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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

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This has been living rent free in my head and I need it to leave, lol.

So you know how like everyone loves Losis lane, flirting with her and all that?

What if a Rich Male Reader was going to a red carpet in Metropolis and he's a gentleman. However, instead of asking for Losis' company. He makes a casual beeline for Clark Kent, asking for his company for that evening. Kissing the back of Clark's hand in greeting.

I think Clark would be a flustered mess.

Clark Kent x male reader

Headcanons

I’m basing the reader off of a marvel oc of mine I’m pretty sure I’ve used in the past called Lockjaw, so you have a prosthetic jaw in this lmao. My head aches so much from doing chemistry homework, so I’m writing this as a reward.

You were a multi billionaire, rivaling Wayne in his riches and rank. But unlike Wayne, who was a big support to heroes like the justice league, you tended to stay neutral and not get too involved with the hero and villain world.

You were an incredible inventor though, standing side by side with the likes of Lex Luthor, but unlike Luthor you didn’t use your inventions for evil, but you didn’t use them for good either. You had been shunned and insulted by the world too much to love it as blindly as most heroes did.

Your prosthetic jaw was the cause of most of your childhood scorn. Your father had been what many called a crazy scientist, and in one of his wild experiments it had ended with your jaw being torn off your body.

Years passed without you showing yourself much to the public, until you appeared at 18, ready to take over your father’s juggernaut of a company, a black metal jaw and a cold look in your eyes.

The tabloids called you the ice king or even the ice emperor with how much power you carried, as you had never buckled under social pressure and had never been seen with a romantic partner.

But their most favorite name to call you was Lockjaw, because of your prosthetic. You had despised the name in the beginning because it made you remember the traumatic experience, but over time you made the name yours and yours alone.

You weren’t easy to manipulate like some rich people, you weren’t dumb, and you paid close attention to what happened around you, never letting someone get the upper hand.

You were extremely influential, single, and very handsome, so of course you were invited to most if not all large parties for the upper class, though you only went if it was something important. You didn’t party for fun, so when you showed up the place was always filled with more paparazzi than normal, trying to get a comment from you or a good picture.

Because of whom you are, you’ve had many run ins with heroes, and your extreme intellect has also made it that you needed to know about them. So, you most likely know the identities of most known heroes, villains, and anything in between. You have also fought many of them, especially villains, who think you are an easy target.

So, when you walked onto the red carpet to see not only Bruce Wayne but also Oliver Queen you couldn’t help but sneer, though your prosthetic jaw didn’t allow much movement of your mouth. Of course, you had never told them you knew their identities, why would you?

Out of all the heroes you liked Superman the most, so when you saw Clark Kent there, following close behind Lois Lane of all people, you almost couldn’t resist.

Lois of course wants a scoop of you as well because of your fame, but when she tries her usual tricks, she is sorely disappointed when none of them work. She, and everyone around you as well, are very surprised when you instead go to the big clumsy man following after her.

Clark is immediately flustered when you shake his hand, but also lift it to kiss the back of it. He had not expected you, the ice prince, Lockjaw, known for your dismissal of paparazzi and the outside world, to kiss his hand.

It’s not even an act when Clark starts blushing and looking around in confusion, because something must be wrong for that to happen.

Camera’s flash and people are yelling, asking all kinds of questions of course, because who was Clark and how did you two know each other? What had changed that got the ice prince to react like that?

But you don’t do much more than kiss the back of his hand and wink at Clark, before you are on your way again down the red carpet and into the party. Lois will immediately grill Clark for all he knows about you, and both Bruce and Oliver will be curious too as to why you picked Clark exactly.

After that the daily bugle would always send Clark to things you went too, hoping to get a good scoop or another world-shaking reaction. But you didn’t do much more than smile at him or wink, always flustering the kryptonian whenever you did it.

How else was he supposed to react to an extremely handsome, extremely rich, extremely sought after bachelor, who only seemed to have had this reaction towards Clark and no one else.

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ereardon · 5 months

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Golden Hour || Ch. 4 [Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol

Chapter summary: Bob's former fiancé moves back to town; Bradley finally gets Olive to go on a date with him

WC: 3.3K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

You were sitting on a stool at Breakers picking at their breakfast of champions — grits, eggs fried in butter, a biscuit soaked in gravy, a doctor’s nightmare — when Phoenix’s head snapped up.

“Charlotte,” she said, eyes wide. Something in her voice made you look up. A beautiful woman, late twenties or early thirties, stepped through the doorway. She had blonde hair in soft waves, perfect white teeth, legs that went on for miles beneath her short dress. But somehow it came off much more prim and proper than the skirt you were wearing, and you crossed your legs self consciously.

“Natasha,” she said and you bristled. Who was this girl and why was she calling Phoenix Natasha?

“Back home visiting your mom?” Phoenix asked, refilling the coffee machine and then turning around, placing both hands on the slightly sticky bar top.

Charlotte shook her head. “No. I’m home for good.”

You watched Phoenix’s mouth turn into a fine line. There was a density in the air that hadn’t been there a moment before. She caught your eye and then added, “Charlotte, this is Dr. Olive James. She’s taking over Dr. Robert’s patients.”

Charlotte smiled. It was frigid and tense. Fuck, she was stunning. But she had the aura of someone who would cut you down immediately if you stood between her and winning. You knew her type well.

You were her. In another life. The life that ended a month ago on a perfectly sunny day in New York. Not that you had been able to see the sunlight from inside the frigid OR as Peter confessed.

You held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Charlotte stepped forward, sticking one thin, pale hand in yours. It was limp. “You too.”

“So you grew up here?” you asked, taking a sip of coffee.

She looked at Phoenix. “Yeah. Something like that. Listen, I should probably head out. I’m meeting Mrs. Flannery at nine.” Charlotte looked you up and down. “Nice to meet you, Olive. Nat, I’ll see you around.”

She was gone in a moment, just a cloud of Byredo perfume left in her wake. You turned to Phoenix. “Who was that?”

“That was Charlotte,” she said. “Local pageant queen. Complete nightmare. And Bob Floyd’s ex-fiancé.”

***

You had thought you were getting somewhere with Bob. After the way the two of you had left things at his father’s house. But the moment you stepped in the office there was a chill. Literally and figuratively. Molly sat at the front desk shivering in a cardigan.

“Dr. James,” she said, teeth chattering. “Mr. Flannery is in your office. Unscheduled appointment. Oh and the HVAC guy is coming this afternoon. Something’s wrong with the air conditioning!”

