainly used them to run about the castle. With only the rat catchers to stop them.

In her solitude, all she could think of were her siblings. Their faces of disgust and betrayal and anger. They hated her. The princess did not know how it all happened so fast. Any of it. Just days ago, she had stood in the corridors with her brothers refusing to swing at a belligerent Aegon first. The three had been as close as ever. They had giggled down the passage until their cheeks were red. At the time, she couldn’t have imagined anything different.

Only evenings prior, she had thrown wine and a carafe at Aegon. All because he had prevented Luke from stepping in between Aemond and Jace. He had done the same thing the princess was just doing that afternoon. He stood up for his brother. He kept the fight fair. Baela’s actions that afternoon were no different than what she herself had done at dinner with the King. What made everything so different? Had she truly switched sides? That had been the last thought on her mind as she dove for her sister. Yet whether her actions had been intentional or not, there was no doubt her father would do something about it. Something that would most likely hurt. And there was no promise he had the patience to wait until their morning meal to deliver his revenge. Perhaps it would be easier in the cloak of night.

The evening air was chilly as the princess opened the door to her balcony. The breeze stung slightly as it cooled her cheeks, a subtle reminder that her day had been real. Her family’s entire stay at the Red Keep had all been real. Not a dream, real. As much as she wished she could wake up from it all like a nightmare, consequences would still be waiting for her when the sun came up. Unknown consequences that only caused her to spiral the more she speculated about them. Perhaps if she were lucky, the sun would never come up. If she were lucky, everything looming over her would simply disappear. All of her troubles and consequences would cease to exist, and all of her family would all get along. If it were a dream, perhaps such things would be possible.

The small stack of books from the library sat at her bedside table. Her eyes were glued to them. Practically in a trance. While alone, all she could do was think. No one had scolded her for the other night. For wandering about the castle late at night, scantily clad in nothing but a nightgown, only to steal books from the Royal Library. If she had been seen by the wrong person, such behavior could have been yet another blow to Princess Rhaenyra’s name. Yet she hadn’t been scolded for it. Although, nothing could have been more disastrous for the King’s Heir than what took place that afternoon. All of her children of age had been involved and only one of Queen Alicent’s. Yet Maetilda had hardly been scolded for that. She felt like she was walking into some sort of trap, but she had no idea what it was or what triggered it. All she knew is that she wanted her siblings back. If they would ever agree to have her again. Filled with an anxious energy, the princess grabbed the book on top and took a seat upon the chaise lounge.

The Mighty Histories of the Bronze Kings. It was the smallest out of the books she had taken. She hoped its size would make it easier to read. Bound in a dark brown leather with bronze titling, she carefully bent the book open to the first page. The Preface, written by Maester Seban. 

“In my many years at Runestone following Aegon’s ascension to the Iron Throne, it was my pleasure to learn of the Vale’s extensive culture, steeped in thousands of years of history. A history that cannot be discussed without first discussing the many Bronze Kings. I was honored to collect my information through many conversations with various different members of the mountain people. Former regality, merchant class, and peasants alike. All of which shall be accredited accordingly.

My accounts shall serve as proof that not even those as stubborn and mighty as rocks saw it in their best interest to bend the knee to our great King. May he also conquer the deserts.”

She read the preface over three times before the words on the page could fully process them without distraction. Before she understood what was being said. A quiet two-tap knock sounded from within her chambers, only a small distance away from where she sat. Picking her head up from the book, she saw nothing out of place. Just like when she awoke from her bad dream the other night. Her chambers were eerily untouched. Nonetheless, she felt a presence. As if the cloaked figure was back again. In an effort to make it appear, she looked back down, clamping her eyes shut for a moment, before looking back up again. Nothing. Putting her book in the seat beside her, the princess stood to look around. Still nothing. She looked out onto her balcony. Finding nothing out of place there, she closed the doors and latched them before pulling the curtains closed.

