#the sheer contempt I felt in that moment

[fluorescentbrains]

for some reason it continues to shock me to my core every time I encounter a j*hnny d*pp stan

#another grad student I don’t really talk to at a party casually mentioned something disparaging about amber heard #the conversation moved on so quickly but if it hadn’t I might have taken it outside #the sheer contempt I felt in that moment #he’s made a couple of sexist remarks before which is why I don’t talk to him. god I hate him so. #d #anyway you ever meet a 6 ft musclebound asshole cracking misogynistic jokes and the chimp inside you is like. I think we can take him #antagonize a man twice your body weight do it now

[writeforfandoms]

Glitter and Gold

Find the CoD masterlist 

As the princess, you always knew you'd marry for power and politics. What you did not expect was to be married to the dragon.

My own take on dragon!Price because I love dragons and I love Price and I went a little feral. Sorry not sorry. 

Warnings: Swearing, political discussion (brief), mostly glossed over wedding ceremony, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, mention of pregnancy, brief violence (not towards reader), dragon!Price. 

Word count: 7.7k

You stood on your private balcony, torn between disbelief and anger. Not that you should have been surprised, really. 

Your father, the king, was a stubborn man. For as long as you could remember, he hadn't much liked either of the neighboring kingdoms, speaking of them with contempt. Your kingdom was the smallest of the three, but strategically placed, with access to the sea and rivers and mountains. Yours was a kingdom of natural wealth. 

But even so, you'd never have guessed that your father would go so far in his quest to spurn the other two kingdoms (and try to attract a more lucrative offer from a further away kingdom, undoubtedly) as to offer you to the dragon! 

The dragon lived just on the border of the kingdom, and had for centuries. He mostly kept to himself, only very rarely making an appearance when he deemed it necessary. You could remember the last time you'd seen him - you'd been much younger, staring up in awe at the massive form flying high above the capitol city. From the distance, it had been hard to tell what color he was, or how big he really was. 

And your father had offered your hand in marriage. To this dragon. 

You blew out a sigh and shook your head. It was unlikely the dragon would reply. This was just a political move. 

A breeze rustled your skirts, and you frowned a little. Actually, the breeze was picking up. Looking out over the city, you could see flags beginning to snap in the wind. 

Shouting drew your attention, and you looked down into the streets, only to see people clutching clothing and staring up at the sky. You followed their pointing and froze. 

A dragon was coming down from the mountains, heading straight for the city. Sunlight gleamed off him, all reddish-copper, and every beat of his wings sent wind gusting down to the city. Baskets fell, curtains whipped, and one or two people even fell from the force of the wind. 

Being elevated above much of the city was worse - you clung to the balcony railing to keep your footing, eyes narrowed against the sheer ferocity of the wind. 

You'd been wrong, you and your father both. The dragon was upset, and he was coming to punish you, to destroy your city for your father's arrogance–

The dragon was nearly to you now, so huge he eclipsed the sky, dark and foreboding. The dragon tipped his head, one jewel-bright eye staring down at you. Smoke plumed from his nostrils, thick and dark and completely obscuring the sky for the longest moments of your life as you waited for the fire and the screaming. 

But it never came. 

There was a thump almost directly in front of you, and the smoke cleared enough to show a man crouched, perched, on the balcony railing. Jewel-bright blue eyes held your gaze for a long moment before he blinked once. A hat was perched on his head, obscuring much of his hair, but he had a full beard in dark auburn, hints of gray peppering it. His clothes were sturdy but out of date. Those eyes drew you in again, too bright to ignore. 

"You must be my beautiful bride," he rumbled, low and rough as a rockslide. 

"Bride to be," you corrected him crisply, lifting your chin a little. Nothing about this made sense, so you may as well stand up for yourself and what you wanted. 

His lips quirked in amusement. "Bride to be," he agreed, gaze raking over you in a way that felt far more intimate than it actually was. A faint curl of smoke escaped from his nose when he breathed out. 

The door to your room burst open, you could hear it even from the balcony. "Princess!" Half a dozen guards trooped through, although really only one of them fit on the balcony with you and your draconic fiance. "Uh." 

"I suppose we'll need to talk to my father." You straightened your shoulders, looking at those blue eyes again. He was smirking now, apparently amused. But he hopped lightly down from the railing, nimble for a man of his size. And oh what size he had - easily taller than your father, with broad shoulders that spoke to his strength. 

“If you insist,” he agreed, motioning for you to go first. When you stepped ahead of him, he placed a proprietary hand at the small of your back, light but warm. The warmth seeped through your layers, too warm to be human. The little reminder sent a thrill down your spine. 

But it wasn’t fear. Not quite.

The guards all moved out of your way, and you didn’t even glance back to see if they were following. They were. 

This time of day, normally your father would be in talks with his advisors. But, given the very recent upset of having a dragon arrive in the city, it was possible he’d be in his receiving room instead. 

At least, you hoped he would be. 

The dragon-man kept up with you easily, long strides unhurried despite the pace you set. His hand never left you back, ensuring you stayed close to him. 

You snuck a glance at him only to find those blue eyes already focused on you. But you refused to duck your head, refused to look away, refused to be embarrassed. 

After all, if he was to be your husband, what was the harm in looking? 

One of the guards got ahead of you to pull open the door to the receiving room, and you swept in first. 

"Father," you greeted, finding him already standing, staring, a little pale. 

"Welcome," your father greeted, focused on the man next to you. "I wasn't expecting you to respond so quickly." 

The dragon's lips quirked in amusement. "I can see that." 

"Perhaps we should discuss the necessary arrangements privately." The king glanced at you, his two advisors already standing to leave. 

"No." The dragon didn't move, the one word short and sharp. Everyone froze. You barely dared to breathe. "She stays. It is her life, after all." 

Your father frowned, just for a moment. "If that is your wish." 

"It is." The dragon was calm, confident, unhurried. And his hand hadn't left your back.

The door closed softly after the advisors, leaving the three of you alone. 

"Well. I assume you're here to accept my offer." Your father didn't spare you a glance, instead focusing on your dragon. 

"Yes." He prompted you forward with gentle pressure at the small of your back. "I will take her as my bride." 

"Of course." Your father eyed him shrewdly, calculating. "I will need some time to arrange everything–" 

"Send it after us." The dragon shrugged, unconcerned. "We will depart shortly." 

You turned to look at him, frowning. "Without a wedding?"

He shifted with you, keeping his hand pressed to your back. "Do you need one?"

"Yes, I do." 

He huffed in soft amusement. "Very well, my bride." He tugged you closer, gently, coaxing. 

"It will take time to make such arrangements," your father started slowly, calculating. 

"You have three days." Your dragon was colder with him, less patient. 

"But–"

"Three days." His eyes narrowed a little, a wisp of dark smoke escaping with the words. 

Your father paused and swallowed. "It will be done," he agreed. 

And that? Seeing your father back down and bend to the dragon's will? That sent a thrill down your spine, made your pulse pick up. 

"Any other supplies needed will be sent after us." The dragon looked down at you again, his expression softening. "You will tell me if there is anything specific you need." 

You blinked at him but nodded. "I will," you agreed in a murmur. 

His lips twitched and he nodded. "Then we should have nothing else to discuss." 

The king stiffened a little but apparently decided it wasn't worth potentially angering the dragon, because he nodded. 

The dragon nudged you out ahead of him, hand still against your back. "Do you need to prepare?"

"I should," you agreed, looking at him. "But…"

"Yes?" He raised one eyebrow at you. 

"What can I call you?" You shifted slightly closer to him. "Since I am to be your wife." 

His lips twitched in that little smile again, private and pleased. "John." 

"John," you repeated. "Will I see you again before the wedding, John?"

"You will." He smirked, stopping when you did. "I'll see you soon." His hand finally left your back, leaving you almost cold, and one big finger tucked under your chin. Eyes wide, you tipped your chin up at his insistence, your gaze locked on his. He leaned down, sending your heart pounding. For a wild moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. 

But he simply nosed your cheek, gentle and warm. He stepped back, releasing you from the sheer pull of his gaze, and dipped his head to you in the only sign of respect you'd seen from him. 

Leaving you warm and flustered and chilled all at once, standing outside your rooms. 

The rest of the day and the next passed in near-frantic preparations. You directed some maids to pack up the things you decided you could not live without, and fortunately a dress had already been in the works. There was no way to get any other dignitaries or even leaders from the other towns in your kingdom. 

It was going to be an unconventional wedding, for an unconventional marriage. 

But you couldn't deny the stirrings of excitement in your veins. 

Especially after John came back to visit you. 

He found you outside in the gardens, walking slowly, letting the familiar paths help settle your mind. You didn’t even hear him approaching - one moment you were alone, and then he fell into step next to you, startling you. 

“Apologies, princess,” he murmured with a smirk. 

You huffed. “You’re quiet,” you observed, glancing at him. “I’m surprised.” 

He shrugged. “Habit,” was all he said on that. He reached up to adjust his odd hat, gaze interested as he looked around the garden. “Have to admit mine doesn’t look this good.”

“You have a garden?” The thought was so surprising that you stopped, blinking up at him. 

“A garden was left behind,” he corrected gently. His hand landed at the small of your back again, gently pushing you into walking. “I don’t do much to maintain it.”

“Hmm.” You eyed him curiously. “Where do you live?” 

He glanced down at you, openly amused. “You’ll find out,” he murmured. 

“Do you live alone?” Curiosity had reared its head now, refusing to relent until you had at least a few answers. He hadn’t gotten mad at you yet, after all. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

That got him to pause for a moment, considering how to answer you, even as he kept walking. “Never taken a mate,” he said finally. His teeth flashed briefly in a grin. “Never been offered a bride, either.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Then I suppose this will be something new for the both of us.”

“Suppose it will.” His fingers flexed against your back before he tugged you closer, close enough to feel the heat pouring from him, the scent of smoke seemingly a permanent fixture around him. “And what does my princess think of marrying a dragon?” 

You warmed at the easy, possessive way he referred to you. “I think I will not be bored with you.” You tipped your head, playful but still watching. 

He chuckled, rumbling and delicious. “No,” he agreed, his voice even lower than normal. “You won’t.” 

The pair of you paused near one edge of the garden, although you couldn’t look away from him. He wasn’t upset with your testing - if anything, he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were. 

You would need to go, and soon, but first, one more thing… 

“You know,” you started, casual, watching him intently, “I have heard a few rumors about dragons.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow lifted in clear invitation to keep going. 

“As much as I don’t think this one is accurate, I still feel I should tell you…” You risked taking one step closer to him, trying to hide your humor. “Just so you know… If what I heard is true… If you eat me, I will give you indigestion.” 

He blinked at you, eyes wide, apparently stunned with your daring. And then he tipped his head back to laugh, loud and unrestrained, baring the long line of his throat to you. 

Oh, that was an absolutely lovely sound. You could get addicted to that sound far too easily. 

“You are a feisty one,” he murmured, finally looking at you again with a smirk. “Good.” He looked back towards the castle, eyes narrowing, before he huffed. Smoke plumed out of his mouth with the exhale, thick and dark. “You need to return before they come searching for you.” 

“I suppose so.” You couldn’t hear anything, but perhaps his hearing was better than yours. It wouldn’t truly surprise you. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, princess.” He leaned in again, slowly but surely, his hand big and warm at your waist. But this time, his lips brushed your cheek, so light you could just feel the touch. 

And then he was gone, turning and walking away from you. 

The remaining time passed too fast until you found yourself at the ceremony. Since everything had been rushed, the ceremony had been opened to the city - people were gathered outside the pavilion, jostling and shifting to get a better view.

Not necessarily of you. But of your soon-to-be-husband.

John stood tall, shoulders straight, hat gone to show the horns arching from his head. Those did make you blink, at least until those blue eyes met yours again. Then everything else just… faded into the background. The crowd didn’t matter. Your family didn’t matter. Even the droning of the priest didn’t matter.

All that mattered were those blue, blue eyes. 

The ceremony finished, and you had to blink yourself back to the present. Right. You still had to sit through the rest of the celebration. 

Except John took your hand, tugging you closer to him. You blinked up at him, caught off-guard. 

“Time to go,” he murmured, ignoring everyone else as he began to walk. 

“Already?” You debated seeing if you could get him to relent to you again, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

“I’ve already waited three days for you,” he rumbled, amused. “Got everything ready for you before I came to get you.”

And that? The knowledge that he’d not just received the offer and immediately come, but had put thought into this? Had something prepared for you? That melted you, just a little, sent your heart thudding into your ribs. 

“How are we getting there?” You thought that was a fair question, once again focused on him to the exclusion of the rest of the world. Vaguely, you noted people getting out of his way, well-wishes yelled to you both. But you ignored the lot of it.

The smile he slanted at you was amused and more or less hidden by his beard. “You’ll see,” was all he offered, taking the fastest route out of the city. You stumbled once, not exactly attired for a quick walk through the city. A moment later you were scooped up in his arms, held securely there. Your gasp made him smile. 

“You don’t have to–” you started to say, uncertain, hands gripping his shirt. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, just for you. “You’re fine.” 

You’d only known him for days, and yet you believed him. You didn’t protest again, simply curling further into him. The deep, pleased hum from him was something you felt more than heard.

He didn’t stop until you were outside the city, the walls well behind you before he finally set you on your feet. 

“Now you’ll see how we’re getting home.” He grinned briefly, taking a few big steps back, away from you. You blinked, curiosity overpowering anything else, and watched him. He breathed out smoke and there was a low sound, like distant thunder. Suddenly pressure in the air made you take a half-step back, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head briefly to clear it. 

A low rumble drew your gaze back to where John had been. The smoke was clearing slowly, but enough that you could see the outline of something much, much bigger. Your heart slammed against your ribs and you went very still, caught in the ages-old terror of a predator much bigger than you. 

The dragon moved slowly, making a low noise almost like a purr except much deeper. His head snaked forward, long neck straining a little, before halting right in front of you. His head was bigger than you were tall, thick horns curving back over his head. But his eyes were still that same jewel-bright blue. 

"John?" Your fingers trembled as you held out one hand, still moving so slowly. 

Those big, bright eyes blinked slowly and he pushed his snout into your fingers, more gently than you would have thought him capable. Copper-red scales were warm and smooth to your touch, and touch you did. Your fingers started on his snout but moved up until you were on your tiptoes to explore, curiosity quickly overriding your fear. The ridges above his eyes were a little tougher, but he leaned into the touch when you scratched gently, and something in you melted. 

"You're not so scary," you teased him gently, scratching harder at his eye ridges to watch his eyes close in clear enjoyment. "Are you?" 

He huffed, smoke blowing out his nostrils, but you just laughed. 

"Okay. How are we…?" You trailed off, uncertain how to ask the rest of the question. 

He nudged you very gently with his snout, pushing you towards his shoulders. There was a spot you could just see, at the end of his neck before his wings, where you could hold on. 

It would not be the most dignified way to travel, but… who was there to judge you anymore? Who would even dare? 

Your lips stretched into a slow grin at the realization, heart fluttering. You had a dragon for a husband. Nobody would dare to mock you now!

He huffed again, nudging you gently. You patted his nose. 

"Yes, alright, let me figure out how to get up there." You eyed the vast expanse of scales and muscle in front of you. There were, of course, no clear handholds, or places to put your feet. 

You did shriek, just a little, when he suddenly picked you up by the back of your dress, teeth closed very carefully around fabric only, and deposited you into place. 

One new observation: your husband was impatient. Or at least not currently willing to indulge your curiosity. You pouted.

Until he stood up, the sudden motion making you cling to his scales, hunkering down. He rumbled again, the noise vibrating through his chest and straight into you, at once comforting and electrifying. 

That was all the warning you got before he started moving, loping several strides until his wings snapped out. One flap of those great wings nearly unseated you, and you were quick to adjust your seat and grip before he beat his wings again, and you two were in the air. 

Wind whipped at your hair and clothes, and it took you a few minutes to find a comfortable place to sit and cling to him securely. You made the mistake of looking down only once, the trees far below you bending and swaying with the force of his passage. A little sick now, you closed your eyes tightly and just hung on tight. 