“I can tell,” you muttered, swinging open the heavy wood door to your office and smiling. “Mr. Flannery, I’m Dr. James. How can I help you today?”

He looked up. “It’s my throat. Feels all scratchy. Like I can’t swallow.”

“If you can sit up on this table over here, sir, I can help you out.” You maneuvered Mr. Flannery onto the paper-covered examination bed and pulled on a pair of gloves. “Open wide for me.” Swollen, red tonsils with white spots and an inflamed throat. You nodded, sitting back. “Sorry to say you have strep throat.”

He closed his mouth. “Well fuck.”

You laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ll write you a prescription for azithromycin. It’s a five-day course, make sure you take it about an hour before having any food. And even if you feel better, take the full course or it could come back and that would be a worse case.”

“Is it contagious?” he asked.

“Very.”

“So I should send my wife in for treatment?” Mr. Flannery asked.

“That would be a good precaution,” you said, writing down the prescription and ripping it off the pad. “Here you go. Take this to Molly up front and she’ll get everything squared away.”

He nodded, standing up. “Thanks Doc.”

“Oh, Mr. Flannery?” He turned. “What does your wife do?”

“Why do you ask, Doctor?”

“I, um, I knew someone had a meeting with her this morning. Was just curious. Still trying to keep everyone in town straight.” You flashed him what was hopefully a convincing smile.

He nodded. “She’s a real estate agent. Are you looking?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have her come by and give you a card,” he said. “And for a check up.”

“Feel better.”

He closed the door behind him and you leaned back. Charlotte was looking for a house. That was serious. You had met the woman for all of three minutes and somehow were annoyed by her presence and the fact that she was in Willow to stay.

Three patients later, you thought your limbs might fall off. “Molly,” you cried, tossing open the door to your office. “It’s freezing, when is the HVAC guy coming?”

“Dr. James.” Bob’s voice was hard. You spotted the empty desk, as well as the sparse waiting room, just one older woman on the phone in the corner. “My office. Please.”

You rolled your eyes, following Bob into his office. He looked toasty in a pair of slacks and a button down, sleeves still rolled up enough to show off his firm forearms. Meanwhile you shivered in a short skirt and sleeveless top. “It’s cold as fuck,” you moaned.

Bob had his back to you, not even bothering to respond as he moved across the room, opening an old wooden cabinet that you assumed held medical supplies, emerging a minute later with a lab coat and a sweater. The sweater was a vintage cable knit, navy blue and slightly frayed at the collar and cuffs. He held them out. “Here.”

You took them wordlessly. Was Bob Floyd being nice to you? “Um, thank you,” you replied, putting the lab coat down and sliding on the sweater. It was slightly long, ending just above the hem of your skirt, and much too wide, but you sighed in relief as the warmth enveloped your body. Bob picked up the lab coat, holding it out and you pivoted slightly, placing one arm in and then the other. The jacket brushed against your knees and you hugged your arms close.

He nodded. “Molly’s at lunch but when she’s back I’ll have her call Ed again about the A/C.”

“Human popsicle,” you replied and to your surprise Bob’s lips twitched upward. You grinned. “Well, um, thanks again.”

“No problem.”

He seemed in no rush to have you leave, one hand propped against the wall casually. “I met Charlotte today,” you said. It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Bob’s face went pale. An almost ashen color. Similar to watching someone hemorrhage blood after a birth. You regretted it the moment the words left your lips, but you just kept word vomiting into the abyss.

“She’s pretty. Cold. Not quite a human popsicle, we might freeze here and it’ll be like the Day After Tomorrow without Dennis Quaid to rescue us cold. Just, distant.”

“Charlotte is cold,” Bob said. His response was crisp. Calm. He would make an excellent surgeon. Collected and even tempered. You wondered briefly if he had ever thought of a specialty outside of general medicine.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine.” He pushed off of the arm that had been leaning against the wall, running one hand through his hair. “I’m guessing Phoenix told you about our history.”

“That she was your fiancé,” you replied. “That’s all.”

“That’s all,” he repeated. “Yeah, that’s about all there is.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“When she left,” Bob said. “Five years ago.”

“Wow.” Five years was a lifetime. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry she’s back,” he replied. “Charlotte is a tornado. Everywhere, all at once. Destruction and chaos and excitement. And then gone in an instant. She loves to leave piles of shit in her wake.” It was the first time you had heard so many sentences come out of Bob’s mouth. And with such vitriol.

“Maybe it was time Willow had some excitement.”

Bob looked at you. There was something different in his gaze but you couldn’t place it. “Dr. James,” he said, silky voice grazing your skin gently. “We’ve only just started to adjust to having you here. That was exciting enough.”

“I’m not that bad,” you protested.

Bob shook his head. “Sure, Olive.”

There it was again. Your name on his tongue. There was something so sexy about the reserved way he said it. You smiled, stepping closer to the door. If possible, it was colder when you tugged it open. From next to his desk, Bob smirked. You grabbed the chart next to your door and turned toward the waiting room. “Mrs. Okane?”

***

When Bradley showed up at the end of your shift, you didn’t even think twice. It had been almost a week since he had been in the clinic. That was five times longer than he had gone without walking through the front doors the week before.

You smirked when he popped his head into your office. “Dr. James?”

“Mr. Bradshaw.” You put your hands on your desk and stood up. “What is it this time? Let me guess. Yellow fever.”

“See, Doc, I think it’s more serious than that.” He ambled through the doorway, wearing a suit. That alone took your breath away. No one as handsome as Bradley Bradshaw should be allowed to wear a suit, it was practically a crime how good he looked. He would have to try himself in a court of law for that. “I think I have stress cardiomyopathy.”

You laughed, head tipped back. “A broken heart? Really Bradshaw?”

“But you’re lucky,” Bradley said, stepping closer. “I’m a master at Googling and WebMD and I think I found a cure.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You go on a date with me. Tonight.”

You let out a sigh. “Bradley.”

“I know, I know, you’re not here to date,” he said. “But one dinner? Doctors have to eat, too. Have to practice what you preach, right?”

“You’re wearing me down, Bradshaw.”

“That’s the point.” He flashed a brilliant smile which turned into a frown. One of Bradley’s hands came out, fingering the pocket of your lab coat. “Is this Bob’s jacket?”

You hadn’t even realized that it was embroidered with his name. You had been seeing patients in it all day as Dr. Floyd. The fact that some of the patients may have thought that made you his wife made you blush. “Um, yeah. The AC was broken and it was freezing, so I borrowed something from him.”

Bradley nodded but the relief didn’t reach his eyes.