Facing the room again, it remained empty. She expected the cloaked figure to jump out at any moment. As if it was waiting for her to let her guard down. But the last thing she wanted to do was give the spirit the upper hand. Deciding to face her fears head-on, the princess began checking the corners and crevice of her chambers. Under the bed, in the wardrobe, behind the bookshelf, anywhere she could think. Yet in the midst of her hunt, she did not see the new guest enter.  By the time she turned back to the rest of the room, there was a figure standing before her, but it was not the cloaked ghost. It was Aemond. He had knocked before entering, through an entrance that was not the door. He had knocked just as he had promised.

“I thought you were the ghost.” She whispered.

“Do I haunt you so?” Aemond quipped smugly, just as quiet.

“Presently, it seems. Yes.” 

“And to think I assumed we were allies now.” 

“That’s one way to phrase it. Co-conspirators against the future crown.” 

“Shall we take this to the balcony then? So your friend won’t hear us.”

“I did not welcome you into my chambers, my prince.”

“Do you wish to come to my own then? I owe you many thanks for what you did.”

“So thank me now. Why must we go anywhere?”

“Do you trust me, ñuha dōna?” (my sweet)

“No. Not entirely. The way you stormed off without a word. The way you would not even look at me in the maester’s solar. How can I trust that?”

“Ziry vestragon nyke enkagon kirimvose se iā vaoreznuni.” (It seems I owe both thanks and an apology.)

“Kostōba laesi.” (Astute observation.)

The prince grabbed Maetilda’s hands in his own. The action reminded her of the inappropriate attire she was dressed in, but simultaneously prevented her from covering herself. While he meant for it to comfort her, to pull at her heartstrings, his hands only angered her. She fought away from him.

“What words are so important they cannot be said to me tomorrow after my family has left? I’ll be stuck here for three moons. We shall have plenty of time to talk.”

“Please come with me, Princess.”

“No.” She hesitated, voice firm yet quiet, “We have already made too much of a stir today.”

“I cannot sleep. My mind cannot rest until you have heard my words.” His whispered plea pulled at the princess’s insides.

“And I must trust these words are so dire they truly cannot wait until tomorrow to be spoken?”

“Emā pāsagon lēda nyke?” (Do you trust me?)

“You have already gotten an answer to that question. No. If we are caught, I only came because you threatened me.”

“What a tale that should be.” He tried his best to muffle his laugh, “Did I hold a dagger to you as well?”

“Yes, and said you’d end my life if I didn’t do as you bid.”

“You didn’t come that easy. Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“That would be absurd.” He shook his head, “Shall we go?”

The princess did not budge. She only looked back at him, thinking of all the promises he had made her that morning, “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? About the tower we shall build you.”

He stilled, making her heartbeat quicken anxiously, “You are the Lady of Runestone. Your castle, your land. But I wish to talk.”

The princess’s heart stopped, “Fine. We can go to the balcony. Let me get my cloak.”

She practically ran to her wardrobe. A fire burned her from the inside out, it was as if her feet felt too hot to touch the ground. With the same shaky quickness, she grabbed her traveling cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Her hands struggled with the fastening. Aemond’s eye lit its own fire across her skin as she stood so vulnerably in front of him. The two stood and stared at each other for what felt like the whole night. Something within Maetilda stirred, did not sit right. She knew how wrong it was for him to be there. She knew they could very easily get caught. But Aemond seemed to know just what to say, knew how to intrigue her just enough so that she could not resist him. He seemed to read her mind without hearing her thoughts. She watched as he adjusted his unlaced tunic before moving to open the doors to the balcony.

It was at that moment that the princess realized how underdressed her betrothed was. He was dressed just as inappropriately, certainly not dressed to be visiting her. She wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps his state of dress had been a symptom of his urgency and running mind. He was too deep in thought to consider the clothes on his back. Or lack thereof. The lacing on his shoes was also undone. Perhaps thrown on as an afterthought in his fervor. Perhaps he had to turn back for them. It was the closest he had ever come to resembling Aegon. The way his trousers hung on his hips reminded the princess of how Aegon’s slipped down his legs as he drunkenly ran down the corridor. How proud the Queen would be. Weighed down by a sheathed dagger, the right side hung down more.