You weren't sure how long the two of you traveled. Longer than you liked, certainly. Much shorter than it would have taken on foot, or even on horseback. 

The sun was still bright out when he flew lower, aiming for the side of a mountain. You squinted, trying to see where he was going. But the wind was too strong and he was going too fast. 

The sun was suddenly gone and you gasped, blinking rapidly, even as he slowed and then landed more delicately than you would have thought. 

Finally giving you a chance to look around. 

The cavern was big, easily big enough for him to fly into or out of, and fairly dark. You tipped your head back, looking up at the rough ceiling above, awed. 

A soft grumble from the dragon made you blink and look back at him to find his head turned to look at you. One big eye blinked, and he slowly lowered himself all the way to the ground. 

Guess it was time to get down. 

Very carefully, you slid down his shoulder until your feet touched the floor. But your first step was wobbly and your knees nearly gave out under you. But you remained upright, more or less, until you could stagger against one wall of the cavern. 

The air around you shivered and shifted again, and a moment later you heard footsteps. 

"Easy, princess," he murmured, voice even raspier than normal. "You're alright."

"I'm fine," you agreed, still a little shaky. "Just… not accustomed. That's all." 

Big warm hands settled at your waist, holding you steady. "Hmm. Your shoes are no good down here. I'll have to fix that." His hands left you for a moment before he was scooping you up into his arms again. 

"I could manage," you protested gently, though your hands were already curling into him. "You've already carried me a lot." 

"You're fine," he insisted, holding you a little tighter. "I've got you." 

You hummed and relaxed into him, enjoying the warmth after the chill of the flight here. You did hold a little tighter to him as the light all but vanished as he walked down a hallway. 

"Almost there," he assured you, rumbling soothingly. 

You swallowed but nodded once, waiting a little anxiously for the light to return. 

Which it did with grandeur. 

You gasped as John turned a corner, light streaming down from above, tinged gold as it bounced off strategically-placed mirrors and shields of gold. The entire space was large, and somewhat open around what you could only assume was his hoard. Gold and gems piled up in the center of the room, jewelry spilling out onto the floor. A goblet lay on its side on the floor, little red gems set into the precious metal. 

"Welcome to my hoard," John rumbled, walking closer, still not letting you down. "You will have plenty of time to explore to your heart's content, princess. You should see this first." 

You blinked, shaking yourself a little out of the momentary daze, and looked up at him. "Oh?" 

He merely hummed, walking around the long side of the hoard to the back. You could see another hallway leading to a set of stairs, but your attention was quickly diverted. 

Tucked between the back of the hoard and the back wall was, for lack of better term, a nest. A long piece of blue fabric had been stretched over the top to allow for some privacy, while pillows and blankets had been piled into a rough circle. 

"Oh." Your eyes went wide as you examined the space, gaze darting everywhere. "Is this…?"

"For you," John agreed, setting you on your feet. 

You stepped forward slowly, pausing at the edge of the blanket nest before you knelt down to feel it. It was softer than you'd expected, well cushioned. You could sleep here easily. Surprised and undeniably touched by the thoughtful gesture, you turned to him with a smile. 

"This is amazing," you murmured. "Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure." He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Have to keep my princess comfortable, hm?" 

You warmed a little at the possessiveness in his voice but stood again. "Show me around?" 

His hand settled at your back again, his warmth welcome now in the cooler air of the cavern. He didn't take you all the way around the hoard, saying you'd have plenty of time to explore that on your own. Instead he took you up the stairs, lighting a torch to carry along with you two. 

The stairway opened up into another corridor, this one relatively short. An open doorway showed a very old-fashioned kitchen, quiet and empty now. Beyond that were the pantries and cold larder, also all empty. 

Another set of stairs brought you up to a servants corridor and then to a formal dining room. The furniture was mostly gone, although the table remained. But the windows remained, mostly intact, and your lips parted in surprise. 

"Where…?" You couldn't quite finish your question, gaze darting around, steps slowed to almost nothing. 

"My home." John puffed up a little in obvious pride at your reaction, gently tugging you forward. "You will see." 

You allowed him to lead you forward, craning your head to try to see everything at once. Although it was old and clearly much depleted, it was easy to see the once-grandeur of this place. Mosaics still remained on the floor, one wall although cracked still showed a mural: a mountain towered over a castle, a fertile valley stretching below. 

"Oh." You blinked at the mural. "Oh, this is the old castle, the abandoned one." 

"Been abandoned for a long time," John agreed, coming up behind you to rest both hands at your waist. "Before I moved in, certainly." 

"And how long ago was that?" You tipped your head a little to one side, still drinking in the mural. 

"A long time ago." His voice rumbled through you, making you shiver. 

"I'm surprised it's still standing." You leaned back, just a little, into his warmth. 

"Not all of it does," he murmured, lowering his head to speak close to your ear. "Parts of the castle have crumbled, and parts of it are unsafe. But some of it remains intact. I have not had much use for it, but perhaps you would." 

"I just might." You smiled, tilting your head back to look up at the ceiling, still in good repair here. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," he agreed. 

You spent a good little while exploring with him. John was never more than a few steps behind you, letting you lead but always warning you if you got too close to anywhere potentially dangerous. It was, actually, quite a lot of fun. These ruins hadn't been inhabited for a long time, John excepted. And you suspected he didn't spend a lot of time up here. 

This was not how you'd expected to spend your first day as a married woman, but you were not going to complain. 

Eventually, though, the sun dropped and the temperature with it, leaving you fighting off the chill in the air unsuccessfully. John huffed softly and gathered you in close, his warmth absolutely delightful now. 

"Need to get you somewhere warm again," he murmured, lips pressing briefly to the shell of your ear. 

"I can walk," you insisted. 

"Very well, my princess." The amusement was clear in his tone, but he let you walk back through the castle and down the stairs back to the hoard. And, more importantly, to your nice warm nest. 

You paused, though, glancing at him. Normally this first night was… more than simply sleeping. 

He didn't seem to notice your trepidation, instead stepping aside and over to a small goblet set aside from the rest. You watched him curiously as he pulled a dagger from the same short table the goblet rested on. Before you could ask what he intended to do, he sliced the end of one of his fingers, merely grimacing. 

"What…?" You gasped, watching with wide eyes as blood welled and dropped slowly into the goblet. 

"You will need this." Sharp eyes glanced at you and away again. "This will help to keep you warm, as well as to protect you."

"Protect me?" You took a single step closer to him. "From what?" 

"It gets much colder here than you are used to." John breathed in slowly, gaze fixed on yours. "It will also protect you from me. I run too hot to couple with a human more than once." 

You warmed but refused to look away from him. "I see." 

He looked away first, looking down into the goblet and wrapping a spare piece of fabric around his finger. "Drink." 

The goblet was warm to the touch and you peered into it, a little apprehensive. The blood inside was dark with a shimmer, almost, on top, a shifting slide of colors that changed as you tilted the cup back and forth gently. 

Well. You were already here, had already done this much. You just had to trust that he wasn't trying to hurt you. 

You tipped the goblet back, drinking the contents down in one go. 

It was warm, just the right side of hot. Not unlike a good cup of tea on a chilly evening, only the flavor was all wrong. Iron and something burnt and metal. You swallowed, shivering briefly, the warmth traveling down to your stomach. But it didn't stop there, continuing all the way to your extremities until you were warm, too warm, fever warm. Shaking hands went for your dress to start getting your layers off - you were suffocating in them. 

"Easy," John rumbled, catching your hands and pulling you in close. Oddly enough, the warmth of him was soothing rather than too much, especially coupled with the strong hug. "You're alright, princess. Give it a minute, let it settle." 

"What–?" You gasped at another wave of warmth pulsing through you, your hands clamping tight around his shirt. 

"Shh, love." Gentle lips pressed to your forehead. "It will pass." 

You made a very undignified noise, trembling through the heat until it ebbed. Then you rested against him, still trembling but steadier. 

"Alright?" John tipped your head up gently, fingers gentle against your skin. 

"I… think so." You blinked at him, just now aware of the wetness on your eyelashes. "That was…"

"Necessary." He pressed another kiss to your forehead. He still felt warm to you, but not quite as warm. "You did very well." 

You blinked up at him, lifting one shaky hand to wipe away the wetness at your eyes, but he beat you to it. Gentle fingers wiped your cheeks and under your eyes, and he hummed softly. 

"You should sleep now," he murmured. "Rest will help you to get back to normal." 

"I'm alright." You frowned a little, trying to will yourself into being alright. Very rarely had you been so physically affected by something. 

"You will be in the morning." His lips quirked in amusement at your stubbornness. "Let me help you, princess." 

You huffed but gave in, still feeling just off kilter enough to not argue further. John helped you out of your gown all the way down to your slip, hands slow and steady over newly-bared skin. 

But that was all he did before he helped you settle into the nest. 

"Where are you sleeping?" You asked, already getting comfortable, eyelids heavy now that you were horizontal. 

"I'll join you later," he murmured. "You just sleep." 

You huffed a little complaint but, soon enough, your eyelids closed. 

Rather to your surprise, John didn't do more than help you dress or undress for three days. His touches lingered, warm and both soothing and exciting, but he didn't ask for more than that. He seemed happy enough to let you explore, following you into and around the castle and onto the grounds. 

Finally, though, you caught his hands as he was undoing the laces to your dress. (A new one today, one that had simply appeared next to your bed that morning with a smug-looking John watching you subtly.) 

"Something the matter?" John asked, low and gentle, holding quite still. 

"Not exactly," you hedged. "I just… you did mention… and we are married…" You looked down, heat rushing to your cheeks. It's not like you had a lot of experience with asking for this kind of thing. 

He chuckled, moving closer until you could feel him pressed up against your back. "Yes, princess?"

You puffed out your cheeks, burning, and almost none of it had to do with his warmth. "I'd like you to… to touch me." 

"I can do that." He bent his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. At your shiver, he pulled his hands from under yours and finished unlacing your dress, letting it pool around your feet. "How much does my princess want to be touched?" 

"Enough to ask for it." You tipped your head to give him better access, hands curling and uncurling to release some of your nervous energy. 

"Ask nicely, then." Teeth a little too sharp to be human nipped your ear, and you gasped. 

"P-please."

"Mmm, good girl." He rewarded you with another kiss to your neck. 

He moved the two of you easily, lowering you into the nest and settling above you to kiss you, his hands working up under your remaining layers to palm your bare thighs. His eyes, when he pulled back enough to look at you, were nearly black with desire. 

"Do you have any idea how good you look?" He asked in a low growl, hands squeezing your thighs. "Dressed in things I brought you, in a nest I made for you?" 

You gasped at the sheer possessiveness in his voice, shivering once. “John…” 

He licked his lips before leaning down to kiss you again, taking his time, discovering exactly what you liked. He didn’t stop until you were panting, hands fisted in his shirt. 

But you were still surprised when he ripped the last layer of clothes, sharp nails making short work of the fabric and leaving shreds on the nest around you. Your eyes went wide at how easy it was for him, at the strength he’d been holding back. 

And he had been holding back you realized, watching him look over all the newly exposed skin with something almost feral in his gaze. He’d been holding back for you, giving you time. 

All thoughts flew from your mind when he dipped his head, lips landing in the divot of your collarbone, hands grasping your hips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the thundering of your pulse. “And mine.” His lips traveled down your body, slow but determined. When your hands tugged in his shirt from the grip you still held, he huffed a warm breath against the skin of your navel. But he was quick to pull his shirt off, gently taking your hands and guiding them to his head. “Hold on to me, love.” 

You licked your lips, one hand threading into the thick mass of his hair, the other carefully exploring one of his horns. 

All thoughts of exploring flew from your head with the first kiss he placed to your inner thigh. 

He moved slowly but steadily, his tongue exploring the space between your thighs. Every gasp, every whimper, every moan that escaped your lips urged him on, his tongue sweeping broadly through your wetness. Warmth pooled low in your belly, tension coiling through your muscles. 

John pulled his head back and you whimpered, lifting your head to look down at him. He grinned, teeth just a little too sharp to be human, wetness smeared across his lips and cheeks and beard. 

“Tell me if anything hurts, love,” he murmured, low but commanding. 

“I will,” you managed, a little surprised you got words out and not just noises. 

With a satisfied noise of his own, John dove back in. But a finger slid into you slowly, the intrusion odd but not unwelcome. You couldn’t resist wiggling your hips. 

Until his arm banded over your hips, holding you down. 

“John–” Your fingers tightened, desperate for something solid to hold onto. 

He hummed softly, the sensation shocking and far too good. The noise you made would have embarrassed you if you had any space to think about it, but he must have liked it, because he growled long and low. 

The coil in your gut snapped and you shouted as pleasure coursed through you, intense and unrelenting for long moments. Until it ebbed and you relaxed, panting, eyes wide. 

“Still with me?” John had shifted up a bit, his chin resting on your hipbone, eyes fixed on your face.

You nodded, slow and languid, eyes fixed on him. "Mmhm." 

"Good." He pressed a kiss to the skin of your hip before nipping gently, playfully. "Ready for more?"

You swallowed but nodded, loosening your grip on his hair. He moved up your body slowly, taking his time to place kisses and gentle nips across your skin. 

"Tell me if it hurts," he murmured to you, fingers still in you starting to rock again, gentle but insistent. Your eyes fluttered as the warmth in you started up again, slow and steadily building. 

"John." You tipped your head to kiss him again, fingers exploring the breadth of his shoulders. It wasn't long until you were moving under him, hips rocking to meet his fingers, your own fingers holding tight to his shoulders. He breathed out against your neck, damp and hot. 

"Alright, princess." He pulled his fingers from you, ignoring your little whine. "We'll go slow, hm?" 

You didn't understand for a moment, until you felt the thick of him press against you. You breathed in deeply, watching his face. His brow furrowed a little as he started to press in, taking his time as promised, until you had to toss your head back against the pillows with a whimper. 

"Alright?" He didn't move, holding himself still, holding back. Again. For you. 

"Yes," you gasped, the fullness distracting but undeniably pleasant. "More, please–" 

He groaned, one hand clamping over your hip, fingers smearing wetness across your skin. His movements started slow, cautious, until you arched up into him and nearly begged for more. Then he moved faster, that delicious feeling of fullness near-addicting as pleasure coiled. 

The heat of him pressed into your skin was more than you'd expected, only heating further as he moved. You quickly understood why he'd made you drink a few days ago - the heat would have been uncomfortable, perhaps unbearable, before. 

But now it was all part of this curling pleasure, higher and hotter with every stroke. 

"Come for me, my princess," he growled into your ear, teeth sharp against your skin. "Give it to me. One more, give it to me." 

Those sharp teeth bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you cried out wordlessly as your pleasure crested and broke. His low growl vibrated against your skin, your chest, even in the deepest parts of you, and you writhed underneath him. 

His teeth didn't leave your skin as he thrust a few more times into you and stilled. Heat settled in you, just on the edge of too hot. You gasped, unsure if you wanted to get away from it or not. 

"Hush, love." His voice was still ragged but calmer, and he pressed soothing kisses to your skin, even as he kept himself firmly inside of you, keeping that heat trapped in you. "Easy." 

"What…?" You blinked slowly, hands slow as they traced his shoulders. 

"Just relax," he rumbled, voice dropping to a soothing rumble. "Relax for me, my princess." His hands smoothed up your sides, slow and firm. 

You relaxed, lulled by his voice and his touches. Eventually, the near-burning heat in you settled back to something easier, leaving you pleasantly tired. 

"Ready to sleep?" He kept his voice quiet and low, one hand reaching up slowly to smooth over your brow. 

"Mmhm." You blinked slowly, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

"Sleep, then." He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. That pleased little smile was the last thing you registered before you drifted to sleep. 

The two of you settled into a routine after that. You got to go anywhere you wanted. John brought you anything you desired (and then some). It was not the life you'd expected, growing up, but it was better, because your choices were your own. If you ever said no, John respected it. 

Things were close to excellent.