Against your better judgment, you reached out, taking Bradley’s hand in yours. His face warmed instantly. “OK. Dinner.”

“I’m guessing not Breakers.”

“You know what I would love?”

“A salt bagel from H&H?”

“Well yes. And the crispy tuna from Koi on Bryant Park and dim sum from Flushing.” Bradley laughed. “But no. I just want a good, healthy meal. Something that isn’t drowned in butter and doesn’t have five different types of pig products on it. And a glass of wine that isn’t from a box.” You shuddered.

“I can make that happen, Doc.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Red or white?”

“Surprise me.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, dropping your hand. “Oh and Doc? Do me a favor. Lose Floyd’s coat. Makes you look like his.”

“And that bothers you?” you called out as Bradley walked through the doorway.

He turned back. “Yeah, Liv, it does. I’d like to pretend that on tonight’s date you’re all mine. Even if I’m still winning you over.”

***

What the hell does one wear on a date in Willow, Georgia?

All of your jeans were designer and too tight for the occasion. A dress felt too fancy. You kicked a slinky black Reformation dress into the corner of the room in frustration, standing in the middle of the chaos wearing a La Perla lingerie set and a pair of Jimmy Choos. Maybe you should just answer the door wearing that. Bradley might have a heart attack. It would go hand-in-hand with his fictional cardiomyopathy, you thought.

Finally you picked up a black silky tank top and a short matching skirt, tugging them on just as there was a knock on the door. “Coming!” you shouted, grabbing your purse, a YSL Manhattan that was, no shocker, better suited in Manhattan than Willow, and spritzing a dose of Maison Margiela perfume on before rushing for the door. “Hi,” you said, letting out a quick sigh.

Bradley had on a pair of jeans and a tight polo that showed off his muscular arms and broad chest. He grinned. “You look amazing.”

You slipped the purse onto your shoulder. “It’s nice to have an excuse to dress up again.”

“Willow fashion scene isn’t cutting it for you?”

“The dress barn isn’t exactly my vibe,” you replied, locking the door. Bradley chuckled. “What?”

“That,” he said, pointing to the door handle. “You locking the door. No one locks their doors around here. It’s Willow.” He placed an emphasis on Willow.

“That’s insane.”

He shrugged. “Again, that’s Willow. Here, watch your step.” Bradley held out his arm, guiding you down the steps toward his truck.

“So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, Doc,” he replied, pulling the truck into reverse.

Bradley’s surprise was dinner on his wraparound porch. He lived in a charming house one block from the town center, white with blue shutters and pots of mums outside the front door. He had set up a table and candles on one side of the house and even from outside you could smell something delicious. “What is that?” you asked, sniffing the air like a Doberman.

He smiled. “Well you said healthy, but this is the South. So it’s chicken and dumplings. But I promise I made a salad.”

“Smells divine.”

“Want to come inside and grab some wine while I check on dinner?”

“Sure.” The inside of Bradley’s house was just as charming as the outside. A crisp white linen sofa facing a marble top coffee table, a six-person dining room set and a small kitchen with a little kitchen island. Down the hall you spotted an olive green mudroom with built-in shelves. “Your house is gorgeous.”

“My mother decorated,” he replied, stepping up to the stove and pulling off a lid from the pot, the smell of rich chicken and veggies hitting your nose. “I let her because it was that or death.”

“God, I feel that,” you replied. “My mother is the same.”

“Probably why I went to New York,” he added. “Cut the umbilical cord.”

“Do you miss it?”

“All the time.” Bradley put the lid back on the dutch oven and reached up in the cabinet for two wine glasses. “Red or white?”

“Red.”

He produced a bottle of pinot noir from a wine cabinet and set it on the counter. “What do you miss the most?”

“Everything,” you replied automatically. “The sounds. It’s too quiet here to sleep at night.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Bradley swirled a knife around the seam of the bottle, loosening the cover over the cork. “I miss the food.”

“Obviously. And the nightlife. And the Met. Saturdays in Central Park and then walking over to Bloomingdales. Taking the Metro North on weekends up the Hudson. Christmas on Fifth Ave. Getting blackout drunk in the West Village and running into celebrities.”

Bradley chuckled. “You might have had more fun than I did.”

“Maybe,” you replied, taking a sip of wine. “In medical school for sure. But residency? God, I was lucky if I was able to shower and order takeout before falling asleep.”

“You know what I wonder?” Bradley asked.

“Hmm?”

“Did we ever meet in the city? How could we have spent all those years within the same twenty mile radius and never met?”

“Chance, Bradley,” you said. “It’s not like I was hanging out at Columbia Law.”

“I like to think we were in the same place at the same time before, but didn’t meet until now.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

He smiled. “Because that’s a better love story, Doc. Two people, fated to meet. It’s every Hallmark movie rolled into one.”

“So I’m the big city girl who leaves her fiancé and goes to the small town and falls in love with the local baker or farmer or pumpkin stand owner?”

“Exactly.” He grinned.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah. Except I didn’t leave him. He left me. And I didn’t leave. I ran. They’re different.”

“You’re here now,” Bradley whispered. “Maybe that’s the fate part.”

“So what you’re telling me,” you said, leaning in closer, hip brushing against the kitchen island, dangerously close to where Bradley was standing, “is that you’re a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

After dinner, which was excellent and you confirmed was cooked entirely by Bradley, he cut thick slices of local peach pie and carried them out to where you sat on the porch. You shivered and Bradley found a blanket, laying it gingerly over your shoulders. You smiled up at him as he took a seat across the small table from you. The candles were melting down into their holders. You looked around. “This is a cute street. Feel like I’ve been here before.”

Bradley hooked one thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Bob’s house.” He pointed to the house directly next door. You grimaced. That’s where you recognized it from, the day you had shown up to yell at him only to realize he had the flu.

How was it possible that the only two men you spoke to in the entire town lived next to each other?

“Olive.” Your name was sweet on his tongue. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“How long do you plan on staying in Willow?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

He leaned back and shook his head. “Just wondering how bad my cardiomyopathy is going to be. If I should make an appointment at Atlanta General for next month or sometime next year.” It was October but the leaves were still firmly stuck on the trees.

“Bradley,” you whispered. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want me.”

“Patently false.”

You shook your head. “Trust me. You’re better off. Find a nice girl, like Phoenix. Someone who belongs here.”

“That’s the thing,” he replied. “I don’t exactly belong here anymore either.”

“So why stay?”

“Problem is that I don’t belong anywhere. Not here, not New York. I’m not entirely dedicated to a single place.”