Knowing well enough that all of their parents were already angry at them, Maetilda attempted to confidently stride out onto the balcony. She would much rather be flogged through the streets before allowing the prince to see just how much his words had shaken her. She did not want to give her power to him so easily — or at all. Aemond followed behind her, shutting the doors as a way to further block sound. The princess pulled her cloak around herself again, both for warmth and modesty. The evening breeze was cold at their height. Closer to the ground, the night would have been far more comfortable. Peering downward, ant-sized people carried torches as they moved from place to place. At any other moment, she would’ve been mesmerized and entranced. Unable to pull her eyes away. But the presence behind her kept her at attention. Tense and alert.

“It astounds me how each time I look at you, my breath is taken away all the same.” His voice was still hushed, yet not as quiet as before.

“I don’t like compliments that are given as tricks.”

“You think I wish to trick you?”

“You wish to win me over with flattery before you convince me to reconsider the promise you made. You got into a fight with my brothers, and now you want my castle.”

“Ao vīlībagon aōha mandia, ñuha dōna. Ao tymagon isse se tegon, tepagon aōha brōzi syt nyke. Skorkydoso īlon glaesagon mijegon se tolie?” (You fought your own sister, my sweet. You rolled in the dirt, risked your reputation for me. How could we possibly live apart?)

“Ēza daor yet issare iā jēda. Emi va moriot glaestan mijegon se tolie.” (It has not yet been a fortnight. We have always lived apart.)

“Nyke daor glaesagon mijegon ao, lēda se prūmia eman sir.” (I cannot live apart from you, feeling the way I do now.)

“Se ñuha sombāzmion iksis mērī iā tȳne gūrotrir?” (And my castle is simply an additional reward?)

“Your castle is yours. I do not want it. I want you.”

Maetilda was shell shocked, completely hollow. Her mind went blank. Her heart stopped as if it had never started. His words were so direct they felt exposing. As if with three sentences, he suddenly had full access to every thought and feeling she had ever had. As if he could see through her skin and in her guts. It was something that filled her with panic and terror. As much as her heart pounded, she needed to make him stop.

“Skorkydoso kostagon nyke gīmigon gaomā daor pirtir? Ao kessa mērī ērinagon.” (How can I know you are not lying? You have everything to gain.)

“I am sorry. I deeply regret not bidding you farewell before my departure from the maester’s solar. I do hope you will find it in you to forgive me.”

“It is more than that. You barely acknowledged my presence. I felt like I was going mad. Like you were as disgusted with me as my family.”

“It pains me that you feel so hurt from my actions when I have nothing but pride for yours. The only disgust I have is for your family. Not you.”

“I am a part of my family. You cannot feel disgust for them and not feel that same disgust for me.”

“We shall be a family. Our own family.”

“Bona ao kessa sagon se bartos hen?” (That you shall be the head of?)

“Ñuha giez ābrar, eman mērī mirre udlitan naejot ñuha muña.” (My whole life, I have only ever answered to my mother.)

“Qilōni udligon naejot zirȳla kepa. Mirre aōha ābrar, emā udlitan naejot aōha rōvēgrie kepa.” (Who answers to her father. All your life, you have answered to your grandsire.)

“Sir ao ȳdragon hae aōha kepa.” (Now you sound like your father.)

“He is a smart man. I would be foolish to question his assessments. Vestras ao se aōha rōvēgrie kepa jaelagon ñuha sombāzmion.” (He says you and your grandsire want my castle.)

“Lo nyke jeldan aōha sombāzmion, mazeman ziry. Kesan daor epagon aōha udir ēlī.” (If I wanted your castle, I would take it. I would not ask your permission first.)

“Se Vāle māzigon naejot ao lēda vīlībāzma. Sȳrje daor sylugon ziry.” (And the Vale would declare war against you. Best not try it.)

“I mean to keep my promises to you, Maetilda. In return, I ask that you keep me at your castle. I cannot live my life looking over my shoulder in my own home. Please, you cannot let me live like that.”