A year had passed before you knew it, your belly slowly growing round with the child growing within you. John had started hovering more as you showed, occasionally refusing to even leave your side. (He was just a little overbearing but you knew he meant well.) 

One afternoon, he stopped you from leaving the treasury and stalked off, anger rolling from him. Curious and refusing to be left out, you followed. 

John stalked out of the long entrance tunnel, plumes of smoke billowing out behind him. Well, whatever had happened, he was very mad. 

It didn't take you long to figure out why. 

John emerged into the bright daylight and moved silently down the hill a little ways. You barely had time to catch up to him, hand cradled protectively over your belly, when John lunged and tackled something. 

No. Someone. Someone who shouted in surprise, sword falling to the grass at his feet. Dark-skinned hands rose to grasp and claw at John's forearm as John lifted the intruder off his feet and into the air. 

"I told you to stay inside." John didn't raise his voice, because he never raised his voice at you. But he was displeased. 

"I was curious." You took two slow steps closer, eyeing the intruder. "Why did you come here?" 

The intruder’s gaze flicked from John to you and back, his brow furrowing. His voice was tight when he finally asked, “Are you the princess?”

“That’s me,” you agreed, amused, lifting your chin. “And?” 

“I, um.” He paused, trying to suck in a breath and coughing a little. 

“John.” 

Your dragon growled, low and displeased, but allowed the intruder’s feet to touch the ground again. He did not let the man go. 

“I heard stories,” the man said, glancing between the two of you again. “That a dragon stole a princess, that she needed rescuing.”

“Stole?” Both your eyebrows flew up. “Well. Someone is lying to you all, because I married him.” You finally stepped close enough to put a gentle hand on John’s back. 

“...What?” The poor man looked a bit gobsmacked now. 

“Who told you I stole her?” John sounded a little less furious, which was a good thing as far as you were concerned. 

The man faltered. “I mean, no one in particular, just, there were stories going ‘round…” He shrugged. 

You tipped your head, looking at him. He didn’t look like someone from your city, and if he had been, he’d have remembered the wedding. (You were quite sure that people still told stories of the day a dragon had come down from the sky to marry their princess.) So, he was either from another town in your kingdom, or from another kingdom entirely. “Why did you come here?” 

“I told you–” he started, confused. 

“No, I meant you. Why did you come?” You nudged the sword on the ground, taking a closer look at it. It was old, the edges not sharpened properly. Not the sword of a current knight, certainly. 

He paused at that, jaw clenching, fingers still curled around your dragon’s forearm. Then he sighed softly. “Don’t have anything left, figured I’d try.” 

“John.” You turned your gaze on your dragon.

“No,” was his instant retort. 

“John.” You stepped closer, pressing up against his side, looking up at him hopefully. 

John lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl, blowing out some smoke at the intruder, who made a face and tried valiantly not to cough. You ignored the little fit of temper. 

“He’s not even a knight,” you murmured. “He was just trying to help.” 

“And if I let him go, how many more will follow?” John asked, low and vicious. “Hm? You are mine. I will not allow them to hurt you.” 

“So let him stay here.” You shrugged.

“What?” John looked down at you, eyes wide.

“What?” the intruder choked out too, also staring at you.

“You know we could use the help, and I wouldn’t mind the company.” You batted your eyelashes at John. “And that way you’ll know I’m not alone when you have to go do your dragon stuff.”

John looked torn. He was loathe to deny you anything, something you knew and shamelessly took advantage of. He just needed a little nudge. 

“What did you do, before you decided to come here?” You looked at the intruder. 

“I was a baker,” he admitted slowly. 

“Oh, excellent,” you sighed with real pleasure. You’d been missing fresh bread. 

John’s shoulders slumped, and you hid your smile. “You have a choice,” he growled at the baker. “You can stay and follow my rules, or I can drop you in the ocean.”

“I’ll stay,” the baker was quick to agree, finally releasing John’s forearm to put his hands out at his sides. 

John finally released him, though he still looked grumpy. You ignored that, smiling and introducing yourself properly. 

“I’m Kyle,” he said, his smile small but warm with gratitude. “Kyle Garrick.”

“Well, Kyle Garrick, allow me to show you around.” You tucked your arm through John’s, gently tugging until he allowed himself to be led back inside. Kyle fell into step on your other side, though he kept a bit of respectful distance. 

Oh yes. You wouldn’t trade this life for anything. 

#dragon!price #glitter and gold #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

[ladystarksneedle]

In attendance

Summary: A lady at court finds herself in a predicament as she's called upon by the Prince one evening.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: suggestive themes

Next>

"The Prince has requested your presence in his chambers, my lady."

She looked up from her needlework in attendance, as the ladies around her watched in bewilderment and thinly veiled contempt. She knew they whispered insidious tales in her absence, wishing to further tarnish her reputation, already hanging by a thread. The needle in her hand felt heavy as she placed it down and followed the guard out the door. She could hear their chatter well before she'd crossed the threshold.

It was a strange arrangement she'd happened upon with him, something she'd never wished to enter into the first place. He'd been nothing but courteous upon their arrival in the capital, as was expected of him. Her father had brought her with him to attend to business with the other neighboring lords, hoping to present her to the court as well, having reached the age of eligibility to be courted. It was by sheer luck she'd been noticed by the Queen, something out of one of those bedtime tales she used to read as a child. Clad in green from head to toe, she had addressed them with a solemn curiosity, her gaze lingering a bit longer on her. She'd curtsied deeply in response, humbled by the attention. Their introduction, albeit short, was followed by an invite to the royal chambers in quick succession. Her presence at court had been noticed. The Queen had apparently been impressed by the manner in which she had conducted herself and wished for her to be a companion to her daughter, the Princess Helaena. Whether it was a political maneuver to strategically gain their family's alliance or an altruistic offer on her behalf, she had accepted readily, not that there was ever a true choice offered to her in the matter. Her fate was decided the moment she stepped through those doors much like when she stepped through the ones ahead. 

He sat in his usual place, staring deeply into the fireplace, drumming his fingers on the armrest near him. To an onlooker he'd cut an imposing figure, calm and fierce. She'd come to know him far better given the short duration of their acquaintance.

"What took you so long", he asked, his cool voice cutting through the silence.

"Their gossip ran late today. It is rumored Lady Blount has found herself in a thorny predicament, one she can no longer drink her way out of"

"Hmm, how she found herself in that position begs the question in the first place. That woman is too insufferable to be looked at, let alone bedded."

"Oh hush, she isn't that displeasing."

"I have one eye and I'd rather gouge it out than suffer her presence"

She stalled sorting the supplies in her hand as she gazed at him in shock. He merely cocked his head in response, raising his eyebrow in question, eliciting a giggle from her.

"Does it bother you that much today, you seem fussier than usual."

"I am not fussy", he grumbled "I simply speak the truth and you are late."

"I told you I got held up, I tried to escape them earlier but I must keep up appearances"

"That is none of my concern"

"I thought my concerns warranted yours too" she whispered sitting on the armchair near him.

"Not ones as trivial as these."

She leaned over him silently deciding to drop the matter as she nodded her head gesturing to him. He removed his eyepatch and placed his hair to the side as she leaned over him, careful not to apply too much pressure as she lathered the salve in her hands generously across his wound.

"Do not put stock in the opinions of sheep. They merely bray and bleat wherever the grass grows fresh. They'll feast on a new rumor, come morrow."

"They seek to malign me. I've heard them when they think I'm not listening. It is only a matter of time before the news reaches my father."

"It shall not. I'll have their tongues removed before it does."

"You'd cut out a dozen tongues?"

"I'd mute the entire capital if it meant you'd stop fretting" he whispered, half in annoyance and half in an almost misplaced reverence.

She smiled despite herself as she continued cleaning and dressing his angry wound.

"That would leave us in quite a fix, you're hardly the conversationalist my prince, I'd be bored soon enough"

"I do not recall needing only my mouth to please you, my lady"

"Ah but it is your best asset"

"I thought my fingers sufficed," he replied with a smirk.

"Oh they do, but I'd prefer your pretty mouth with it" she replied cheekily as he winced. The wound near his cheek was deeper than the rest, running across his face and also the most sensitive.

"My apologies. It is almost over"

He hummed in response, closing his good eye and leaning back.

She continued to work in silence, interrupted only by the sound of the flames crackling in the hearth ahead.

"Sing to me" he whispered as she reached for another vial in between.

"You wouldn't like it"

"That is not what I asked"

"And what shall I sing about, Lady Blount and her permanent entanglement"

"Would a mocking tribute suffice for the Prince you serve"

"The Prince I serve would rather prefer it" she smiled looking up at him. 

With his eye closed and hair swept to the side he looked almost at peace as he nodded in response. Even the darkened socket facing her seemed less angry at the moment. She wondered how she'd managed to warm her way to the man before her, cold and ethereal, beautiful yet devastating. The words she sang for him rang with admiration despite the jests they held. The corner of his mouth twitched up in response and she knew then, for all the insults flung behind her back, for every blackened mark tarnishing her standing at court, there wasn't a moment where she'd ever wish to leave. 

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond

#house of the dragon #zae's fics #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond fics #secrets of the keep #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[bakananya]

Not well written, but the idea was too interesting to just not write it down. I will prolly write a fic on ao3 with better writing, this is just to put the idea out there so I dont forget about it. Just an enemies to lovers Azriel x oc or azriel x reader idea I had, with a lot of random background Idea I had on the character. Its angsty, and not the best meet cute but you know, I got the idea from a dream after I fell asleep listening to look what you made me, I did something bad, you should see me in a crown and therefore I am on loop. Good dream tbh. Anyway enjoy!

"What do you want from me, Shadowsinger?" She spat out, her hatred for his kind evident in her tone.

He tilts his head to the side again, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He walked closer to her, his footsteps silent. "Nothing much, just curious as to why a young woman with no records of her existence is going out raiding, massacring and making so much chaos at illyrian camps?"

"They deserved it." She said quietly, but firmly. "If you're here for the women and their kids that are missing, they don't want to be found. They are safe, fed, comfortable and for the first time in their miserable lives, happy." She held her head high at the words.

"That did not answer my question. Why is a young girl such as yourself, carrying out such planned raids and missions? It can't possibly be to no end? What is your purpose?" He paused, giving her a moment to answer, but continued when she didn't. "You have caused quite the ruckus, you know? Become quite a threat." He said again, face still unreadable as he maintains the distance, knowing she could winnow away at any moment, in the cold and chilly mountains. It took months for him to track her once, he could not afford to lose her now.

"I will ask you again, Shadowsinger, what do you want?" She snarled.

"I am just trying to understand why you think a young girl like you is fit to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Justice is not something just anyone has the right to bestow." His words were veiled in amusement, as if all of her carefully plotted plans and raids were temper tantrums of a child, and not a movement in and of itself.

Her eyes glowed as her anger takes over and her magic her magic seeps out from her, uncontrolled and wild. The sheer strength of it had his amusement dying down into a look of wariness. "Do you want to know, Shadowsinger? You find it so amusing, don't you?"

He stares at her for a minute, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he realized her weakness.

Her wrath.

"It seems I struck a cord. I do not find it amusing, but rather pitiful, you are so young, with so much anger inside you. What a waste."

She stepped closer, her magic thrumming in the ground, yet her words were quiet, filled with a kind of contempt that could only come from years of experience of things better left unheard, and unseen. "They took me from my mother by force, chopped off my wings, used me for their pleasure and left me there to die. An illyrian camp. And no one. Did. A thing." Her eyes were glaring right into Azriel's, her eyes full of all consuming wrath, as her words reminded him of another female he knew.

She laughed, but no humor was present in her voice as she continued. "No one even knew. You and your high lord lived blissfully unaware while my existence crumbled." She hissed at him, stopping just a few steps away.

"I was broken, thought I would never find myself again as I struggled in a lonely cabin I found abandoned in the woods. Felt as if everyday, I was still there, half-dead on the side of the road. Of course I knew living in the cabin was mercy compared to how they treated the women in those camps, like slaves. And thats when a girl came knocking at my door, an escapee from a camp. We decided soon after to create a safe space, for people like us. And the rest is history." She continued, eyes becoming damp at the memory, before shaking her head and smiling slightly, so sweetly. Azriel almost forgot that she had slaughtered a few dozen men a few hours ago.

He tried to reach out silently to catch her as she finally got to a distance where he knew he could grab her, so he could get more information out of her, about things she were clearly omitting, only to realise, that he couldn't move.

He looked up at her in horror as she continued smiling, almost as if it took her no effort restraining one of the strongest illyrians in history.

It didn't, Azriel realised.

"And so we trained. And I took so much pleasure in breaking the bones of men in illyrian camps as we raided them. Saved the women that wanted to leave, took them with us, back to our hideout, expanded it until it became a thriving community. We raided camps and bring people back, who can pick whatever they excel in and work in tandem. It is what I deserved when I had nothing. What they deserve." She smiled, pride shining in her eyes as she now dropped down to sit on a log in front of him, more interested in a white wildflower glowing in the moonlight instead of him.

"Say, Azriel, You're half illyrian, are you not?" She asked, her voice higher, lighter, mocking. "You trained in one of their camps, with your oh so righteous brothers, did you not?"

She did not wait for him to reply, knowing he couldn't. She made sure of it from her magic, taking away his ability to speak.

"You know it as well. Your brothers do too." Her voice was bitter as she plucked the flower. "And yet you choose to hide away in your pretty little city of starlight, ignoring the pain these women go through every day." She finally looked up at him, eyes shining with contempt. "You're just as bad as them." She hissed. "Why shouldn't I shred your wings like your people did to me? Speak, Shadowsinger, speak."

It took a moment for him to realise he could speak again.

Azriel was frustrated, he understood where she was coming from but he could feel his defensive nature for his family coming up. "Rhysand tries. He tries his best to do things for the girls there. There's new laws, there's change. It's happening but these things take time. We are nothing like them."

"You're illyrian, they're illyrian. You saw the suffering of the women there and chose to do nothing about it. You high lord may have put new rules in place, banning clipping of wings, and starting the training of girls. But you and I both know it still happens. All of you do." She shrugged, back to examining the flower. Her face was young still, and her body lithe, Azriel's heart felt a little heavy at the thought of her past, but the anger he felt at being this defenseless in front of a young fae overpowered that.

A dark growl escaped his lips as his jaw tensed, his voice was raspy when he finally continued. "We are trying our best to keep track of it, to eradicate such malpractices comple-"

He was cut off yet again, but this time her voice was louder.

"Well trying is not good enough!" She snapped. "You don't even know it when it happens. You're too busy going on fancy dinners with your inner circle. If you are so good at protecting illyrian women, where are my wings, Azriel?" She hissed as she looked into his eyes as if she was looking into his soul.

He froze at her question, his hazel eyes widening slightly. His jaw was still tense, and he tried to move his body again, failing to do so. He didn't say anything, choosing to remain silent. There was a hint of shame in his eyes as he looked away.

She scoffed as she looked away again as she dropped the flower and stood up again, dusting off her hands against each other.

"Thought so. Anyway," She cleared her throat, putting on a sickly sweet smile. "I am bored and tired of playing with you now. Scurry off, like the dog that you are and tell your high lord I said Hi. I am sure a very interesting gossip session awaits the inner circle tonight." She finished, the end of her sentence blended with yawn that had her stretching her taut muscles as she freed him from her magic and disappeared before he could even get used to the control he now had over his body again.

#azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc #acotar x y/n #azriel x y/n #wingspan #x reader #fantasy #acomaf

[atruthuniversallyunacknowledged]

~Of Letters & Dragons~

Aemond Targaryen x Male Reader

//

(Chapter 2)

//

Manuscript Excerpt found in the Chambers of Lord Baemond Velaryon in the Dragonstone Keep - Gathered by Maester Telmon.

======================================

‘If you think that you have earned my grace thanks to that pitiful act you performed for me the other day, you are seriously mistaken, nephew.’

As I heard my uncle's voice behind me, I turned around to look at him, mildly startled by his intrusion. He stood with his hands behind his back, the strands of his snow white hair dancing in the soft wind like the soft branches of a willow tree. I could sense the sheer intensity on his gaze, and it almost choked me.