“Maybe it’s somewhere else,” you countered. “Somewhere you haven’t been yet.”

“I know what I’m missing, Olive, and it’s not a house or a job or a favorite restaurant.”

“Then what is it?”

“A partner,” he said and your breath caught in your throat. “When you find that one person you can’t live without, you can live anywhere. Because it’s not about being tied to a place. It’s being tied to another person.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t,” he said softly. “Not until I find her.”

“Maybe she’s back in New York,” you replied. “Or Atlanta. Or San Diego.”

“Or maybe, she’s sitting in front of me pretending to eat a piece of peach pie.”

“Oh, Bradley.” At that moment, a light flickered on in Bob’s house. You turned just as Bob approached the window of his living room, one hand on each side of the drapes. Your eyes caught his for a moment.

And then he pulled the drapes together, shutting you out.

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sweetlypunk · 4 months

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I need help choosing my next story so may the odds be in my favor

My brain works overtime and I never know which idea to focus on 😩

#like I can never focus on one idea bc my brain is constantly working in new #pls help me i beg #pls repost #jason todd #batman #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #red hood #dc comics #nightwing #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #young justice series #red robin x reader

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divinemare · 8 months

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Cruel Cauldron

✎ᝰ┆azriel x oc

ᝰ┆part one

part two

this has been literally on my mind FOREVER, to give you a little introduction, an arrange marriage between an oc princess and our lovely shadowsinger, where they ofc hate each others guts.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advance!

—— —͙ – -

When her feet touched the ground, Karina felt the racing urge to throw up overcome her.

“Don’t disappoint me any further, Karina,” her mother’s words echoed in her mind, making her stand extra tall and keep her chin up even tho the female could not see her now.

“I’m gonna make you pay for this, mother,” she thought to herself, feeling her blood run hot and her breath catching as she took in the whole situation of what her life had become in the last weeks.

And all for a stupid, Cauldron-fucking-damned bond.

៚ ·

Three weeks ago…

Anthra was one of the mightiest kingdoms in all the Continent, yet not the mightiest. And that had always been a bother to her mother, Queen Verena Basdearg of Anthra. A ruthless female who had always been jealous of the mighty Hybern and Prythian realms.

Anthra, her homeland, consistent of three principal lands:

The Black Land, was where the finest clothes, and the most delicious crops would come from.

The Silver Land; it was known for its concentration of mines: the rarest, most precious jewels came from there, as well as the gold and silver and bronze.

And finally, the Red Land. Where all the most terrible, brutal soldiers where forged in, hence the name; red as the blood staining its floors.

And all three of them answered to the Imperial Queen.

Which, also happened to be her mother, one of the most feared females in the Continent.

Princess Karina Basdearg of Anthra, Second Daughter, Princess of the Valley and the Silver Land. Was anything but what a princess was expected to be if only when…: gracious —if only while her mother stared her way—, polite —whenever she actually liked the person she had to treat with, or her mother was in ears length. Not to mention that breathtakingly gorgeous as well —that she always was—, or so the lords and nobles always loved to tell her whenever they were so desperately trying to get her favor.

Now she was getting ready to humor them again, in her mother’s monthly grand dinner with the lords of the three lands. Brushing her brown black hair and testing which color of tint would best suit her dark olive skin tone.

Two soft knocks on the oak doors of her room made her stare into its direction from her mirror, and so she only bothered to mutter a ‘come in’, before a female poked her head into the room.

“Are you ready?” Her sister asked in the soft cool tone of her voice.

Before her was Princess Arisa Basdearg of Anthra, First Daughter and Heir to the Imperial Throne, Crown Princess.

They shared several physical aspects; like their hair and their skin and their button noses. Yet Arisa’s features were sharper, more grown, either for 200 years of difference between the two of them, of the burdens it carried that Karina would never understand. As well as the gemstone green eyes that had once belonged to their father, unlike the honey amber eyes Karina had inherited from their mother.

And then there was also the fact that, Arisa was everything Karina was not; actually polite, actually gracious, actually fit for a Queen.

Arisa was the success, while she was always meant to be the disappointment. But that never actually bothered her tho, it took one look at her big sister to know she never wanted to carry the burdens Arisa did.

“Not yet,” she replied with a sigh, brushing her thick eyebrows with a little brush.

Arisa smiled playfully through the mirror, and Karina lifted one of her now perfectly brushed eyebrows at her sister.

“Maxon came to visit.”

Karina’s eyes instantly sparkled at the mention of the name, but keeping her best composure in front of her sister, she left the brush calmly on the table and turned to look at the female with an unbothered eyebrow up.

“Did he, now?”

Arisa nodded, and with a smile, added: “So did Bastian and Fiona,” at that, Karina didn’t have it in her not to smile, and she jumped out of her sit and ran out of her bedchamber, and into the long halls of the palace. “Karina, wait, don’t run!” Her sister’s voice echoed behind her.

She only stoped running once she was at the entrance of the dinning hall, where every month the grand dinners were held. Karina gathered some air and fixed her dress just in case her mother was already inside. She gave a look to the guards, and they, ever so discreetly, nodded their approval before opening the doors.

The oak cracked as the dinning hall’s chandelier lights greeted her entrance, and all heads already present turned to look at the Princess who had just arrived.

Karina’s eyes, tho, only looked for three specific pairs once it was obvious her mother was still not there, and when hers found the browns she had been looking for, her smile stretched and she ever so gracefully nodded to the lords that made a curtsy for her, then walked as fast as she could without looking too un-mannered towards the already opened arms and bright smile of Maxon Hatchett.

“Your Highness,” the male inclined his head, and as soon as he was up, Karina threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

She had missed his brown eyes and dirty blond curly hair, his dimpled smile, his sun-kissed skin, his strong arms and wide shoulders. Maxon Hatchett was truly a male that attracted looks everywhere he went. But mostly, she had missed her best friend, and the only guy that made her heart jump with excitement.

Maxon laugh lowly, the sound brushing Karina’s shoulder, and then murmured, in a soft, low voice:

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Liar,” she said in a whisper. “You would’ve written if that were true.”

“I’m afraid that was my fault, cousin, I kept him rather busy,” when Karina parted from Maxon’s hug, her smile immediately grew at the sight of Bastian Basdearg.

Karina hugged the male with the shoulder-length black hair, the one with whom she shared their olive dark skin and honey amber eyes, who towered her for over a foot for how tall that motherfucker was, her cousin Bastian, as tightly as she had hugged the male before him, and then pushed him away to eagerly look for the auburn hair of…

“There’s no way you’ve grown this much,” she laughed at the sight of the little Fiona Basdearg already not so…little.