The princess hesitated. She wanted to tell him no, to remind them of their agreement. But the look on his face made her second guess. His eye full of desperation as it swam in hers for answers, mouth ajar with worry. His eyebrows were raised in question, causing small creases around the strap of his patch. His expression reminded her of the times when they were little. In the small windows of time they slept under the same roof. Maetilda and Helaena would be off in their own world, Aemond always trailed close behind. Whenever the rest of the boys would run into their trio while playing, they never failed to stop and single little Aemond out. His own brother and nephews took pleasure in taunting him. Calling him a girl, mocking his lack of a dragon, pushing him around. The Kingsguard usually stopped them before it got to blows. Every time it happened, Maetilda always saw that look. A cry for help, for mercy, for peace.

“We do not have to decide this tonight. We can talk about everything after we have both had sleep. After my family leaves.” 

“You may have time to think about your response to my proposal. I can sympathize with that.” Aemond nodded resolutely before adjusting the bottom of his tunic, “The issue remains that I cannot sleep.”

“And why is that my concern?”

The prince took small, careful steps forward, “Because it is you that I am thinking about.”

“Picture me counting stitches in a seam. You should fall asleep rather quickly.”

“What was it your father said?” Aemond glanced off for a moment in thought. “I know you wait for my back to turn. You wish to take what is yours.”

“Something of the sort. He won’t give up my castle any easier than me.”

Aemond chuckled breathily, “He was not talking about Runestone, ñuha dōna. He was talking about you.” (my sweet)

“My prince, in order for something to be a joke, it must be funny.”

Before she could react, his hands were cupping her face. Their chests resting against each other. Never had her nightgown felt so thin. Memories of his last visit flashed in her mind. The way he stole her first kiss after professing his love — his desire for love. He had talked to her so differently that night. He had an air of authority, just as her father always did. He spoke of bedding her so eagerly. Just as Aegon had in the corridors. The two were not so different. A realization that scared her. Perhaps as the years went on, Alicent’s eldest sons found common ground. Maetilda had not seen them fight once. Had not heard Aegon insult Aemond even once. The older brother had even stepped to the younger’s defense, at dinner when Lucerys tried to help Jacaerys gang up on Aemond. 

“Princess, I would never hurt you.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks.

Maetilda stared back in confusion. It was her turn to search his face for answers, “And you think my father would?”

“I know he would. I heard him.” Aemond’s voice was so low and serious, it sent shivers down her spine. But worst of all, he was right, “Your father would hurt anyone for the right reason.”

The princess did not know what to say. She was sure her mouth had flapped open and shut like a fish out of water. She felt like one. Unable to breath as the person who had her on a hook and line sat and watched her flounder. While the prince may have been right, Maetilda was still her father’s eldest daughter. Aemond could not possibly be right. She simply could not accept it.

“Dōna, I do not wish to wait for his back to turn.” (Sweet)

“I beg your pardon?”

“I wish to take you right from beneath his nose.”

Her eyes widened in surprise yet again as she watched the prince’s face jump towards hers, crashing their lips together. Just as the first time, she was frozen in shock. His lips moved against hers while she remained still. One of his hands was clamped around her face, crushing her cheekbone under his thumb. The hand that had been petting her hair locked around the back of her head, ensuring she could not pull away. With his hips, he pinned her against the edge of the balcony. The force of him was heavy. It pinched the vertebrae in her spine as the weight of him bent her backward. No wall stood behind her back to catch her. With nothing to anchor her feet, she felt as if she could flip over the side and plummet down to her death. The image of it played in her head. All the while, Aemond continued to kiss her.

Had it been earlier in the day, she would have welcomed it. She eagerly would have kissed him back. Without question or hesitation. But too much had happened. She felt treacherous and guilty. She felt a pending sense of doom. The hand at the back of her head slipped to the base of her neck, lacing fingers into the back of her scalp and tangling themselves into her braid. Aemond pulled away only to rest his forehead against hers.

“Please, Maetilda. Do not deny me.”

“Ao jaelagon naejot gūrogon nyke.  Iksis bisa daor skoros jaelā?” (You wish to take me. Is this not what you want?)

“Jaelan ao.” (I want you.)

“You don’t—”

“Jaelan ao. Jaelan ao. Jaelan ao.” (I want you, I want you, I want you.)

Tears welled in the princess’s eyes as she struggled to shake her head, “Aemond, you can’t. We can’t. Not yet.”

“Maetilda, please, just once. Just once while he is still here. Just once, so he may never deny our union, and then not again until we are wed.”