‘I understand your reluctance to believing my apologies, but they were sincere, regardless you believed them to be so or not.’ I answered calmly after a quiet moment of contemplation. ‘It is also true that it was not my hand, but those of my brothers who hurt you, but the same blood runs through our veins, and as their successes are my own, so are their crimes.’

The intensity on his gaze didn't waver, even as he silently came closer to me, standing amongst the roots of the Godswood's heart tree.

‘Nobody comes around here anymore; the old faith dies in the south.’ I said quietly, almost to myself, as he stood straight in front of me, looking down on me as I sat in a natural nook made by the roots on the back side of the heart tree, an old heavy book firmly grasped in my hands.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked looking down on the book over my knees.

‘Maester Vaemar's Lessons on Court Survival.’ I answered almost amused looking up again to meet his still intense gaze.

‘Fitting reading.’ was all the answer I got.

‘Do you want it?’ I asked, handing over the book to him.

‘I have already read it.’ he said almost with contempt, still looking down on me.

After that, he turned around and walked away, leaving me to ponder the reason for his unexpected and seemingly inconsequential visit.

The next time we had a meaningful encounter was during one of my private training lessons. I would train with my brothers in the courtyard, yes, but that sort of training felt constrictive and all the way pointless. Training for jousting and fighting in the melee in tournaments felt alien to me, but still it was a duty I had to fulfil, and which I did with notable success. However, when the "official" training was over, I would see myself back into the Godswood's, and inside the root nook of the heart tree, I would train my mind with the volumes of long forgotten maesters’ chronicles, tales of heroes and philosophical lessons.

That day, nevertheless, wasn't the day for it, for as our physical training came to an end, the storm that loomed over the city started to pour heavily, and the training was forcibly ended. As I knew that my nook would be an unfitting place for my private training, I decided then to find myself another reading spot, this time, indoors.

After walking through great halls and crossing heavy doors, gates and dark hallways, I found myself in a candle lit chamber, clearly subterranean, adorned with the bones of the late dragons of the family. Presiding over them, hanging from heavy iron chains, loomed the huge skull of the great Balerion, the Black Dread, its eyes empty but still looking over the room. Underneath it, hundreds of lit candles took it upon themselves to cast long unsettling shadows on the dark and heavy blood red walls, as well as to magnify Balerion's presence, making myself wary of coming closer to it.

‘Are you afraid, nephew?’

I startled as I heard his voice in a whisper over my shoulder, and upon turning around, I found him standing still, very close to my back, and staring at me intensely with his remaining eye, his long white hair, as well as his clothes, soaked with rain.

All the answer I could give was a little puff, and as I looked at him with a complicit look, I stepped away from him with my book still clenched under my arm.

‘I wouldn't call it fear; more like, deference or respect. Only a fool would not feel such emotions in the presence of such a beast, even if it's bones all that remains.’ I was finally able to say as I approached the candle-packed altar, looking at the skull looming over me, heavy and ominous, hearing his steps come closer to where I stood.

‘It must not be such a humbling sight for you though; after all, you are the rider of Vhagar, the biggest dragon alive in the known world.’ I said moving my gaze from Balerion's mighty skull back to his face.

That seemed to strike something inside him, for his answer came almost immediately, with a taste of something I wasn't able to recognise at the time, but which seemed fairly similar to loathing.

‘And I paid the price for it, as everyone, including yourself, knows.’

There was no answer from me this time, and after holding his gaze in mine for a couple of silent seconds, I turned around to look at the room.

‘Is this your secret place? If so, I shall leave you alone.’ I said without looking at him.

‘No.’

‘No to the secret place, or no to my leaving?’ I asked now friskily, turning to look at him.

‘No.’ he repeated sternly as he kept on looking at me.

‘I see that you are as fond of words as I myself am. Would you care to elaborate a bit further for those of us ungifted with beyond measure semantic comprehension?’ I asked playfully once again as I walked back up to him, looking up to save the little distance in height between our eyes.

‘No.’ he repeated for the third time, a cocky smile slowly appearing on his lips.

‘Oh! So you do have a sense of humour after all?’ I teased with an even more playful grin on my own face as I saw his.

‘It was an eye your brothers took from me, not my sense of humour.’ he answered still grinning down at me.

That felt like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over me, especially because I realised he had guided me into that dead end with extreme precision, and only with three words.

‘I shall go now.’ I said after a moment of silence in which I could see him rejoice in his victory over me in our battle of wits.

‘No, you got here first.’ he said quickly to me, grabbing my free arm as I tried to make a go for the exit. ‘The early bird catches the worm; I should know it well.’ This last part he whispered to my ear.

Seemingly frozen in time, with my pulse beating wildly on my temples and the place where his hand held my arm, and as close together as we were, I looked up from his hand into his eye, finding it already staring at me with its usual intensity, almost without blinking.

After that, he stepped away, gave me one last look, and turned around to leave, his wet hair deprived of its usual grace and airiness, but still as alluring as ever.

Taglist: @ephemeralninon @joan2914 @demiromanticpansexualgorgon @lazypinkpig

#aemond targaryen x male reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond stannies #aemond fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

[thedivinelights]

Si Vis Amaris Ama

(Modern AU Scrooge/Marley)

They've had a long and winding road to get to this point, a childhood spun of fate and interspersed with romance. Nevertheless, Marley can't help but have his doubts at moments.

Luckily, Scrooge is always there to remind him

When Jacob A.T. Marley was twelve-years-old, he met his partner for the first time.

He didn’t know it at the time. A spiteful young boy, scorned from others and scorning everyone else, looked upon this blue-eyed, brown-haired boy with disdain and contempt the likes of which he’d never felt for anyone else nor held to such a standard. How dare he take the attention that was meant to be his?! How dare he come forward with his wondrous awe and a nervous countenance, as if he hadn’t known what he was taking with such avarice?! This was his territory, dense and unforgiving. He had claimed his rocky landscape with the Marley domain. The staircases and hallways were his hunting grounds, his bedroom his alcove.

This was his home. Lenore and Abel Marley were his parents. Any love directed at this intruder should’ve been his and his alone! He would choke him out! He would drag him away! He would refuse his friendship! There was no space in their hearts for this greedy, stalking, orbiting, forsaken, abandoned, adorable, cheeky, hopeful shark! None whatsoever! He would fight for his territory! 

He would fight against this… this ruinous boy!

But he made a mistake. A foolish mistake. A beautiful mistake.

For when Jacob A.T. Marley was thirteen-years-old, he fell in love for the first time.

That love grew like a parasite, a bloodsucker, a leech, feasting upon the resentment he held, thriving in the very soil of his bitterness. It crept into the corners of his heart through every shared book, wrapping tendrils around his defences through every shared lunch, and before he realised it, the spiteful young boy found himself captivated by the very presence he had once despised. Even as the boy had grown into a man and found another, Marley was content to stand to the side, even as his heart screamed its protest. He was content to merely work with him, and content to leave it at that.

But then the life that had been born had been born cold, and the affection that had festered had turned into grief of the greatest magnitude, threatening to drown the shark within its black ichor. She left him when all tears were shed and all that was left was greed. And Marley, in his selfishness, confessed five years later. And Scrooge, in his practicality, accepted it.

Thus did the Shark and the Snake blossom amidst corporate greed, falling from grace in their sins, and rising from them all in the same breath, transforming in fire and metal and fear.

Wounds had begun to heal, ignorance turned to revelation, and want gave way to fulfilment. Atonement was by no means an easy task, but they chose to make the effort. Seven years gone, and only stepped back into the limelight when the world grovelled for their return.

And through change came truth, doubts laid bare. And Marley had to ask… had he made Ebenezer Scrooge obligated in this relationship? Was it all a series of contracts, a game to be won by default, or was there genuine affection behind the cold demeanour? Was the partnership merely a shackled facade, or had Scrooge truly come to appreciate Marley's presence?

Marley hadn’t the answer.

“...I’ve emailed over the PowerPoint slides with the information you requested. Did you…? Ah, I see you got our gift. No, no, all of that money is for your cause. I know… yes, I know it’s a hefty sum, but… there’s no hush in this money, sir. Asplex Industries is reforming. Scrooge and I are making sure of that. Yes… alright then, call my secretary for any further details. Cheers.”

Marley let out a sigh of relief as he finally removed the earpiece that had been in his ear for the last hour or so. He drummed his fingers on the table, a smile twitching on his lips at the sheer incredulousness of it all. It was amusing enough to hear the poor man over the phone sounding so sceptical, but so exuberant. A million quid hadn’t been that much, had it?

“I take it GamCare got our donation?” Scrooge pushed his way into their shared office just as Marley finished the call, his partner noting the bags under his eyes, and the crease against his brow that seemed to grow ever larger with each meeting that passed.

“If the screaming in the background had been any indication.” Marley spun a few rounds in his chair, before grasping the desk with his good arm to steady himself. “Poor bloke sounded like I’d just given him a winning lottery ticket.”

Scrooge let out a weary huff, running a hand through his greying hair as he sat down next to Marley. Despite the many shifts they had made in their lives, both the good and the bad, sharing a desk had become a habitual comfort that neither of them were willing to break. Besides, seducing his way into a sitting position in Scrooge’s strong arms, Marley thought with a wicked grin, was a nice little bonus all around.

“Board give you a hard time again?” Marley asked as Scrooge slumped beside him.

“Don’t get me started. The damn thing was interminable.” Scrooge rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t understand how Preslan can have so much energy to last through hours of drivel.”

“Glad it was you and not me.” Marley quipped, earning a wry smile from his lover.

“Ha ha.”

“Anyways, I have some time to kill.” Marley rubbed his right wrist, the bandages beneath shifting and tightening as he did so. “Want to grab some lunch? My treat.”

Scrooge took a glance at the time on the monitor and sighed. “Can’t. I have to coordinate with FULTON with Project: Terraforge. NASA’s paying us a hefty sum for this, and I need to ensure our resident AI doesn’t fuck it up.”

Marley wondered — quite often, he realised — if an artificial intelligence really could screw over a project that badly on accident, but he knew better than to dabble in the specifics and the statistics. He knew nothing of robotics or droids or golems that could terraform and transform landscapes, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. 

“No worries. I’ll grab something and bring it back here. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Scrooge shook his head. “I’ll survive.”

Marley stood up and walked around the desk, pressing a gentle kiss to Scrooge’s temple. “Don’t work yourself to death, okay?”

Scrooge hummed, acknowledging the sentiment without words, and Marley left the office with a heavy heart, wondering if there would ever be a time when Scrooge would prioritise their moments over corporate obligations. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the importance of their work; he did, perhaps more than anyone. And it wasn’t that Scrooge didn’t care; far from it. There was that sneaking darkness of guilt that would creep up on him as their past sins had manifested in dreams and cackled in his sleep. Marley never liked seeing him tossing beneath tangled sheets, being helpless to only sit and watch and cradle as he sobbed at the screams, whimpered at the wails, mewled at the memories. They were fully prepared to be dragged away in cuffs and trapped within bars when they revealed the truth fourteen years ago. It had only been by God’s grace — and the forgiveness of those they had wronged — that they were spared from such a fate.

They had been given the opportunity for restitution, but neither of them didn’t know what to do with it. A fitting problem for men who prided themselves on knowing everything.

They would not speak to each other for a few hours after that. Between scheduling, meetings, and a never-ending stream of emails interspersed between the fires that had to be put out, Scrooge and Marley’s paths rarely crossed. In the moments when they had, both would merely offer a brief smile or a peck on the cheek, and that would be that.

Marley wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t accustomed to such movements, but he wouldn’t say that the sting of disenchantment did not strike a heavy blow either. He hoped for more, he longed for more, and yet he received so little.

Until at last his phone had buzzed, and he saw the message from Scrooge.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Did you see what Fan sent in the group chat?

Marls: Haven’t had a look.

Scrooge forwarded the image of his sister with their young lady, their lightning bolt, their love, and the smile that lit up Marley’s face could have powered those automatons all on its own. 

Marls: Ariana seems to be enjoying herself. We should visit the Philippines for ourselves one day.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: I explicitly told Fan NOT to buy her any chocolate.

Marls: She’s fourteen now, Eb, and she’s your daughter. You know no one can say no to her, especially her Auntie Fan. Aurora could, maybe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: She’s been indoctrinated by her son. You do it.

Marls: You know I can’t do that, I break too easily! T_T

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Then all hope is lost, indeed.

Laughter sprung forth from him like an abundant fountain, and Marley continued his pace. He passed a lonely little lady situated on the cold steps of a Holland & Barrett, a handful of newspapers outstretched towards each person that walked by. Marley stopped and turned to look at her. The little lady looked back. A silent kinship formed between them.

He smiled as he told her he didn’t need one, and he smiled when she smiled as he pulled out a tenner and squeezed it into her hand. He told her to save it well, and left just as his phone buzzed once more.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: If you’re not too busy, love, can you check out this address for me? It’s an old, rundown building, but Pastelle thinks there’s potential in it.

Marley received the postcode, eyebrows raised and voice lilted, giving his response.

Marls: I can do that. If there’s another incident with me on the news, you’ll know it’s unsafe. 

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Please don’t joke about that.

Marls: Alright, alright… sorry, babe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: >:{

The playful emoticon had been enough to make his lips twitch, at the very least, and Marley conceded to the request, punching in the postcode onto his phone.

London had often been a busy tangle of labyrinthine streets and alleys, but in the blazing warmth of August — when the binds of school and work were put on a temporary halt, and life, chaotic as it was, embraced the joyous freedom of summer vacation — there was that singular sense of contentment that filled Marley whenever he so desired to walk amongst the crowds. It was a heat that permeated the air, seeping into every corner of the city, and Marley relished in the simple pleasure of being a part of the bustling life. Men, women, and children no longer parted at the sight of him, their fear of the Snake no longer prevalent. A toddler’s curious gaze lingered on his form for a moment, and Marley wondered then what it would be like to have that, even for a moment.

He hailed a cab and provided the address to the driver, sitting back as the cityscape passed by in a blur of motion and colour. The address Scrooge had given him was not too far from their office, situated in a less frequented part of the city that held remnants of its industrial past. It wasn’t really somewhere Marley frequented, mind you. His routes had often been more central, and when he committed to his self-imposed isolation after his accident, he had little reason to leave Essex.

But for Asplex, and for Scrooge, he would go wherever he needed to… within reason, at least.

The cab pulled up to his destination, and Marley paid the fare with little thought as he pushed the car door open, expecting a dilapidated exterior with more rodents and vermin than potential.

He stepped out onto the pavement, and Marley had to confer with the driver that, yes, this had been the right place.

For in the place of abandonment, Marley had been greeted with a beautiful facade, golden accents and intricate designs reminiscent of a time long past. A queue stretched out for what seemed like an eternity, and a velvet rope marked the barrier between the streets and the grand establishment that awaited him. There were those who gasped at the sight of him — the illustrious Jacob Marley, a public sight more uncommon than that of a comet streaking the night sky — and Marley clutched at his form, pudgy and unrefined as it was.

It was rare to see one of them out and about, and rarer still to see them together.

“Surprised, Jacob?”

Marley heard his name, sensed the footsteps, and felt the heat rush to his face as Scrooge finally arrived.

“Oh, you fucking asshole…” Marley gasped, and Scrooge laughed. It was a gorgeous sound, a beautiful sound. But there was none more handsome than the sight that laid before him.

The Shark stood at last, cleaning up better than even he had expected. His navy suit with his burgundy tie and white undershirt had been tailored perfectly, smart and smooth and snug. His black gloves tightened as his arm tugged against the silk and curled his hand into a fist around a mysterious black bag. His elevator shoes echoed across the pavement, polished to such a degree that they mirrored the city lights above.

“You’re six foot four.” Marley’s filter had long since passed away. “You don’t need those.”

Scrooge leaned against a pole as his leg slowly rose. “I could take them off for you, if you—”

Marley flushed crimson. “N-No, I think we’re… you’re… we’re fine!” 