Both females smiled and hugged each other, while Karina complimented her other cousin over and over again.

“What are you all doing here, I thought you two were busy in the Red Land.”

As part of the Imperial family, and the only other one in the line of success since her father died leaving her mother with no more heirs, Bastian had inherited the Red Land from his mother: her mother’s only living sister. While Fiona, even tho she was still too young to formally become Princess according to their laws, was to inherit the Black Lands from her father: her mother’s only living brother.

There had been 6 siblings in her mother’s line, now there were only three. Karina had heard of one of them, the other two; she hadn’t even bothered to ask.

“Well, we were, but…” Bastian started, but the words got cut off from him when the oak doors of the dinning hall opened again with their loud creak, and inside came Queen Verena Basdearg.

Everyone instantly curtsied, and Karina couldn’t help but raise her eyes to meet her mother’s cold stare.

That’s why she hated to have her mother’s eyes; while honey amber was supposed to be such a warm color, Verena Basdearg made sure to turn it colder than any icy blue.

Arisa came trailing their mother’s back like the good Crown Princess she was, and Karina gave her sister a questioning look when the room filled in with more tension than usual, only for Arisa to advert her gaze from her, telling Karina she —and, mercifully, Fiona too—, seemed to be the only one left in oblivion there.

But when her mother opened her mouth, when the venomous tongue rolled to spat sharp words, Karina fell in absolute shock with each and every sentence.

“I hope someone here is ready to tell me why has Prythian declared war, and what are we gonna do to wipe them off of this Continent if it so happens to be the case.”

៚ ·

Karina almost dropped the glass liquor cup she had just grabbed when she heard her mother’s statement.

Prythian had what? And they were going to do what?

On a normal setting, Karina would’ve struggled not to laugh, because even tho they had one of the most powerful armies in the Continent, that their soldiers were known for their brutality and efficiency, and they counted with a large amount of wealth and powerful people, they had always been some steps behind Prythian, behind the powerful High Lords and the great Seven Courts.

But now, after they had gone into a war with not other than Hybern…

The repercussions of a war could leave the strongest of kingdoms in vulnerability and danger, and Prythian, as of right now, wouldn’t survive another war with another powerful and healthy enemy.

“What, in the name of the Mother, is going on,” she asked in a low whisper to Maxon when everyone else was sitting at the table, discussing the supposed offense Prythian had committed against Anthra, while they stayed in a corner watching everything unfold. Fiona sat at their feet with a bored look on her freckled face, and the curls of her red hair falling in her soft olive skin.

Maxon was the second son of the Red Land Lord, she was the second princess, and Fiona was not even a princess yet, they weren’t needed in the big discussions yet, leaving them at the sideways at all times.

It had been why Maxon and Karina had gotten along so quickly centuries ago, they both understood each other, as they both lived under their siblings shadows.

“You can thank this all to my wonderful cousin,” he sighed, shaking his head, while Karina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“What does Yvett have to do with this?”

“She got killed,” he said it so nonchalantly that it took Karina a moment to actually process the words, and almost spit out the liquor in her mouth when she did.

“What?!” She murmured loudly, cleaning the few drops that fell on her chin with her wrist.

“Remember that guy I told you she ran away with?” Of course she remembered, it had been the biggest scandal in court for months.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well he was just as awful as her. The son of an apparently really importar member of the Court of Nightmares. She got in deep shit trouble and got what she deserved at the end.”

“That’s…” Karina stared at the male with a frown. “The most vague explanation I’ve ever heard.”

“I didn’t asked for much detail,” Maxon lifted an uninterested shoulder, and Karina rolled her eyes.

The death of Yvett wouldn’t have presented such a big conflict if she didn’t happen to also be the daughter of the Queen’s Alhara; a group of the five most rewarded and trusted soldiers of the Imperial Guard. And her mother’s oldest —and only— friend.

“Fucking hell,” she exhaled a long breath, and Maxon nodded with a sigh of his own.

“Fucking hell indeed.”

៚ ·

“Please tell me mother is not going to do something outrageous,” once dinner was over and everyone was sent to their chambers to rest, the Basdearg sisters instead made their way to the palace gardens for a late night walk under the beautiful moon.

Arisa sighed, giving Karina a bad impression already.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated? It’s not, really. You and I both knew Yvette, outside this lands that protected her for her mother’s rank, sooner or later she was going to get herself killed, that bitch was despicable.”

“Karina!” Her sister reprimanded, but did not corrected her, as she knew her words were true.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“You know mother,” Arisa said with another sigh, and Karina clicked her tongue in response.

“Mother has been looking for an excuse to put a spike on half of Prythian High Lords to put us above them.”

When Karina finished spitting her words, she looked at her sister and noticed the tiredness and wariness in her eyes, and sighed putting her arm around the female’s. Her sister was constantly working, constantly worrying, and Karina hated to see her so worked up.

“How’s Taj? Haven’t seen him today.”

Taj was her sister’s husband, they had been together for already 400 years, and were one of the only marriages in the history of their family that had been actually out of love.

They had been lucky when they met centuries ago in one of her sisters political trips around the Continent, he was a noble from another kingdom, and they had fallen madly and annoyingly in love.

In other words, they could be described as the perfect royal love fantasy, a happy, thriving couple. Now that Karina did envied.

Their mother had been so proud Arisa had secured a strong alliance, yet another thing she did unintentionally perfect. While the only person Karina had ever wanted had been never enough to please her mother. Even if Maxon was the son of a Lord, he wouldn’t give her mother more power, and that was enough for the Queen to disapprove of any kind of affection her daughter felt for the male.

“He’s…busy, organizing a trip,” Arisa said without looking at her.

Karina lifted an eyebrow, noticing the faint shimmer in her sister’s green eyes and smiling sideways.

“Aha…”

“And…” The Crown Princess sighed.

“And…” Her younger sister repeated.

Arisa stoped walking and took a deep breath, when they were face to face, Karina noticed the actual glow on the other princess’ eyes that spoke loudly with hope and excitement.

“We want to try to have a baby again.”

They had been trying to produce an heir for 300 hundred years now. And a century ago her sister had finally gotten pregnant, only to soon after have a miscarriage and lose the baby. They had stoped trying since then, recovering from the heartbreak.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sis, but doesn’t your husband have to be, you know, here, to try for that baby?” Arisa laughed melodiously, and grabbed her sister’s arm again to resume their walk.