She could feel the wet trails begin to form down her cheeks, only to be wiped away by thumbs that were not her own. Two hands cupped her face again. Warm, wine and liquor scented breath fanned her into a trance-like state. Her voice was soft, weak, and wavering as she tried to hold her ground, “Mazemilā lēda iā mijegon hen ñuha udir.” (You will take regardless of my word.)

He kissed both cheeks, right next to his thumbs. He kissed her forehead and both temples. He kissed each corner of her mouth before he slowly kissed her again, continuing to bend her backwards. Causing her to yelp. Taking advantage of her open mouth, Aemond caught her bottom lip in between his teeth. He had the grin of a lizard lion, the smirk of a dragon with its dinner in its jaws. She was no different than charred sheep.

“Ilagon syt nyke, dōna. Kostilus.” (Lay down for me, sweet. Please.)

Only then did he peel himself off, giving her back a sense of relief. But Maetilda didn’t move an inch. The two locked eyes for what felt like the longest time. The princess would not dare move. She felt like a mouse, helplessly cornered by a tomcat. One movement and the prince would pounce. 

“Lay down, Maetilda.”

Looking down at the balcony floor, she could barely form words, “Here?”

Aemond shushed her as if she were a crying baby. He stepped forward again, “Shh, shh, shh, shhhhh.” His hands came back up again. This time, they unlaced the fastenings on her cloak. Slowly and carefully, so as not to stress a single stitch or seam. “You are in my hands. Do not fret. Nyke kessa mazverdagon ao sȳrkta emā mirre issare gō. I shall give you se vys se skoros ilagon rēbagon ziry.” (I shall make you feel better than you have ever felt before. [I shall give you] the world and what lays beyond it.)

Pulling away from her without breaking their stare down, Aemond swiftly flicked her cloak out like a blanket. The princess’s knees shook at the sight. The prince was serious, the chill of the breeze confirmed it. More tears slipped down her cheeks. Instead of wiping them away, the prince took a cushion from the bench and laid it down as a pillow. When he made his way back over to her, she could not look at him. Only at the cushion sat atop her cloak — where she was to rest her head. More tears glided past her cheeks and down her neck. Was that truly where she was to be deflowered? On the cold, dusty ground of her balcony. No marriage. No ceremony before the Gods. No dowery. No grand feast. Nothing. 

By the waist, Aemond moved her to stand at the bottom of the cloak. Preceded by his warm, liquor scented breath, came feather-light kisses that started at her cheek. They traced along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone, and up to her shoulder. Tickling her skin all the way. Her heart pounded like war drums in her chest. Overwhelmed with embarrassment for what was to come, she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. The soft tug from the shoulder of her nightgown being gently moved out of place sent off bells of alarm in her head, she instinctively wanted to squeal. But instead, she made a point to bite her mouth shut. More kisses dusted the top of her shoulder.

“Aemond, —“ She tried desperately to keep hold of her resolve.

Another kiss to the corner of her mouth cut her off, followed by the low hum of a familiar tune. Not that of the Pentoshi songs her handmaid sang, but one her father and Laena would sing to her and her young sisters, proudly proclaiming that the girls were three heads in their own right. It was a song from Old Valyria. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the bright melody of Lady Laena’s voice. Chirping out the words like the call of a morning bird. 

Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

(Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing)

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose

(From my voice, the fires have spoken, and the price paid, with blood magic)

But Lady Laena’s voice was not truly there. Maetilda knew it wasn’t. Her body laid with the Gods beneath the waves. Her dragon answered to a new rider, and he stood before the princess humming. He was the only one humming. Yet, it was like a ghost lingered around them. The hair on her arms stood on end. Chills electrified her spine. It did not help that the tomcat only continued to close in. Eye alert, claws sharp. The closer he got, the more his humming unsettled her. The voice of Lady Laena still rang on in her ears.