Scrooge snorted like a pig when he grabbed him with such speed, holding him and halting his attempted seduction. It was quite obvious, then, as Marley noted how Scrooge seemed to bury in and press his stomach ever closer to his own, hands trailing every curve and contour.

“I couldn’t resist, babe, I’m sorry.” Scrooge’s lips pressed a tender kiss to Marley’s forehead, and the blazing summer was nothing compared to the warmth that swelled within him as it roared and flickered all at once.

“You’re a liar.” Marley grinned. “A liar and a cheat and a monster. You are terrible. Absolutely horrible.”

Scrooge chuckled, the sound resonating in the night air. "Guilty as charged, my love. But this is a lie I’m rather proud of."

Marley rolled his eyes as he linked his arm with Scrooge’s. “Let’s hope you didn’t lie about reserving this place.”

The bouncer eyed them sternly as they approached, as suspicious as them as he had been of everyone else that passed through. But upon revealing their reservation, the velvet rope lifted for them without question. Marley could feel the leers directed at him, scrutinising and judgemental. They were all beautifully thin and fit, and he was here, soft and round, wearing a messy ponytail and arriving in ill-fitting clothes that gripped his body in all the wrong places. Scrooge could go for someone better here. He could’ve taken Belle and Dick instead of someone like him…

But then Scrooge wrapped his arm around him, and led him by the small of his back, and pulled him close. He realised it then, feeling as loved and owned as he was.

Scrooge would’ve chosen no one else. For there was no one more beautiful in the Shark’s eyes than the Snake that was nestled in his arms.

“Ignore them.” Scrooge whispered gently, his breath tickling his ear.

And Marley did, knowing that he could.

“Good evening, Herr Scrooge, Herr Marley.” The owner, a friendly German with a neatly trimmed beard, shook their hands with a fervour as he greeted them, and Marley recognised him immediately. The man had been one of their many victims in the past — a mismanagement of an old restaurant’s profits by a bootstrapper with more sleaze than sense was all that Scrooge and Marley needed to strike — and a tentative acquaintance that had become more cordial as compensation was issued and confessions brought to light.

Many had chosen to remain silent for their sake, a judgement that seemed incomprehensible, but was all the more just. For in a world governed by greed and secrecy, the truest forms of repentance were few and far between.

“Mr. Amsler.” Marley greeted back, flashing him his famous debonair smile. “You must have kept this under wraps for quite a while.”

“It’s all thanks to your Schatz here.” Amsler tilted his head, and Marley’s ears burned crimson at the end. “He said it was merely payment, but the selfishness has come clean, ja?”

Scrooge huffed indignantly, a hint of a pout on his lips. “How rude of you to insinuate that I did not do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Herr Scrooge. Waiving payment was your true motive.” Amsler winked, and it had been Scrooge’s turn to shift colours. “Right this way, if you please.”

He led the couple through the crowded rows of tables and chairs and up onto a grand staircase lined with ornate railings and decadent, dazzling chandeliers. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music filled the air as they ascended to a higher level, each conversation creating a symphony neither frenzied nor discordant.

The door swung open to reveal a luxurious space bathed in dim ambient light. Plush velvet couches and golden accents adorned the room, and a stunning view of the London skyline stretched out beyond the large windows. Ever had it been a magical sight, even to those two souls who had spent all of their years amongst these views. A bar sat at the far end of the room with an array of fine spirits and cocktails displayed in crystal decanters, manned by bartenders clad in crisp white shirts and black waistcoats, while servers floated around with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The scent of rich, sumptuous food wafted through the air, teasing their senses with the promise of an unforgettable night.

Amsler gestured to a secluded table set for two in a dimly lit corner, bowing with a flourish before leaving the couple to their own devices Scrooge pulled out a chair for Marley, and he took a seat, admiring the opulent surroundings as he settled into the chair opposite him.

The waiter appeared not moments later, impeccably dressed and similarly good mannered, as he approached with a practised smile as they asked for their order.

"I'll have the Kobe beef carpaccio for starters." Scrooge began, looking at Marley who nodded approvingly. "Followed by the lobster bisque, and for the main course, we'll take the fillet mignon for two, medium-rare. Oh, and a bottle of red, if you please."

The waiter noted down the order with a gracious nod and a discreet smile before turning his attention to Marley.

"And for you, sir?"

Marley glanced at the menu, his eyes widening as he perused the extravagant offerings. "Uh, I'll have the foie gras to start, then the truffle risotto, and, um, the baked Alaska for dessert. Sparkling water for me."

The waiter left with haste, and Scrooge scrunched up his nose in coltish abhorrence.

“Sparkling water? Really?”

“It’s a good refreshment.” Marley defended with a whine.

“Carbonated water is not refreshing.” Scrooge rolled his eyes as he rubbed his thumb over Marley’s bandages.

Marley laced his fingers with his. “Says the man who comes into the office with either Starbucks or a Monster.”

“The blatant disrespect! And after all the trouble I went through to make this date a possibility!” Scrooge’s lips formed a brazen smirk. “I had to reschedule my meetings for this.”

“Oh, the horror! Whatever will Ebenezer Scrooge do without his perfectly systematic timetable?” 

Marley slapped a hand to his forehead in a comically theatrical faint, and Scrooge only held onto him tighter.

“Careful, Juliet. We’re not starcrossed.” 

Marley grinned. Crooked, goofy, unabashedly him, and stupid enough to make Scrooge fall even further than even Icarus had, carried by waxen wings.

More patrons had filed into the lounge as they ate, each addition more vainglorious and eclectic than the last, as if the whole world had gathered in unison under pretences of sophistication. It often left a bitter taste in Marley’s mouth to interact with them. He knew how to please them, sure. Mr. Adeleye’s daughter was an inspired lover of Fan’s concerts, Mrs. Gupta had a weakness for diamonds — white ones, the size of a robin’s egg — and Sir Reginald and Lady Foster would be more than inclined to cooperate if their hotel room was shared and their specific ‘amenities’ taken care of. Cuffs, massage oil and the like.

Such was the dance Marley intimately understood. If you knew what one desired, you knew how to grant them. And if you knew how to grant them, you knew how to make them come back for more. It was simple commerce. I give you what you want, you give me what I want. A transaction as old as the days when cowries reigned as currency. And he knew each patron off by heart, their desires laid bare from years of slithering through the grass of pleasantries, keeping out of sight from the moguls and magnates that prowled similar territory.

People called him an assassin of pleasure, a harbinger of delights, a viper of vices, amongst other pretty little epithets. A teller of truths who toyed with them all the same. But Marley wasn’t a killer, not really. He was a survivor. A survivor amidst the throngs of those who would tear him down, who would expose him, who would feast upon his flesh like the carrion crows they were. He had learned long ago to play the game, to dance with the devils and demons that lurked in the shadows, and to emerge unscathed, unmarked, unbroken. If he lost a small part of his identity to imprint upon theirs, then so be it; the world was not kind to those who didn’t adapt to the shifting tides.

And yet, amidst all the decadence and debauchery, there was one thing that remained constant. One beacon of light in the ever-darkening abyss.

“You alright, Jake?”

Marley startled out of his ruminations, being greeted with the concerned yet affectionate gaze of his husband. He blinked. He shook his head and smiled.

“I’m alright, Eb.”

He thought that if he said it aloud, Scrooge would believe him. Others would have. His words were smoother than the finest of honey made by the royal family’s own colony. People knew him. That’s what they all thought.

But Scrooge just stared, face set in an expression Marley remembered. He’d used it for all of his life, for as long as they had known each other since the days of their meeting. First as a shield, then as a sword, and now as a crutch to lean upon when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

“Liar.” Scrooge had said finally.

Damn it, he thought. Damned was he who loved and knew so much.

“Yeah…” Marley pulled his hand away, bandages and all. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

The empty plate of baked Alaska appealed more to his attention than anything else at the moment. Scrooge continued to stare, and Marley felt like an Antiguan racer kept captive in a terrarium, observed by an indifferent biologist who knew every little intricacy of his being.

“You couldn’t ruin the mood even if you tried.” Scrooge’s voice was soft, tender, and Marley was furious with how much he wanted to believe it. “You make it better.

His husband scoffed, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him, severe and savage only to himself. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Scrooge leaned forward and reached across the table, both hands finding Marley’s once more and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry for being so preoccupied with work lately, and I’m sorry for not being there. I know it’s not ideal… and with Ariana away, we should be having time for ourselves, not swamped with work. But that’s not to say I think she’s a distraction, she’s not! I love our daughter! I love having her around and seeing her and spending time with her, but I also love to spend time with you, and…”

“Eb, you’re rambling again.”

Scrooge paused, cheeks flushing with a vivid embarrassment. “Sorry…”

Marley shook his head, amused as he had ever been with his antics. He told him not to worry, that he was glad that he understood, and Scrooge was glad he did too.

“I’ll be honest, though; I think I came… unprepared.” Marley’s eyes darted around like wild beasts, his sight escaping from the confines of their booth to the surrounding crowd, all dressed to the nines. “I feel like a duckling in a room of swans.”

“You’re a swan too.” Scrooge defended.

“You’re biased, Ebenezer.” Marley joked as his lips quirked upwards into a cheeky grin. 

“I am just as objective as I have always been, Jacob.” Scrooge felt an innate sense of pride at his own words, puffing up his chest to contain it. “And my analysis of the situation dictates that as the truth.”

Marley hid his smile behind a sip of his sparkling water and told his husband to stop, but Scrooge’s refusal was undeniable. All it had done was fan the flame.

“Even still, with your objective deduction…” Marley mused, swirling his glass around idly. “The fact remains that, well, I am underdressed.”

But Scrooge, as sharp of a man as he had always been and twice as deadly, leaned back into his chair with a smug grin that could only very well be described as borderline infuriating to anyone trying to win an argument against him. 

“Then allow me to fix that, dear viper.”

A bag was pulled out from beneath the table, the same one Marley had seen him holding when he first arrived, though being adamantly enraptured by other sights, he had given it no further thought. The bag itself was unremarkable — a black tote, with no discernible markings or designs, save for a small logo embroidered in silver thread. But as Scrooge unzipped it and reached inside, Marley couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation wash over him, tinged with a hint of curiosity and excitement.

Scrooge pulled out a garment, unfolding it with care and precision, as if handling a priceless artefact. And perhaps, in Marley’s eyes, it was. 

For it was a dress Scrooge had gifted him. Not a suit that choked his frame. Not a tie that constricted his neck. Not a shirt that tore at the seams. A dress. A beautiful, majestic, wonderful, fascinating dress.

A dress Marley had only seen once before and yearned for only in dreams.

It was a masterpiece of fabric and design, crafted with the expertise of a master artisan. The material was a lush forest green, reminiscent of the deepest, most enchanting emerald hues of a secluded forest glen. It flowed like liquid silk, cascading down in gentle verdant waves that shimmered and danced in the dim light of the restaurant. The neckline was modest yet alluring, with delicate gold lace adorning the edges like the intricate patterns on a window of winter frost.

But it was the silhouette that truly took Marley’s breath away. The dress hugged every curve of his body with a flattering embrace, accentuating his figure in all the right places while skimming over any imperfections with effortless grace. It cinched at the waist, drawing attention to his wider hips and fuller chest, before flaring out into a voluminous skirt that would pool elegantly around his ankles.

It was elegant, refined, and utterly breathtaking.

“Is this—?”

“—the same dress that you were eyeing a few weeks ago? Yup.” Scrooge finished, popping the ‘p’ at the end, piercing even through the din of the bustling restaurant.

“But that…” Marley’s trembling hands reached for the fabric, the handover being as quiet as he had been. There was no way… this had to have been a dream, Scrooge wouldn’t… he wouldn’t…

We’re not married, Jacob.

Those words… he knew them well, all those years ago. They stung him, cut him, tore him. He was ready to leave. The Snake was ready to slither away, to leave the Shark to his own devices. To bury the man he knew and hope against hope that he would never cross paths with him in this lifetime, or the next.

The monstrosity of his arm was proof enough. The seven years away was proof enough. The child they found in the thicket was proof enough.

But now… even through the suffering and the pain and the greed…

People always said it was the little things that mattered most; Marley wouldn’t complain if there was a grand gesture or two sandwiched between them.

“Do you like it…?” Scrooge asked, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

Marley said nothing in response, only staring at the dress, then to Scrooge, then to the plates, then to the patrons, then back to Scrooge, then back to Scrooge, then back to—

He stood and left the booth, and Scrooge felt a drop in his stomach like an anchor sunken to the bottom of the sea, trapping him between hope and despair, fear and excitement, anguish and contentment. He’d fucked up, hadn’t he? There was no reason for Marley to stay. He gave him that choice the moment he saw the video, saw the papers, saw the pain. What an idiot he had been. A stupid, selfish, sleazy idiot. There had always been fine print. An excuse to make his husband don a dress. He promised he wouldn’t do this again. He swore it!

But then Marley returned moments before Scrooge thought to crush the glass in his hand, and he could hear the gasps of indignation that were muttered by the ones with delicate sensibilities. 

Fuck, Scrooge had underplayed how gorgeous he would look in it.

Marley looked ethereal, breathtaking, radiant. It fit him just as the tailor had intended, clinging to his voluptuous figure, accentuating every round curve, every soft line of his body, flowing as the wind through the trees, graceful and fluid. There was a light to his aged green eyes and a true smile to grace his cracked lips. Black and grey locks flowed into a bun, just as he had before everything, but a looseness and fluidity was there. Each strand framed him perfectly, not framed him differently.

There was nothing, however, dear reader, truly nothing, that could compare to the face Scrooge had made in that moment, when he noticed that the bandages had finally unravelled, tossed in the bin. Marley couldn’t move it the way he wanted it to. The blemishes that remained, angry marks and dents like reddened craters on the surface of the moon. They twisted and contorted his once pristine skin, leaving behind a twisted tapestry of scars that told the story of a life forever changed by fire and metal and fear.

Marley looked at him at last, shy but somehow more confident than he had ever been, and still Scrooge looked at him like he was the most desirable creature to ever grace this earth.

“You look…” Scrooge’s voice caught in his throat, desperately finding the words that eluded him. “...absolutely heavenly.”

“Really…?” Marley blushed furiously, the rosy hue spreading across his cheeks like the light of dawn breaking over the horizon. “I mean… neither of us are even close to being saints.”

“I know we’re not.” Scrooge finally made his move, taking each step in stride as he forced his way out of the booth, into the centre of the room, in front of people who knew him and knew Marley. “But we can pretend to be, can’t we?”

He moved impossibly close, arms wrapping around as best he could, feeling the silk beneath his calloused fingertips, gloves long gone, the scent of Marley’s cologne filling his senses, intoxicating him like the finest wine.

“Let’s just be us, Eb.” Marley responded, burying into the crook of his neck as he repeated it once more. “Let’s just be us.”

Scrooge hummed, and the strains of music filled the air, permeating throughout the lounge with its melodious, dulcet tones. He vaguely recalled the theme being of musicals that night.

How fitting that Julie Andrews and Bill Lee should serenade them with something good.

“Dance with me, Jacob?”

“...Always.”

Tagged; @rom-e-o @quill-pen @crimson-phantom-designs @ray-painter

#ebenezer scrooge #jacob x scrooge #jacob marley #jacob alexander thorne marley #ebenezer lysandre percival scrooge #a christmas carol #modern au #everyone lives/nobody dies #This took me FOREVER TO DO #Happy Valentine's Day y'all!!! #fic

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

OOF! That was rough! @lisellelascelles I hope you're proud of yourself. 🤣 Seriously though thank you for the prompt! And let me know if you were looking for something other than Bagginshield.

It Was Only a Dream

Pairing: Bagginshield

Type of Trick: Unrequited Pining

Warnings: Angst, Canonical Character Death

Word Count: 733

Bilbo had thought after everything that had happened, things would have ended differently for him. There had been the hug after he had saved Thorin’s life, the look and nod after vouching for him in Laketown, and of course the mithril that Balin had let slip exactly the worth of such a gift. Surely it had to mean something? Bilbo’s heart ached for it to mean something beyond friendship. Yet that was the word Thorin kept repeating. 