“He’s been busy finding Emeraya, have you heard of her?”

Emeraya was a very, very ancient healer who dedicated her life to helping fae females to have babies, since for them it was more easy to live 500 years than to have a baby in that time.

“Oh, Ari,” Karina hugged her sister tightly, while her heart murmured a prayer to the Mother and Cauldron to give her sister what she so much deserved. “You’ll have a family soon, I know it.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” Karina smiled, leaving her sister’s embrace to look her in the eyes.

“We want to leave in three days time. But mother wanted me to go to Prythian to reunite with the High Lord of the Night Court. Apparently he requested an audience, maybe to try and make peace with our mother.”

“What a fool,” Karina snorted a laugh.

Of course she knew Rhysand. And some other High Lords of Prythian. But, as Rhysand was her mother’s least favorite of all seven of them, Karina had made him her favorite.

“You want me to go in your place?” She sighed, lifting a knowing eyebrow.

“Please?”

Rhysand was fun to be with, other members of his Court? Not so much. That male named Kier was one of those males you couldn’t help but want to throw up just thinking about him. And that Shadowsinger? Mother above, what a total waste of that much beauty.

“Ok. I’ll go,” she smiled tightly, but her wariness wore off when she saw Arisa’s bright smile.

“Thank you so much, Karina,” the oldest hugged her little sister, and Karina swallowed her sigh.

“Oh don’t think this is free, sis, this is going to cost you. Big time. I expect retribution after all this, in pretty dresses and shoes,” Arisa laughed, and took Karina’s hand to guide them both back to the palace.

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cecilebutcher · 4 months

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「♭𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐎𝐥𝐲𝗺𝐩𝐢𝐚♭」

Pinterest moodboard

Unmatched, witty and queen of

The best strategies we’ve seen

!!Likes do nothing, Reblog instead!!

Tw: death, adultery(Aka cheating)

Daria is part of my twst x Greek mythology oc series. I highly encourage you to check it out^^

⊱Bᴀsɪᴄs⊰

Name: Daria Olympia

Age:18

Date of birth: July 1

Zodiac sign: Cancer

Hight:200cm

Dorm: Rosantée (a beautiful dorm made by @midnightmah07 & @viilpstick )

Class: 3A

Place of birth:

Mother: —

Father: Aegaeon Olympia (48)

Step mother: Eileen Olympia (50)

Brother: Lex Olympia (19)

Brother: Seraphim Olympia(19)

Sister: Cinda Olympia (17)

Brother: Cyrus Olympia (17)

Brother: Nestor Olympia (16)

Sibling: Aison Olympia (16)

Sister: Xena Olympia (6)

Dominant hand: both

Based off: Athena (Greek mythology)

Sexuality: on the Aroace spectrum, pansexual.

⊱Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ⊰

Daria is a 200cm teenager with olive skin with Cappuccino colored hair and grey eyes. Her hair is long thick and wavy that she usually has styled in a ponytail. She has tons of Beaty marks all over her body, the most noticeable ones being the ones on her face. She, surprisingly, has a lot of muscle on her body and tons of scars. She has a white tattoo on her neck that reaches down to her back.

⊱Vᴏɪᴄᴇ Cʟᴀɪᴍ⊰

Maki (jjk dub)

⊱Cʟᴜʙ⊰

Debate club

⊱Bᴇsᴛ Sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ⊰

History of magic. Conjuration

⊱Hᴏʙʙʏ⊰

Spear fighting. Martial arts. Hand to hand combat. Debating. Puzzles. Mind sports. Boxing. Reading.

⊱Bᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴏʀʏ⊰

Daria is one of 8 children to Aegaeon Olympia, a successful and extremely rich businessman who owns many companies. She’s the third eldest after her two twin brothers, Lex and Seraphim. Her mother died a few hours after giving birth to her. So she grew up with her father, brother and step mother, who wasn’t too found of her. While she shares the same father with all her siblings, she doesn’t share the same mother.

She’s closest to her younger brother, Nestor, as they both have a loving for travel and competition. But she’s also extremely close with her two sisters, Xena and Selena, as they are the only other girls in the house. As she grew up she also started getting closer to her step mother, while she used to hate her, blaming her for not being able to have both her parents, she now understands her and has a lot of respect for the lady for keeping to deal with her father.

⊱Sᴘᴇᴀᴄɪᴀʟ Mᴀɢɪᴄ⊰

-:Warrior of the mind:-

The ability to creat illusions that can be used for anything. Most of the time these illusions are used to map things out, like plans.

⊱Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs Oɴ Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs⊰

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎: I’ve yet to meet Rosehearts, but I heard he can be a bit, how do I say, um, bossy. And that just won’t work with me. I don’t like being told what to do.

𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚢: I don’t know much about him in all honesty. So I have no opinion of him.

𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊: Ugh, I’ve met him once in my life. Never. Again. Honestly he’s just, ugh. I can’t believe I can’t find the word to describe how annoying and just, I hate him to say the least.

𝚁𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎: I have no opinion on him other than the fact that I feel sorry that he has to deal with Kingscholar.

𝙺𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚖: Ah, the Al-Asim heir. He’s quite nice, and is friends with my youngest sister. I like him in all honesty.

𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕: Viper is, well, interesting, to say the least. I like hearing his thoughts sometimes. He’s a bit uptight but I can rely on him if it ever came to it. And, I won’t lie, He’s quite beautiful and charming.

𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚕: I’ve never met Ashengrotto before, therefore I have no opinion on him. Next.

𝙹𝚊𝚍𝚎: I met him and his brother once a long, long, time ago. And that was too much for me in all honesty. I’ll simply stick with my idiotic siblings.

𝚅𝚒𝚕: Shoenheit is quite talented, I enjoy his movies quite a lot. He always has a way to make the characters come to life, and as my brother’s girlfriend noted, he’s quite pretty.

𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚔: Hunt is, a lot, to say the least. I personally have no interest in the man, but my younger sister seems to find his company nice.

𝙸𝚍𝚒𝚊: Ah, my idiotic Cousin. Honestly the whole situation he made in night Raven college a few months back is just embarrassing.

𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚜: His highness is someone who I highly respect. Nothing more to say to be honest.

𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊: Ah, I’ve met him once, he seems…… interesting to say the least. My younger brother seems to like him though.

𝙽𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚎: He’s a bit too naive for me. Sees the world as black and white, not my favorite person, or even in the top ten to be honest.

⊱Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ⊰

Positive traits: Smart, intelligent, clever, wise, Responsible, Reliable, Brave, strong, Confident, Independent, Loyal, Dedicated, Hard-working, Careful, Ambitious, Organized, Mature, Trustworthy, Talented, gifted, Stable, Punctual, Self-confident, Witty, Cooperative.