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

(With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing)

Helping her down with an arm on her back and the other grasping her hands to steady her, Aemond laid Maetilda down on the cloak. His hair tickled her cheek as he hovered over her. The princess’s entire body trembled. Goosebumps erupted across her skin from the ground’s cold touch. More tears escaped out of her eyes. She could hear her heart pound in her ears. Pools of snot began to clog her nose, which only made it harder for her to catch her breath. All the while, the prince undid the knot at the top of her nightgown. She wanted to scream. Her knight would be there in only a few steps. The rest of the castle would undoubtedly hear her too. Her father included. They would find her underneath her betrothed, and everything she had ever dreamed for herself would be ruined. She could not scream.

Hae mērot gierūli

Se hāros bartossi

Prūmȳsa sōvīli

Gevī dāerī

(As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined -- beautifully, freely)

The hum of the song repeated itself on a loop. She could not bare to watch any longer. Each of his boots had haphazardly plopped to their own corner. Maetilda clamped her eyes shut as she felt her betrothed on his knees, positioning one of her legs on either side of him. His trousers came down easy. She could hear him slide them down his thighs. Most of his clothing had already been undone. The cold air bit at her legs, her hips, her torso as her skin became exposed to the night. He had lifted up the bottom of her gown, and she soon felt the fabric bunch at her waist.

Her mouth went dry and her eyes flew open. Anxiously, her hands grabbed at the bunched fabric and tried to cover herself back up. At least down to her thighs. At least enough to keep some dignity in tact. But the tomcat only pushed her hands away, gripping them both in one of his own paws. Aemond held them above her head, using his spare hand to pull at the neck of her gown. Her vision seemed to cloud as her head felt like it was filling with smoke. As if a fire had started burning somewhere inside her. Her organs only blackened the fumes.

It felt warm and cold all at once, causing her to flinch away from the feeling. The fleshy sensation that poked at the place that was never supposed to be touched. The place worth her body weight in gold. Her heart fluttered through the haze clouding her mind. Her gut screamed. A shiver ran through every bone in her body. Aemond used one of his knees to pin her hip down, to keep it from flinching away from his touch again. His free hand came up to his face. Eyes lidded, he stared straight into Maetilda’s soul as he stuck two fingers in his mouth. Coating them in a layer of spit. Without hesitation, his two fingers cut straight down her torso and toward the apex of her thighs. The princess’s gasp covered up the yelp that was lodged in her throat. His hand found refuge between her pillowy thighs. Wet fingers played with her flower, lightly rubbing it in slow circles. 

On instinct, her knees tried to snap together only to be obstructed by the prince’s body. He held her down and kept her knees apart with ease. She tried to squirm, but she could hardly move. Her mind screamed and screamed and screamed. The humming stopped and Lady Laena’s voice was gone. Instead, her father’s voice echoed between her ears. Shouting angrily about how much she disgraced and disgusted him. What if anyone were to find out? What if someone were to hear? Or to walk in? She wouldn’t live to see the sunrise, wouldn’t live to see another day. She would be better off dead. A princess soiled before her wedding day. A lady without morals. A no good harlot. Yet she couldn’t stop Aemond. As filthy as she felt, she didn’t want him to stop. As long as his fingers continued their circles. Sliding his two fingers south, he used his thumb to continue the tantalizingly gentle pattern. The wet pair slid ever so slowly until they reached the lid of the princess’s honeypot. Maetilda’s breath shook. A lilted note spilled out with it. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth, Aemond’s eye seemed to glaze over at the very sound. Velvety lilac deepened to satiny plum. It couldn’t mean anything good.

A yelp escaped her mouth as one of Aemond’s fingers inched inside of her. Splitting her body in two. The prince’s lips soon met her own, muffling the sound of the princess’s quiet whines. His tongue poked its way into her mouth, dominating all of her senses. He consumed her. As if she truly were charred sheep. He only stopped in order to pull his fingers out of her carcass and lick them clean. The feeling was intoxicating, but the view of it even more so.

A/N: this little diddy has probably been over-revised. i’m sorry it took so long!! hopefully it was well worth the wait! happy season 2 premiere day!!!

it’s my first go at anything kinda sexy! i was excited to try it! kinda nervy to post it (hence the hold up) but i hope it does something for you! the freak continues in the next guy though, hope ur cool with that HAH (the next one will be coming much faster)

TAGLIST: @marvelescvpe

xoxo messy