Perhaps he had only been deluding himself. Falling for a pair of blue eyes and a singing voice that had him sprinting out his door in the first place. Thorin had always made it very clear he didn’t want him. The disdain and contempt that rolled off him through the first leg of their journey should have been more than enough of a hint. However, once he had proved himself there had been a change in Thorin, and that was the part that was most painful to acknowledge. The sheer undeniable hope that had surged in Bilbo that he could get Thorin back his home, and the dwarf king would hold Bilbo in the same regard. Yet now, standing before the throne of Erebor, Bilbo didn’t know why he ever thought something so outlandish.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin remarked kindly. “My Burglar, my dear friend.”

Bilbo felt his ears wiggle in delight at the term ‘my’ coming from Thorin’s lips.

“May we part in friendship. I forgive any and all transgressions you’ve made against Erebor, and grant you leave of anything you desire in the treasury. To take back to your books, your gardens, your armchair. Truly if more people valued home above gold, the world would be a merrier place.”

Bilbo stood there completely flummoxed even as something familiar niggled at the back of his mind.

“Wait! So…that’s it then? I just…I thought…”

Thorin tilted his head to the side as his eyebrows pulled together. “Haven’t you thought of nothing but your Bag End and your warm bed?”

“Well, I…yes…but…”

“Bilbo…” Thorin soothed with his deep melodic voice. “You don’t belong here. You’ll be nothing but a burden.”

“Thorin, please, let me just…”

“This gold is minnnnnee…”

Bilbo sat up in bed, his heavy breathing filling the quiet of the dark room. Bilbo fought the covers to light a candle, letting it reveal his bedroom in Bag End. Bilbo let his head flop backwards as he sucked in a deep breath. A dream. It was just a dream. He rubbed his hands down his face. What a terrible way to remember his friend. He couldn’t rest like this. He ought to pen Thorin a letter asking to visit Erebor soon. After all, the real Thorin wouldn’t deny him a visit, even if his feelings weren’t returned. 

Bilbo fought his way to his feet. His joints feeling stiff despite working perfectly well. However, just before his feet hit the ground, a realization occurred that somehow managed to punch the air right out of his lungs. He couldn’t write Thorin a letter. He could never write Thorin again. Thorin wasn’t in Erebor living his days as king. Thorin was dead.

A strangled sound managed to gurgle its way out of Bilbo’s throat before he was sobbing right there in his bed. He couldn’t remember being this distraught in a long time. However, there was something more painful in never knowing if his feelings would have been returned. To have been rejected was one thing, to live without the only person he’s ever loved…

“Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo sucked in a breath at the sleepy voice in the doorway. He hastily wiped at his eyes.

“Yes, lad. What is it?” He snapped.

Frodo stood there dumbfounded for a moment. “You were crying.”

Bilbo heaved a deep sigh as he slowly lifted his head to meet his younger cousin’s steady gaze with a weak smile.

“My dreams were poor. That’s all. May you find better ones.”

Frodo hesitated for a little while longer before nodding his head and leaving with a soft ‘good night Uncle’. Bilbo sat there a little longer in his pity before deciding to follow his own advice and chase after better dreams. He blew out his candle, tucking himself back in, and pulling out his ring as he traced the smooth piece of gold. The only treasure he could find solace in after his little tragic adventure.

Trick or treat my inbox.

#trick or treat my inbox #the hobbit #bagginshield #canon character death #sorry for the pain

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

163. Bejeweled

Midge puts on her coat and leaves the apartment.

With Joel, it took years before he became bored with her. Before he decided to throw their life away. With Gordon, it’s taken less than two months.

Back when she was shiny and new - the new toy he could play with - she excited him. She felt amazing because he thought she was amazing.

And now that he’s bored with her, she feels dull and lifeless.

She arrives at a club in midtown, just wanting to laugh, wanting to remember what it’s like to walk into a room and be seen.

Of course the person who spots her first is the one who always sees her.

His whole face lights up when she walks in, his eyes shimmering in the darkness of the room, and she’s drawn to him like a magnet. It seems he feels the same, as he abandons his friends in order to meet her halfway, his cigarette poised between his fingers.

She feels herself smile, suddenly feeling too warm beneath her coat as he looks at her with that very bad smile. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She greets.

“I could say the same for you,” he replies. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

She shrugs noncommittally. “I’ve been busy, but tonight...” She takes a deep breath and sighs. “I have all the time in the world.”

His grin softens. “Then I guess it’s my lucky night.”

She slips her coat off, revealing the dress underneath. A light blue, the beading shimmers in the light, and she watches as his gaze darkens. She smirks. “Good?” 

He chuckles a little nervously, a color she’s not used to seeing on him. “Any doubt about my favorite color has gone right out the fucking window.”

She laughs, and it feels good. It feels good to laugh with him. To sit with him at the bar and drink and banter. To be with someone who doesn’t ever feel contempt with the familiarity of her. To be with someone who loves her.

Because he does. She knows he does.

A while later, when she’s two drinks in, the band starts playing a slower number, and he offers his hand. She slips hers into it, enjoying the warmth of his skin as he leads her to the dance floor. He pulls her close, guiding their steps, and before she knows it, she’s resting her head against his shoulder, her fingertips delicately running along the back of his neck.

“Midge...?” He asks quietly. “I...I’m going to hate myself for asking this, but...”

She lifts her head to look up at him, that uncharacteristically unsure expression on his face again. She tilts her head curiously.

He sighs, but he continues to move with her. “Don’t you have a man waiting for you?”

Of course he knows. She and Gordon haven’t been particularly public with their relationship, but they also haven’t been hiding it. But these last couple of weeks, it hasn’t even felt like they’re together. They haven’t spent more than a couple of passing moments alone together, so...

"No,” she answers decisively. “No, Gordon and I are...we’re over.”

Lenny watches her, clearly seeing the gears turning in her mind. “Does he know that?” He asks.

“He’s bored,” she answers, and his arm tightens around her a little. “He doesn’t want me anymore, and honestly...I don’t think I ever really wanted him."

He keeps dancing with her, considering his next words, and then he asks, “Then why were you with him?”

“Honestly?” She asks. He nods once. “Because you weren’t around. Because of the bag. And the lecture. And I missed being wanted.”

He dips his head until barely a breath of space separates their lips. “Darling, I have always wanted you,” he murmurs.

She smiles uncontrollably, her face flushing, and she’s grateful for the darkness of the club to hide it. “Always?” She asks.

“I’m sitting in the back of a police car, feeling very sorry for myself, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is thrown in next to me in a...” He inhales deeply, and his gaze rakes over her. “...very sheer nightgown in my favorite color. And then a few days later, I learn that she’s also the funniest woman I’ve ever met. How am I not supposed to want her?”

She bites her lip gently and dips her head, suddenly feeling shy despite the fact that she has already been as intimate with him as she’s been with anyone in her life.

“The bag is gone,” he continues. “As are all the contents. You’re working again, so I don’t anticipate another lecture in the future, and...” She looks up, and he smiles down at her. “I’m around,” he finishes quietly.

She smiles softly. “Yeah...you are,” she breathes.

She tilts her head upward, and he meets her in the middle with a slow, sweet kiss.

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #mltswift

[pitgritted]

          ➤ starter  for  @playedbetter  –  "  you  can't  just  flip  a  switch  and  become  someone  else  .  "  (  hwei  )

⟐ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌 .                                  sett  kept  his  jaw  tightly  wedged  shut  ,  glaring  at  the  other  with  thinly  veiled  contempt  .  a  sickening  sensation  sprawled  itself  ,  evolving  beyond  simple  nerve  impulses  &  sensation  .  it  felt  as  if  his  vocal  chords  had  been  speared  ,  his  voice  succumbed  by  the  burbling  of  blood  in  his  lungs  &  the  damage  to  his  larynx  .  a  phenomenon  he  has  never  felt  liable  to  defend  himself  against  .  not  one  that  was  of  physical  entity  .  he  was  sheer  fucking  uncomfortable  .  the  malleable  cartilage  of  his  nose  would  twitch  ,  wrinkles  displaying  more  of  the  boss’  disgust  .

he  tries  to  speak  ,  tries  to  defend  himself  .

❝  that’s  horse  shit  [  ...  ]  but  that  would  be  something  i  would  say  hadn’t  you’ve  been  known  ‘ere  in  the  criminal  underworld  .  people  get  real  fuckin’  terrified  if  you  show  up  .  ❞

                                  the  dark  teal  haired  painter  before  him  was  a  notorious  name  thrown  around  all  who  feared  being  confronted  &  exposed  for  their  sins  .  be  it  murder  ,  evasion  of  responsibility  ,  theft  ,  &  beyond  other  things  sett  couldn’t  afford  to  think  about  in  this  moment  .  sett  knew  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  escape  the  likes  of  confrontation  ,  his  whole  career  catered  to  underground  fighting  .  it  was  an  illegal  &  unsanctioned  activity  ,  exposing  the  brutal  truth  that  even  death  can  be  banked  on  .  the  severity  of  these  fights  were  not  his  to  judge  ,  it  was  his  to  procure  money  .

while  qayanvi  is  a  pretty  populous  city  in  ionia  ,  sett  has  his  tactics  to  keeping  underground  communities  under  wraps  .  it  is  true  ,  sett  provides  illegal  or  unlicensed  matches  without  the  knowledge  or  approval  of  the  authorities  or  the  city  itself  ,  but  with  enough  licensing  &  credibility  ,  he  can  provide  shows  that  pertain  to  regular  approved  brawling  .

it  was  a  mask  to  hide  the  real  bloodlust  going  on  in  the  pit  that  he  ran  .

                                  sett  maneuvers  his  toothpick  between  the  folds  of  his  tongue  &  gaps  of  his  teeth  .  biting  on  it  once  it  plies  itself  over  fanged  molars  .  ❝  i  expected  ‘y'  would  show  up  at  some  point  .  but  not  like  this  .  ❞  he  punctuates  with  a  lazy  flick  of  his  fingers  towards  the  painter  .  gesturing  to  his  lanky  build  .  ❝  let’s  get  one  thing  straight  [  ;  ]  you  know  nothin’  about  me  .  don’t  act  like  you  do  .  ❞  his  voice  deadpans  to  a  threatened  snarl  .  the  scorching  rumble  of  his  vastayan  decency  tethering  into  his  throat  .

he  was  passionate  in  how  he  felt  ,  &  he  realizes  it  was  something  that  can  make  him  readable  in  that  aspect  .  puts  up  a  front  of  pride  &  egotistical  worth  .

❝  paint  all  ‘ya  want  ,  but  don’t  go  runnin’  ‘yer  mouth  .  ❞

#playedbetter #𓆰 ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲… 〞 — 𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 : SETT THE BOSS. #sett ic. #queue. #Ty for your patience and I’m sorry this took so long to write!!

[petruchio]

it’s been said, and i agree, that what was so great about early taylor (basically up to 1989) has always been the feeling of genuine truth and honesty in the songs. almost as if they weren’t aware of the fact that they were destined to be mega-hits; they felt so incisive and brutally true to the life of an individual in a way that’s rare in popular music and even rarer in music aimed at young women. but that itself was tied to the lyricism, and a big part of that was the simplicity of it. not that there weren’t great turns of phrase (and you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you) or interesting phonic structures (faSter than the wind, paSSionate aS Sin, ending So Suddenly) but those moments felt like less like intentional interpolation of a skill and more like natural consequences of the sheer honesty of the songwriting. my issue with the more recent taylor is that i feel like the two have been flipped — that is, that it feels like the songs are more interested in being lauded as genius works of songwriting craft than they are in being confessional pieces that work well because the songwriting holds up behind all that honesty. a metaphor like “you paint me a blue sky then go back and turn it to rain” works because the simplicity of the language and the metaphor distill the emotionally fraught story it’s telling in such a sharp and clear image. the internal rhyme of “paint” and “rain” serves to make the musicality of the language shine, but it isn’t the point of the lyric. whereas something like “familiarity breeds contempt don’t put me in the basement when i want the penthouse of your heart” just feels overdone. it’s so obsessed with repeating the “t” sound, referencing the idiom, and creating a layered metaphor that it ends up losing any sense of coherency. and in doing so we lose the clarity of feeling that made those early records so great.

#this is my way of saying like. bejeweled is a bad song #and this is why sweet nothing is the most ‘classic taylor’ song on the album #the single line about the pebble is better than 90% of anti hero. *because* it’s simple. that’s what makes it feel true #like just honesty does not a song make: see all those terrible tik tok songs that are just lists of things #but the songwriting craft always felt natural in taylors work #and now it feels too self aware of the fact that it’s A SONG THAT IS GOOD #and it loses that sense of connection for me #caroline speaks #ts midnights #OK sorry that’s just me thinking out loud for tonight

[unofficialadamtaurus]

holy shit I don’t even know what say. this chapter is by far the most emotional one? Like i thought the fight was heart wrenching?? This one just ripped it out and plastered it against a brick wall??

The quiet moments of contemplation are straight poetry, and legitimately I could feel Adam’s self-contempt, Blake’s guilt, how exhausted they both feel, their shared nostalgia. God that part where their just reflecting and remembering and missing each other made me tear up. they felt so goddamn old. So fucking tired.

I don’t think you could’ve sold the feeling of strayed, torn apart, broken friends better.

> This was her choice. The bridge destroyed when her friends intervened was not gone forever, not so long as she and Adam both lived.

> She let out a long, slow breath. "How did we get here, Adam?"

GOD that got me so good it forced me to take a few seconds because I almost started crying. Never thought I’d cry reading fanfiction about oppressed furries but here we are.

And Adam’s talk about saving himself?

>"You know, I once thought I could get something from it. Rise above. Instead I wasted my life fighting what I couldn't change, then threw it all away to chase pointless revenge. Some hero."

> "It wasn't about saving other faunus. It was about saving myself. Every one of them—a chance to reach back through time and drag myself free."

FUCK I cried. God it’s so relatable it fucking hurts. How the hell did you manage to put those feelings to words? That “I never had a chance” feeling? That “I should’ve even tried” feeling? That growing belief that you’ve always been dammed?

Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for your coworkers to find you crying while starting at your phone???

ugh and that part about Blake’s sheer determination? To be better? To help? You go you selfish ass girl. Be fucking selfish.

Also

> "I'm tired, Blake. I want it to be over. I want to be done. Just…just do me one favor." His fingers curled, tugging on his hair hard enough to hurt. "When they execute me, watch it through to the end."

Not Adam telling his traumatized and emotionally conflicted ex to watch him die ✌️🤡

Ex Parte was all about breaking them both down physically to get to their cores. Arraignment is them actually talking through that pain - like ripping off a bandage so you can clean the wound beneath.

That line from Adam was a real 🤡 moment lol. He really said "I know I'm gonna die, how can I make this worse for Blake?" (but actually no he genuinely just wants someone he knows cared about him at one point to be a witness as opposed to a wall of faceless soldiers who would only be happy he's dead)

I really do love how you give me a play by play of your experience with the chapter, it's fantastic 😊

Oh, and of course, the Adam angst train isn't done yet 😈

#anon #unofficial adam answers #hollow people spoilers #hollow people #adam taurus #blake belladonna #happy tag #opPRESSED FURRIES l m a o #you're welcome for making you cry in public 👍 #long post #hollow people reviews

[kryptonitecore]

Reread: Transformers: Devastation

I spent at least a few pages of this comic completely unaware that there was a Warsaw in Indiana, and I was very confused as to how the Autobots were supposed to drive from America to Poland in less than a day. The geography of this series is somewhat in flux though, as Brasnya has now progressed from a ‘breakaway Soviet state’ to a ‘former Russian state’, which is pretty impressive in a few hours. 

The art had some pretty nice moments in this comic, with some very deliberate visual parallels between Optimus and Megatron and some really nice colours, courtesy of Zak Atkinson. The art is variable, however - most of it is by E. J. Su, but there is an issue by Robby Musso (which I wasn’t as much of a fan of…) and one by Nick Roche, which I really liked.