Negative traits: rude, power-hungry, Argumentative, Bossy, Possessive, Jealous, envious, Arrogant, Dangerous, Cold, Cunning, Petty, Self interested.

Neutral traits: Quiet, Calm, Honest, Sarcastic, Antisocial, Strict, Stubborn, Reserved, Serious.

⊱Fᴜɴ Fᴀᴄᴛs⊰

Is the smartest one of her siblings and was supposed to skin four years in school but decided against it.

While she’s not a very feminine girl, she still likes dressing up with her sisters.

She’s seen as the level headed one of the family.

She love sports, but adores strategy games.

She won countless competitions, some are chess, boxing, martial arts and even fencing.

She has an owl familiar that’s always near, maybe not in sight but it’s there.

Is cousins with Idia, and lowkey is done with his shit.

Is the designated babysitter(with Cyrus)

And I’m not talking about babysitting her youngest sister, Xena, I’m talking about babysitting her other siblings, even the ones older then her.

Has tons of scars around her body.

Had a white tattoo that starts from her neck and ends at her back.

Does not get along with Lex’s girlfriend, Lillian.

But they have mutual respect with each other and she’ll help her out if she really needed it.

Her closet if filled with classy clothes and suits.

She shares a room with Selena that’s just fillies with closets. It just has their clothes shoes and bags.

She doesn’t go shopping, Cyrus and Lillian just buy her clothes she likes.

↗continuing this point, if she does do her own shopping, Eileen and Selena are shopping with her online.

Captain of RSA’s debate club.

Was supposed to join the spell drive team but decided against it.

Is extremely close to one of her cousins, and thinks he’s the biggest pain in her ass, lovingly.

Her favorite nrc student is Jamil, and she sympathizes with his situation.

Speaking of Jamil, he has the biggest crush on her ever.

She know this, but decides to act like she doesn’t know since she doesn’t like him like that(maybe a bit, but not enough for a relationship)

comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 likes do nothing. Seriously, don’t like, reblog.

Go check out the dorm made by @midnightmah07 and @viilpstick it’s super cool. And special thanks to Jorge Rivera-Herrans for Epic the musical cause I could not have figured most shit out without the playlist blasting in my ear😭

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #❦cece #twst x Greek mythology

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elejahfanfic · 2 years

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amelia x oliver_

@darknightfrombeyond

#amelia queen #oliver queen x oc #oliver queen #alternative universe #arrow oc #fd: arrowverse #time out #amy&oliver_a bit steamy

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celandeline · 3 months

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Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (32)

On the eleventh anniversary of Venetia’s death, I find myself back in England, with Saltburn in the distance.

The wind rips through my hair, but if anything, I’m grateful - it’s the only source of relief from the oppressing heat of the August sun beating down on me. The pros and cons of renting a convertible - no roof, no air conditioning. Farleigh sits in the passenger seat, a cigarette perched between his fingers as he rests his elbow on the door. He smiles when he catches my glance.

I refocus on the road ahead of us. The leather of the steering wheel is hot, and burns a bit when I shift my hands. The glint of the wedding band on my ring finger - still shiny and new - catches my eye for a moment, and a rush of giddiness fills me. Since the wedding, every time I’ve looked at it, I can’t help but smile - even though we’ve been living like we’re married for years.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years since Farleigh and I met. I can still remember the summer of 2007 like it was yesterday. Endless days by the lake, just lounging about in the grass, talking about everything and nothing all at once. That night we smoked on the roof. All the nights he would slip into my room to complain about Oliver. The first time we kissed - the first time we fucked. How things had taken a turn for the worse the very next day. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did that summer.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years - but at the same time it does. All the dots that connect us from then to now are lined up perfectly in my head. It started out rough - juggling my last year at NYU and teaching Farleigh how to be a normal person was hard, not to mention the part-time job I was working on top of it all. But after he’d gotten used to working, and started fiddling around with social media things had gotten easier. By the time I’d graduated, he was pretty much self-sufficient.

Since then, New York has swept the both of us up into her madness. For Farleigh, his social media presence lifted him back up into a social status he was familiar with, hanging out with nepo-babies and fallen-off child actors in the VIP sections of New York's hottest clubs. For a while, he was something of a club queen until he started leaning more into fashion, posting styling tips, high end hauls and purchasing that first sewing machine. God, that thing was loud. I don’t miss it - the one he has now is so much quieter. Fashion blogging turned into being invited to runway events to designing to having his collection featured in Vogue’s last issue. Now, he’s in high demand to style celebrities for red carpets.

I’m happy for him - really. It’s obvious that he loves his work, even if it does mean that our house is covered in fabric scraps. And that I have to go with him to fashion events - not really my scene, but it is fun to see pictures of us on E!News.

For me, it’s been objectively less exciting - but I wasn’t trying to climb my way back up the social ladder. Once I was done with NYU and had my journalism degree, it was tabloid work for a while - reporting on who Taylor Swift was dating or who Ariana Grande had been spotted with that week - until I had woven myself into the industry enough that I could network my way into a more respectable news source. I wrote for the New Yorker for a while, and then The New York Times, and now Time magazine itself. It’s a lot of traveling, but since Farleigh doesn’t work a regular 9-5 he can usually come with me (unless there’s some event), and he likes to. It ‘expands his horizons’ and ‘inspires him to create’ supposedly. I think he just doesn’t want to be home alone.

In all my traveling, I never thought I’d end up back here.

Saltburn glitters in the distance, the winding road leading up to the gates, growing ever closer as we cruise along. When we’d gotten the news that James was sick, I’d reached back out to Elspeth, sending well wishes from the both of us. On a whim, we’d sent them a wedding invitation too. I didn’t really expect anything to come from it - Farleigh was adamant that they would just ignore it, considering how things ended between them. And for a while, it had seemed like he was right - until a handwritten letter from Elspeth had showed up in our mailbox.

It was long winded - of course, it was from Elspeth - and apologetic, explaining how she couldn’t make the wedding because James had died, but insisting that we come back to Saltburn for our honeymoon. Something about it being where we met made her adamant there was no better place to spend the first couple of weeks as a married couple.

After talking it over, we decided to take her up on her offer.

Which is how we’re here, now, gliding down the road to Saltburn in a convertible, Iconapop’s I Love It blasting through the speakers. It feels like being twenty again - the summer sun beating down on my skin, the smell of cigarette smoke trailing from Farleigh’s fingertips, my hair fluttering out behind me as I drive too fast on purpose. I glance over at him - my husband - for a second, catching a glimpse of the way the sun paints him in luxurious gold. He’s gorgeous. He’s always been gorgeous.

Again he catches me looking. “You’re supposed to be driving.” He shouts over the wind and the music.

“I am!” I say. “It was two seconds-”

“Eyes on the road!” He ignores my protests, pointing his cigarette at me threateningly.

I roll my eyes. “Maybe if you were less distracting it wouldn’t be a problem.” I joke. “Stop being so pretty.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Eves.” He says, leaning over the center console to smack a kiss to the side of my forehead. Taking one hand off the wheel, I hold out two fingers for his cigarette. He places it between them, and I take a drag before handing it back to him.

God, it feels like being twenty again.

I miss her.

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

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silens-oro · 1 month

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Vicious

Daemon Targaryen x Targ!OFC Vaenya (Platonic)

All of my fics are 18+

Synopsis: Daemon has met his match in his niece Vaenya the Vicious -firstborn of the Targaryen/Hightower children. Vaenya has carved out a path of her own with a sword and her might, making a name for herself throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Fierce and not to be trifled with, Vaenya does not extend an olive branch when she could burn the entire tree down. Daemon comes to learn this very quickly.

**No incest**

Word Count: ~900

Warning: Talks of sexual situations, murder, gore. There also aren't any physical descriptors, but I made Vaenya an OC because she is a Targaryen.

AN: I haven't actually written anything in so long. This has been sitting in my drafts since January of LAST YEAR and I decided to go back and see what could be salvaged and reworked. This was fun to bring back to life. House of the Dragon requests are OPEN

Red Keep Day of the Final Supper

“Vaenya the Vicious,” Daemon stated as she entered the study, the door shutting softly behind her. “My how you’ve grown since we last met,” His eyes trailed up and down as she advanced towards him. There wasn’t much he could look at due to her trousers and jerkin over a long sleeved blouse. Vaenya knew he did this merely to rile her up.

“Keep your flattery for someone who gives a shit,” Vaenya stated gruffly with an eye roll. “I have no need for it.”

“You wound me,”

“I’d do worse if you weren’t a guest within this keep,” She warned with a glare. Daemon held his hands up in a mock showing of surrender. “Say what it is you wish to say, Uncle. If I were to waste my time, it surely would not be with you.”

“I’ve been graced with your sharp tongue and searing glare, Vaenya. What you see as a waste, I see as an opportunity.”

“Of course you do,” Vaenya rolled her eyes as she poured herself a chalice of wine.

“I merely wish to reconnect,” Vaenya shot the whole glass back in one gulp before she locked him with a look that stated ‘state your business’.

“Do not think that I know not of your true face, Uncle. I am -luckily- none of your wives, of which you’ve had many, through a poor match made or blinded by familial love; I see you for who you are,” Vaenya’s tone held boredom. Her uncle was ever the Cat and Mouse expert, always scheming and plotting just to sew the seeds of chaos. Vaenya was unshakable.

“If you believe Rhea held love for me, then you are mistaken,” He chuckled sardonically.

“Rhea did not know what you are capable of, and she met her end because of it,” Vaenya quipped. “It seems they all meet their end when they are tied to you, do they not?”

“A tragedy,” His expression said otherwise. “My true face, dearest niece -what is it?” Daemon approached her with calculated steps. He held the eyes of a predator; precise, unrelenting, deadly. It held little effect on her. “Please enlighten me,” It was a threat, yet Vaenya paid his tone no mind and gave him a very direct answer.

“That of a parasite, latching from host to host,” Vaenya spoke plainly. A malicious grin grew upon Daemon’s thin lips. “My father cannot shake you, regardless of how far he tucks you away within the realm, or elsewhere. Never too far out of sight, nor out of mind when it comes to you. Yet you always appeared back at his feet, attaching yourself like a leech to his flesh. He sees exactly what I do, Daemon. The only difference between he and I is that I carry no love for you.”

“Tis a shame,” Daemon gave you a mocking pout. “It does boggle one’s brain. You speak of my wives -former and current- yet you yourself have not taken a husband. If your rigidness is anything to go off of, I’d wager you’ve never felt the pleasure of a man’s cock.” The way he spoke would rattle the other Ladies of the Keep -her Queen Mother in particular. They’d all flush and stammer at such vulgarities. These were words Vaenya was not shy to, nor was she shy with the acts associated with them. Daemon would not get a rise out of her.

“I’ve seen how you’ve looked at me, Uncle; How you looked at me as a girl." The implication was laid out bare. "-how you still look at me with carnal hunger that you will never be able to satiate. Always so close, yet just far enough out of reach. Does it anger you that I never once looked your way?” Vaenya's boots clicked on the stone floor with each step she took towards Daemon. “That my father never gave you the opportunity you so desperately craved?” Vaenya could see irritation begin to creep into his features. “I know you tried.” She taunted. Vaenya always found his eyes on her in the training yard as she sparred with Sir Criston whenever Daemon visited the Red Keep the few times he did throughout her life with or without Rhaenyra by his side. She continued:

“I am curious though; when will you strike on Rhaenyra? Once her usefulness nears its end? Once you find another who will dote on you who has more to offer? Will she, too, be tragically ‘felled’ by her horse? Eaten by a dragon? Or, mayhaps, bludgeoned with a stone?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, sweet niece,” Daemon all but purred.

“And satisfaction brought it back.” Vaenya responded with a smirk. She turned to leave Daemon with a heavy sense of foreboding as she calmly walked to the heavy door. Turning back as she reached for the handle, Vaenya left Daemon with parting words:

“I dearly look forward to the day that I cleave your arrogant head from your shoulders with the might of Lazarus’ blade, dear Uncle.” Vaenya’s hand tapped the tip of Lazarus’ hilt at her hip. “Though you are not worthy of its bite. My true purpose in this life shall be concluded once your body exhales its final breath and the crows are pecking at your withered flesh left out to rot,"

Daemon’s serpent grin had fallen from his lips, the corners downturning ever so slightly.

“The nourishment you provide to the scavengers will be the only good you’ve brought to the realm in your treacherous life. I shall personally see to it that the maesters’ history books will be where you are forever more known as Daemon the Leech, first and last of his name.” With that Vaenya smiled and turned her back to Daemon -a sign of clear disrespect. "Be sure to get rest, Uncle. Dinner is to be stimulating, I'm quite sure." With that Vaenya left, letting the door slam closed behind her with purpose.

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