Compared to its predecessors the tone is more comedic, with quite a few reaction shots and quick jumps between characters and groups, or at least that’s how it starts off. A high point of ridiculousness - and it’s intentional ridiculousness - is the fact that the Decepticons on Earth decide to wake Starscream up from the equivalent of a medical coma rather than have a conversation with Megatron themselves about how all of his plans lately seem to have been terrible. I can only say that I am disappointed we did not see more of that conversation.

Nevertheless, the book carries on with the Weird Moments™ that have bedecked previous issues. From the utterly godawful holo-avatars (I was particularly distressed by Rodimus’ ponytail and wraparound sunglasses) to another moment where Megatron just has a mouth laser, there are plenty of mildly strange moments to enjoy, especially since this is where Furman clearly starts bringing together a lot of the plot-lines that had seemingly disappeared, so every character that has so far shown up in one Spotlight is suddenly making a return.

The central evil plan of Scorponok/Machination is, as all great evil plans are, mostly nonsensical, and this book has no problem with making fun of the whole concept of Headmasters while still using it. Some of the body horror surrounding Sunstreaker is still effective, though, especially when they let Nick Roche take over for an issue… Speaking of Roche, he has some really excellent alt covers for these issues, this having been a favourite for a while:

It’s important to spend quality time with your evil faction members and make some happy memories. 

In what’s becoming a bit of a theme in what I’ve been reading from IDW1 recently, Megatron’s contempt for his own army is clear, particularly his contempt for Sixshot who, despite being a Phase Sixer, is still pretty disposable. Another notable feature of Furman’s Megatron is the sheer confidence, I mean: ‘I serve the Decepticon cause’,  ‘Then you serve me’. This mixes interestingly with some of the later stuff… 

There are a couple of nice moments for Rodimus in this, too, especially with Hardhead when he insists on disobeying orders to try and rescue Sunstreaker. It’s interesting that the Reapers (from Spotlight: Sixshot) come back and Sixshot is allowed to carry on with that arc, but Galvatron and his crew felt extraneous, especially considering they showed up when there were already about a million things happening in the final issues. Nevertheless, this is probably my favourite of the Furman miniseries.

#transformers #comics #the grand reread 2023-2024 #rereading! #transformers devastation

[the-sun-hot]

A Dance at Evening

Once in the soft light of evening

I would dance between a love

For the simultaneity of me with 

All other things

And the sheer beauty that bloomed

In the combination of light, form, and color.

But now in the evening of the day

I feel only the throes of wanting

And the tension between that 

Which I want and that which

I can believe.

So I ask and beg for something

Like forgiveness. For I had no

Idea that what I can believe

Would be so contemptible.

-      -       -

Do not resort yourself to pity

Over my loss of dance.

Still I see shadows, forms, light, and colors.

But they no longer thrum and hum

Some irresistible rhythm, they do not move me.

Instead I plead that you try your best

To always be haunted by that beat

And in each moment to try

To place it into whatever it is you do.

To believe that rhythm must 

Be felt through everything. Else it 

Will be replaced by pity and misery.

And it will step to some metronome

Of necessity and lose all of its

Groove and soul.

#original poem #original writing #original poetry

[softyarnball]

Confucianism runs deep

My dad is always frustrated with how my mom’s side treats him. As you all know, he chooses and remains a lowly public worker all his life. Now I can find the answers in the outdated Confucianism.

On my mother’s side, my grandma is the oldest daughter in the family. She had to leave school when she just finished Primary school because my great grandparents were so poor that they cannot support all the 5 kids they had. Or at least I am told so. And read so in my grandma’s family’s book.

Currently, I just found out that my great grandparents were not too poor. My grandpa had a pretty well-paid job in Shell, the oil and gas company. That company was pretty generous that all his kids could go to pre-K there. But not all his kids went. Only the son, my grand uncle. Now that I know that, it could be that in order for my grand uncle to have a proper education, my grandma was cut from it and be little Cinderella in the kitchen. The next siblings, my grand aunts were able to go to college, too. The last one was married to a wealthy family so she never has to know what labor is.

My great grandparents’ decision cruelly put my grandma in the very bottom of the Confucian ladder: the trader, while her three other siblings were the educated. That did not only affect her ability to marry into a good household, but also affect her children’s lives. My mom was a bright kid. She could talk when she was 8 months old; she got into the best class of the school (think advance placement). Her friends were all from the educated class. But she chose trade over education, because she saw how trade helped my grandma out financially (my grandma is a single mom). No one encouraged her to go to college whatsoever. What could my grandma know?

Of course, lives of my grandma’s siblings’ children were much much better in terms of education. Except for one, all of my mom’s cousins whose parents were college educated did go to college. That’s why they considered themselves the elite, the learned, the higher class. In fact, as I mention earlier, they’re just some mediocre people with sheer luck and privilege. All went very well, until I came along. Then my first cousin. Then my brother. 

We all went to the best middle school in the city, then the best high school in the South, attending colleges that I doubt that my grand aunts and grand uncle’ grand kids can ever go to. My brother’s college is not so much but he’s trying hard. That’s a story for another time. Only my grandma’s grandkids can do these kinds of stuff.

My self-claimed elite relatives always look down on my grandma’s family. They didn’t think high of me and my cousin until the moment we broke all records. Now thinking back, I learned about all of the contempt from that side of the family from my dad. I have never experienced that, because they are afraid of me, because I could be the higher class. My dad is so naive not to see all of this Confucian crap they’ve been drugged on for decades.

My cousin, my brother, and I should be thankful that we are from the trade-farmer family (my dad is from a farmer family). We should be thankful that we know the hardship, the struggle of being the firsts and strive to be the bests without much parental academic guidance. More than that, this family teaches me to like money. I like new clothes and nice dinner. Thus, I chose Trade. My college, which is specialized in business, actually has “TRADE” in its name lol. My cousin did the same thing. Although he couldn’t go to my college, he also attends a very good one. I felt relieved that he did so because my prestigious college is full of crap. My brother, because of my pressure on my parents, and also because of the budget, is coming to realize the value of money. 

Why is that important? Because Confucianism told my second uncles and aunts to pursue science, the science that the Soviet starved their people to death. Now that the scientist second aunts and uncles don’t have much money, they have to rely on their parents, their inheritance for wealth, and sometimes stipends. Well, that’s a little bit unfair considering the income trap in Vietnam, but still, they could have been richer if they were not so contemptuous towards the trade people.

I hope they’ve come to realization now. I often heard them talk trash about their children’s in-laws. Too poor. Too low-class. Even better, too contemptuous. lololol. That made my dad and me laugh so hard. Of course, my marriage prospective is also better than the ‘scientists.’ After all, I am indeed the one who has access to the elite class. Same holds for my cousin and brother. We all were/are friends with someone who is extremely rich/educated/highest class of all the class. We didn’t care too much tho. We are comfortable with who we are. America even teaches us to be proud of being the first generation. Thanks, America!

Sexism in Confucianism

Women must obey their father. Once gets married, obey their husbands. Once husband dies, obey their son(s).

Daughters are not the family’s daughters. They are their in-laws’ daughters.

Classism in Confucianism

The Confucian Vietnam considers the five classes in order of preference: the educated (madarins, poets, novelists, scientists, etc.), the farmers, the factory/corporate workers (I cannot find a better word), and the trade people.

#ironyinmyfamily #misogyny #sexism #classism

[wornoutmouse]

I don’t know how to ask you this bestie 😩… But if you write incest do you mind doing one where all might’s daughter has a crush on Endeavor? And they both smash her… Feel free to make it stepcest if that’s more comfortable 🥲

DON’T BESTIE ME YOU FREAK!!!!-

Anyways, congrats on being my FIRST controversial ask. That being said, it took me a while to figure out whether or not I would write this one 🤔. Of course, this will be one of the ones I won’t be able to post on Wattpad lmao, but I’ll give it a go!

If you didn’t already read the request, I will give you the necessary warnings again.

tw: incest….. never thought this day would come, dp

Author's annual moral PSA: I would hope I wouldn't have to tell yall I don't condone this irl. This is both illegal in many states, and in all ways an abuse of power and trust. Not to mention no one should look at their family members in this way and if it has happened to you don't be ashamed of it as it is not your fault but seek help because it is dangerous in the long run. This is for pure fantasy purposes

You are not underage in this fic. I never do underaged work.

There is way too much plot in this

Your cheeks were stretched wide enough to rival your fathers’ as you ran home. Your feet bounce and your pull at your braids nervously as you look out the window of the train, the excitement you felt made you restless to get home. Your neighbors watched you as you ran by, dents caused by your shoes hitting the pavement as your quirk flowed through your pumping blood. “Dad!”

You slam your front door open and scramble through the labyrinth of your rich home. Tossing open your father’s office door unaware of how your outburst startles All Might. “Y-Yes what is it?” Papers flutter all around as you carelessly glide through Toshinori’s neatly stacked papers. You slam the slightly crumpled papers onto his desk, ignoring how the sheer strength of your hand nearly causes his cold cup of coffee to fall. “Remember how 3rd years get the chance to have the first pick in finding the company they’ll sidekick for?!”

All Might watches you with fondness in his eyes as he cleans his glasses off. He was now far in his years, a healthy 82. His hair was now less of a golden yellow and more of beige as it silvered slowly. He was still his normal towering height, retained much of his muscles, and could periodically assume his big form now that he finally had the time to rest and heal properly. “You mean the program that you talked about every day because it was free.”

You roll your eyes, “Free for me, not for you. Anyways look, look, look!” You hold the paper in his face and he takes it from you, “I see you were accepted into your first choice at-” You snatch the paper from him and hop around excitedly, “-At Endevā Jimusho And that’s not even the best part!” All Might's contempt face drops, “All sidekicks get to stay in a guest house in close quarters with Endeavor himself!!"

Joy no longer existed in Toshinori's emotional library. "Absolutely not." Your face falls and your rant halts completely. "What?" Yagi puts his glasses on and shuffles through his papers stiffly, "I do not agree on Endeavors training methods." You raise an eyebrow, "Is this coming from the man that punched Pro-Hero Dynamite and Deku into buildings during an emergency villain drill? In front of everyone?"

Yagi hides his face behind a stapled packet, "I was giving them a taste of reality, a villain does not care for a hero's well-being." You sit down on his desk, legs crossed before curling your finger over his paper, your eyes miss how AllMight briefly glances down, “Yes, but isn’t it a job as a hero to protect people, even the students they train?” Yagi craned his neck until it makes a satisfying crack, a smirk adorning his lips. “I suppose you are right.”

He thinks for a moment before silently shuffling his papers before returning his gaze to your hopeful face, “Why should I assist you with your obvious little crush on my coworker?” You clearly stiffen “Well if it will make you happy-” You don’t allow him to finish before your arms around his shoulders squeezing his neck with most of your strength.

AllMight watches you leave his room slightly disheartened, reaching into his desk drawer he pulls out his phone and dials. “What do you want?” AllMight leans back in his chair pulling at his pants to loosen the tension in his groin, “A proposition.”

The next day Yagi is driving you to your new home for the next 6 months. Your eyes glaze over with futuristic thoughts on how your stay would be. “Everything is so shiny!” Yagi shrugs as he pulls into the parking lot. Enji was always minimalistic when it came to modern designs.” Your head snaps to Toshinori’s side of the car, “His name is Enji!?” Your question is laughed off as Toshinori shuts the car off.

Although your amazement is captured solely by the prospect of working with a pro-hero, the fact that your father is a pro-hero does not go unnoticed by the people around you. “Is that AllMight!” “Should I ask for his picture?!” Even with Yagi’s shadow enveloping your body your attention hones in on the automatic glass doors in front of you.

Inside there is a crowd of students experiencing orientation and getting assigned their respective dorm and possible roommate. You take your first steps in their direction before your arm is pulled and Yagi dawns a playful grin as he presses his finger to his lips. You follow him, eyebrows furrowed “You aren’t trying to change my mind are you?” You don’t get an answer as you are dragged along.

Stairs after stair you follow your father until you come to the very top, legs throbbing but interest peaked. Yagi opens two double doors as easily as breathing and your eyes go wide as the broad shoulders of a familiar hero come into view. “You’re finally here, took you long enough.” Your heart beats in your chest, auburn hair, broad shoulders, and a stoic face that you’d only seen on television, now present in front of you. Yagi shuts the door causing you to jump, “Oh um hi!” A large hand touches your shoulder making you jump” Calm down Y/n!” A cheerful exclamation rings out from above you as Yagi transforms into his larger form.

Heavy footsteps make the room shake wherever the two men walk around the room, “I heard you wanted to meet with me.” Your demeanor goes from uneasy to panicked giggling, “O-Oh really, who told you that!’ AllMight chuckles before patting your head, why don’t you ask him all the silly questions you want, I have to use the restroom.

Endeavor leans against his desk, arms crossed allowing his muscles to bulge through his white button-up shirt. “Yagi tells me a lot of good things about you.” Endeavor stands straighter, a ballpoint pen in hand before he gestures for you to take a seat. You settle in the seat glancing towards the door before looking up at Endeavor who settles on his desk. “What’s the matter, you seem nervous?” The deepness of his tone sends a shiver down your spine. Shifting your legs closer together you clear your throat, “I’m just not used to meeting my childhood hero in person.” Endeavor laughs in a way that sounds more like a bellow, “When you say it like that I feel old!”

Your face hadn’t stopped burning since you entered the room but the joke forced a chuckle through your lips allowing you to relax just a little bit. Calculating eyes narrow, making you feel even smaller than you already did in the hero’s presence. “Now, come on. I’m sure you have something you’d always wanted to do if you met your hero.” Endeavor’s happy-go-lucky attitude catches you off guard as it juxtaposes the hardened persona he had cultivated over the years. “Well, I suppose a picture would be a start if you don’t mind?”

Seconds later you somehow find yourself in Endeavor's lap as he holds the camera up for a picture. His body is unpainted hot but you assume that was simply just a side effect of his quirk. “Um, are you sure you’re okay with this?” Endeavor hums in acceptance. A heavy arm loops around your waist pulling you closer, close enough to become aware of a problem pressed gently against your ass. “Oh!” Endeavor’s fingers slipped pressing the capture button, “What’s wrong did I do it wrong?” You shake your head becoming embarrassed for the both of you, “Nothing!” Enji’s voice lowers into a mumble that reverberated against the back of your neck, “Good.”

Enji straightens his arm once more to retake the picture and you awkwardly smile into the camera, grin becoming strained when he had yet to snap the photo. You shuffle the slightest bit to get a more comfortable position and a guttural groan is released from Enji’s lips. "Are you alright, Endeavor?" Your question is ignored and your phone is put down on the table. Large hands contrasting unbridled power is your stomach delicately as though you were made of porcelain. "Are you sure there is nothing else you'd like to do with your hero?"

Endeavors face nudges away your braids allowing him to press his heated mouth against your skin. "Nothing that would help you get to know them better?" You don't get to respond, your body is hoisted around to face Endeavor. Why nervousness clearly painting itself on your features before being overcome with confused pleasure as Endeavor pressed his lips against your own.

You moan against his lips, hips grinding against each other, the thought of where you are slipped past your mind and to your pussy. Endeavors hands down your body, pinching and pulling before sighing with his calloused fingernails. You couldn't believe this was happening, you feel your pants being pulled off. Just yesterday you believed that you would only be able to meet your hero in passing. Your bra is on the floor and your pussy weeps against his slacks.

The motions are fast-paced and you feel his thumb pressing against your clit. “Yes!” Endeavor kisses your lips, his stubble scratching your cheeks slightly as his tongue explores your mouth. Confidence floods your body as you hop off of Endeavor's lap and quickly undo the buttons of his slacks, he watches you out of breath in the best way.

Thick in your hands, the veins twitch to the tune of his blood. The clear stickiness of pre-cum coats the underside and you use it to stroke his length. "Please fuck me Endeavor!" You look up at him, face contorted with desperate thoughts as you angle your body towards his cock, the tip of it rubbing against your folds. You were wet, so wet making the fuchsia tip of his cock feel more engorged.

"Don't regret this. "You’re pulled back into his lap with ease, pussy trembling from the display of strength. With Endeavor holding your weight and your hand positioning his length below you, the slide down was easy as it could be. Your legs wrap around his waist as you adjust to him. “We have to be quick.” Endeavor rolls your hips when your breathing becomes even again, “We have all the time in the world.” You smirk trailing your finger up Enji’s chest, “What, you have a thing for getting caught?”

Your cheeks are spread apart by Endeavor’s fingers as he hooks one into the small slit left remaining in your pussy. “Something like that.” From behind you the sound of the door shutting makes your neck quickly craned around to look back. Standing with his arms behind his back and an unreadable expression stood Yagi, “Am I missing the party?” Ashamed excuses leave your mouth, tearful and panicked you squeal when Endeavor raises your hips before sliding you down his cock. “No, you are just in time.”

Yagi slowly removes the suit he wore, shrugging off his suit jacket as the sound of your muffled whimpers filter through his ears. You hide your face, curling into Endeavor’s form but a hand stops you, gripping your face, “Don’t be shy, it was his idea after all.” AllMight chuckled, “Yeah, it took a lot of convincing on my part.”Long fingers wrapped around the base of your skull where your braids connect before yanking your head back.

Toshinori looked down at you, face stoic and mockingly disappointed, "I thought it would take a lot more convincing but look at you. " Yagi dragged the back of his hand around your jaw and down your chest ripping the fabric with ease. Your tits bounced on every thrust that Endeavor continued to make, wordless moans and drool leaving your moan as your pussy clenched around the cock inside you.

"Such a little whore for him aren't you?" You shake your head in protest before your eyes widen as chapped but soft lips are placed over yours. He was kissing you, your brain short circuits as his tongue forces its way past your lips. It's wrong, you know that. Hell, this whole situation is wrong. You should be downstairs with the others doing orientation, not upstairs riding the cock of a pro-hero and french kissing the other. You knew it was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

Endeavor groans at how sloppy you were becoming. The sound of your pussy squelching as cream gathered around Endeavor's cock before being pushed back inside of you. "So both of you are twisted in the head." A large thumb presses down on your clit making your pussy spasm as you cum from the heightened stimulation. Endeavor keeps thrusting, his libido unmatched and energy pent up.

Yagi reaches in between the two of you pressing his palm against your pussy as his fingertips graze Enji’s dick on every upstroke. “Are you getting wetter sweetheart? He feels so good doesn't he?" Your mouth is agape and your weak hands Endeavor's shoulder is the only thing keeping you upright when your eyes roll back. "Y-Yes daddy!" Yagi wheezes before he's fiddling with his suit pants and pulling you back by your hair.

It was a strange display of balance on your end. Endeavor’s arms hold your legs tightly in order to keep you on his lap and on his cock meanwhile you are as your father slaps his hardened cock against your cheek, splashing his precum onto your chin. "I got you this far dear, why don't you return the favor?"

Whether it was diluted senses or your subconscious coming forward, you open your mouth for him, moaning as he invades every crevice of your jaw. Your throat constricts and you retch around the warm heat. Yagi is unapologetic and downright brutal as he pulls back before bringing his hips forward again.

The two men's moans empty into the office room and your garbled cooking is ignored as they both have their fill, leaving you to wonder if this really was for you. Numbness invaded your senses as you come again on Endeavor's cock with him not that far behind as he blows his load into your pussy. "It's been a while I will admit." Endeavor slaps your pussy once, then twice just to feel you squeeze down on him every time your hips jerked.

Tears and drool running down your face the faster your father fucks your throat and you knew you'd be sore the next day. "My turn." All Might pulls out and walks away not even showing you a glance as you choke from the lack of oxygen. Enji helps you sit up and wipes your face before Toshinori is pulling you away from Endeavor showing no care that his cock was still in you. He sits down and pulls you onto his own lap ignoring your dazed look as your brain struggles with the various changes of attitude.

"You gotta thank daddy for helping you meet your hero, don't you think?” His hand cups your round cheeks before the other slams down on the other one. Overestimated tears tremble down your brown skin as you hiccup, "Yes daddy." You rock against his cock, both your saliva and his own precum staining your stomach and public hair.

He fills you, even better than Endeavor did, and begins his onslaught of thrusts. You scream, the sound no doubt traveling outside the room, "Daddy please fuck me!!!" The speed at which you were moving was one that could only be done by a hero and it was more pain than pleasure. The constant pounding of your cervix makes your teeth clench together each time his mushroom head punches it.

"Yes, give daddy this sloppy pussy, squeeze down for me-oh fuck!" Lewd words you never even believed Yagi was capable of saying leave his lips. Your shoulder is bit by the redheaded man behind you as he cups your breasts together, tugging on your nipple before rubbing the nubbed patterns on your areolas. "I can't take it any more daddy please!" Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he causes your pussy to queen and cream, balls slapping the underside of your ass, sticky with Endeavor’s cum.

"This is what you raised Yagi? A little whore?" Yagi chuckles, "I'm just as surprised as you are Enji, say why don't you join? You aren't one and done are you?" Endeavor scoffs, you wish that upon me don't you?"

Your mind, altered with lust, does not understand the hidden meaning behind the word "join" but you soon realize it when fat fingers are pushing their way in the same hole Toshinori occupied. "E-Endeavor?" You're shushed as his fingers pump inside you with Yagi’s cock, curling and prodding your walls at every turn. You feel fuller than you ever thought you could and the pressure only continued.

"Look at my pretty little girl taking her daddy's cock, so fucking tight for me. Can you do this for Endeavor too? Fit both our fat cocks in your hero guzzling hole?" You nod at the degradation and feel the warmth from Endeavor envelope your back. His tip massages the stretched opening as Yagi stops thrusting for a moment.

There is silence, and then there is pain. You hardly feel the initial penetration of Enji’s cock, but you do feel it when Yagi tries to move again. You can hardly breathe between the sandwich the 3 of you created and your comfort is practically ignored as they both begin to move at opposite tempos. “O-oh god!” With your eyes screwed shut and mouth agape the two men grunt against your ears.

Your g-spot and cervix are both pushed against as their thrusts become more impersonal. Endeavor grabs your arms from around Yagi’s neck before pulling them behind your back. Your legs tremble uselessly around Toshinori’s thighs. His breath huffing the more he exerted himself steam easily slipping from his lips the faster he went. “I’m gonna cum!” Endeavor grunts, pistoning out of you even faster than he was before. A hand rests on his shoulder and he’s shoved back making you whimper from the partial emptiness. “Not inside bastard.”

Yagi becomes his gental self again as his still hard cock slips from your entrance. He places you on the ground giving you time to prop yourself up before grabiing his dick and stroking it infront of your face. You are to fucked out to do anything but present yourself as a pretty little canvas as his cum paints your face. You lick the small drops painting your chin before flashing a coy smile, “Thank you Daddy!”

#tw: inc*st #endeavor smut #all might smut #endeavor x all might x reader #mha smut #problimatic works #mha x black reader

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 2

Summary: While marriage was the last thing he’d want, especially with his enemies’ daughter, the Darkling isn’t above playing dirty to get what he wants. But his wish for a wedding night turns sour once he realizes his bride is anything but a weak human.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual references

Part one   

===========================

Walking down a hall, Y/N felt her heart drop as they neared a room meant for them. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized Darkling’s faithful Grisha followed them every step of the way.

Stopping moments before she walked into her now husband, Y/N turned on her heel. With a smile believable to anyone with an outsider’s perspective, she folded her hands before her abdomen.

“Did you guys enjoy the wedding?” Her voice is light, cheerful even. It felt odd, enough for Kirigan’s eyes to narrow at Ivan and Fedyor who replied simultaneously.

“Yes.” “No.”

Chuckling, she raised her eyebrows, “Well, did you both attend the same wedding?”

Swallowing thickly, Fedyor decided to speak for Ivan who was still disgruntled nearly as much as Kirigan.

“The wedding was perfect and you were a vision.”

Humming, she nods, “I’m glad it wasn’t a waste of time for you as it was for me. Good evening.” Turning her back on their flabbergasted faces, Y/N lifted her chin before entering the room on her own.

She could hear Kirigan’s annoyed sigh as he dismissed his Grisha, but the sound of the doors closing truly rattled her insides. Looking to him, she held her breath to stop a shuddered one from escaping her.

"I understand it's not what you expected", he smiled frostily. "I had plans that didn't include you either. But I suppose we'll both have to make do."

She scoffed, narrowing her eyes, "Make do?"

It was their wedding night, doors shut with no witnesses and the marriage arranged for the two of them felt like a noose tied around her neck. She swallows thickly, hyper aware of the bed dominating the room behind her and her hands, wrapped in each other behind her back have begun to tremble.

The general she married leaned back against the door, looking her up and down with a smile of slow appreciation. "Well, you are mine now."

"I may be tied to you by state laws, but I am not yours", she spat.

"No", he smirked, "Not yet." He peels away from the doors, stepping closer. He takes off his black kefta, draping it on a chair. Beginning to unbutton his black, silk shirt, the General looked at her as if she were a caged bird meant for his amusement.

"There are some traditions for tonight", he took one step toward her as he hummed.

"Are you familiar with the word defenestration?" She raised her voice ever so slightly, refusing to step back in fright. He does not get to challenge her and win. Not now, not ever. She does not draw back in a fight, her father taught her so.

"No", he raised an eyebrow, unsure what she means.

"If you come anywhere close to me", she growled out, "I will make sure you find out first hand."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss a good time", he purred, coming closer.

"Oh please, my heel is bigger than your dick."

Raising his eyebrows, the Darkling nearly scoffed at her confidence in this matter. "How can you be so sure when you've never even seen it?"

"No man with anger like yours could ever have something in his pants worth my time."

"You are my wife, are you not?" He narrowed his eyes at her and she rolled hers in contempt.

"Unfortunately."

"Glad you're aware of it", he licks his lips, "Means we're on the same page."

"Same page? We're not even in the same book!"

Those eyes of hers, as fierce and unperturbed by anything he did, could swallow stars and galaxies and universes. As far as he's concerned, she did for he could see them all mirrored in the defiance she locked her gaze onto his with.

"This", he whispers aggressively. "You", he presses closer until his lips are but a faint inhale away from hers, "Are mine. He gazes down at her, gauging her reaction, his eyes burning.

"You're a demon", she speaks through gritted teeth. "I don't trust demons, I don't lay with demons", she pushed against his chest with both her hands, "All you do is destroy."

"I’d say the same thing about you, human."

Rolling her eyes at him, she refuses to relent. Her body is tense, her neck aching from looking up at his dark presence she would not bend before. She isn’t a horse to be broken, she’s a soldier, her father’s daughter.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He grumbled, his lips nearly brushing against hers and she noticed.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized just how close he is, “I’m hoping you’ll combust spontaneously.”

Raising an eyebrow, a cold smile forms on his lips, “Ah, how cute. But you’re no Inferni.”

“I’m better”, she brought her knee up so swiftly he didn’t see it coming. As her knee collided right between his legs, Kirigan bent over, bellowing in pain.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” He growled with fury, struggling to straighten up. Forced to look up at the smug smile upon her lush, rosy lips, Kirigan never felt more enraged by a woman before.

“I do.” Shrugging, she sat at the bottom of the bed. “I just don’t fucking care. You don’t scare me.”

His gaze felt like fire, setting every inch of her skin aflame and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was hate or lust that burned so bright within him….within her. Either way, she knew she’d be teasing him like this every day if it meant he’d look at her like that. She always did like playing with fire, Inferni or not, and Kirigan just made himself an easy target.

On one knee, he gripped the sheets in an attempt to pull himself up, yet all he could do is groan and clutch his groin.

Gripping his chin, she locked her gaze on him with an unforgivable disobedience. “I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. I’m not a dutiful wife who desperately seeks your attention. I’m a general’s daughter. I was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips.” Turning his head to the door, she leans in and whispers in his ear. “And now you can leave while your manhood is still relatively untouched.”

“I could kill you for this”, the Darkling threatens, wishing he could wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze the resistance out of her along with her life.

“I’d like to see you try”, she sneered. Standing abruptly, she turned her back on him.

Sitting with his back against the doorframe, Darkling glared at her with burning passion – for vengeance, of course. While he assumed she’d be difficult, he didn’t presume her to be as strong-willed. A part of him was certain she’d cave once he turned on his charm, but she never allowed him to.

Noticing her hand movement, he quickly realized she’s unbuttoning her kefta as well. In seconds, his eyes widen as she slips the kefta off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. Nothing but a sheer gown hugs her body so tightly, the Darkling felt his breath stop in his throat.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on him, “Do you have no manners?”

She kept her eyes locked on his as she turned, opened her gown and slipped it from her shoulders, exposing her body to him. In his eyes appeared a mix of hunger and desire in such intensity that she was both excited and frightened.

“I’m the only one allowed to look at you, that’s a right you can’t strip me of.”

In time it takes for a heartbeat to echo in her ears, the Darkling stood before her. She took a shuddering breath as he gathered her into his embrace.

“Are you planning on forcing yourself onto me?” Y/N’s jaw clenched as her nostrils flare.

Pressing his lips together, his dark eyes narrow in disbelief, “Do you honestly believe me to be so evil?”

Speaking through gritted teeth, she remarks, “Yes.”

Nodding, her purses his lips. Raising his hands in mock surrender, Kirigan moves away from her. He straightens his back, finishing unbuttoning his shirt until the end – just before he lets it fall to the ground.

She swallows thickly, refusing to look anywhere below his chin. For a moment, she could have sworn a flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but she blamed the candlelight for the deceit. There is nothing good, nothing human in general Kirigan. He cannot feel hurt and she refused to let him past her defenses. She will not feel for him, she will not fall for him. He’s a task she had to manage, nothing more.

Unzipping his pants, he took the rest of his clothes off.

Her eyes flicker to his middle as he heads to the bed, realizing he’s wearing undergarments.

Relieved, Y/N opened the drawers, finding herself a proper nightgown to cover herself with. Once her body was no longer open to his view, she looked to him with pursed lips.

“I will not touch you”, he rolls his eyes, “But we are married. Might as well make the rest of the world believe the arrangement is somewhat functional.”

Looking at the door, she contemplated leaving. Sharing a bed with someone, anyone, was intimate. It required trust, love, a sense of safety and loyalty she certainly didn’t share with Kirigan.

“If you choose to leave, it will be all they talk about it the morning”, Darkling warns her and she huffs.

“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll be seeing you at the end of the altar once more. But in a casket during your funeral”, she glares at him and he can’t help but chuckle at her words.

He watched her settle in the bed, beside him. Placing a pillow between them seemed rather odd, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he half expected her to make an attempt on his life on their wedding night. He still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.

“Sweet dreams, wife”, he smiled as she blew out the candle and the darkness settled in. He always felt comfortable in the dark.

She never felt comfortable in darkness, but he’d never know. She would be brave from now on – she wouldn’t bend, break or bow to anyone.

“I hope your dreams are filled with Volcra”, she snapped before turning on her side, further away from him.

Eventually, despite her initial distrust for the man, Y/N fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. She shifted in her sleep, throwing her leg over Kirigan’s, her hair twisting round and round his arm.

But the Darkling did not fall asleep immediately. She moved against him and snuggled closer. Even though she wouldn’t come close to him awake, she reached for him in her sleep. She wanted him nearby and it drew a smile to his lips. Catching himself smiling, the Darkling sat up in distress.

She may be appealing, but he cannot get attached to her. Ever.

His heart beats loudly, deafening so, his mind unable to slow down even for a moment. How could he fall asleep when he knew this angel beside him was simply a devil in disguise?

She’s a human – daughter of his enemy. Once she serves her purpose, the Darkling knew what he had to do. Turning her back on her side, he fixes the pillow in the middle. She’s a human, fleeting, he’s eternal and he will not allow himself the weakness of caring for someone like her.

Just as his mind drifts, he feels an arm wrap around him and he tenses up, eyes opening wide. “Fuck.”

Tags: @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​

PART 3

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader