#Lemon tarts - names | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queers-gambit · 4 months

Text

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

538 notes · View notes

najia-cooks · 6 months

Text

[ID: A greenish-brown soup with an herb garnish in a bowl surrounded by a halved lemon, green cardamom pods, and bay leaves, followed by a close-up of the same soup. End ID]

شوربة الفريكة / Shorabat al-frika (Green wheat soup)

Frika (فَرِيكَة or فَرِيك; also transliterated "freekeh," "frikeh," or "farik"‎) is durum wheat harvested in the early spring, while the grain is green, unripe, and tender. Durum wheat, or semolina, is a different species of wheat than that which is ground to produce all-purpose flour (common wheat, or bread wheat); it is used to make couscous (كُسْكُس), bulghur (بلغور), and many types of pasta, and is widely consumed in North Africa, the Levant, and the Arabian peninsula. After harvest, unripe durum is sun-dried and then set ablaze in piles to burn off the straw and leave just the heads of wheat, resulting in a nutty, smoky flavor; the heads are then vigorously rubbed, traditionally by hand, to remove the bran. Frika is named after this last process; the word comes from the verb "فَرَكَ" "faraka," "to rub."

A staple in Palestine, shorabat al-frika (with diacritics, Levantine pronunciation: شُورَبَة الفْرِيكَة) is often eaten as an appetizer with the fast-breaking meal during Ramadan. It may contain nothing more than an onion, olive oil, frika, and water, but sometimes contains meat (usually chicken, but also beef or lamb), green chili peppers, and spices including cardamom, black pepper, bay leaves, turmeric, cumin, and seb'a baharat; some people today like to add chickpeas. Shorabat al-frika is often prepared with the chicken broth obtained by boiling chicken to make musakhkhan (مُسَخَّن), and served alongside it. It is a warming, filling, and earthy soup, with a complexity of flavor imparted by the frika itself: a fresh tartness due to the unripe grain, and a roasted aroma due to its harvesting process.

Shorabat al-frika is in keeping with a Palestinian food ethos of using simple, local ingredients to their fullest potential. Frika itself is sometimes thought to symbolize adaptability and resilience, as it was often eaten in times of scarcity when other crops were not yet ready to be harvested. Legend holds that it was discovered in a time of similar necessity: when villagers in the eastern Mediterannean tried to salvage a field of wheat that had been burned by ambushing soldiers, they found that the grain was still edible beneath the blackened chaff, having been saved from the fire by its moisture.

Frika, due to its centuries as a staple in Palestine, has also come to symbolize acceptance, Palestinian history, and connection to the land and community. In the Palestinian diaspora and amongst internally displaced people in Palestine, food is conceived of as a form of connection to homeland across distance; continuing to make Palestinian food, and remembering or using baladi ("native," "from my country") varieties of grains, produce, and herbs, is a link to the land and an expression of the hope to return.

By the same token, though, frika has come to represent Palestinian displacement and "cultural obliteration," per Rana Abdulla. One of the ways in which Israel rhetorically justifies its existence is by claiming sole ownership of an old, organically arising culture rooted in the land: the easiest way to do this is, of course, to rebrand what was already there. Food connects and combines language (in terminology and pronunciation), culture, history, climate, and land into one web of discourses, and is therefore a prime site for colonial myth-making and ideological nation-building. Thus a construction such as "Israeli freekeh" is, in fact, an intensely political one.

Nevertheless, frika continues its life as a symbol of connection, community, and resistance during adversity in Palestine. Nasser Abufarha, of the Palestine Fair Trade Association, noted in 2015 that more and more Palestinians across the West Bank were harvesting some of their wheat early to make frika, rather than relying on cheaper, imported rice. As of October 23 2023, and in defiance of an Israeli air raid which destroyed their kitchen in 2014, Jamil Abu Assi and his cousins were using frika, alongside lentils and rice, as staples in distributing food to thousands of refugees per day in Bani Suhaila, near Khan Younis. Others in the community donated ingredients or volunteered to distribute meals.

Support Palestinian resistance by contributing to Palestine Action's bail fund or to Palestine Legal's defence fund, or by attending court or making a sign to support the Elbit Eight.

Ingredients:

1 cup (170g) frika baladia (فريكة بلدية), Levantine frika

4 cups water, or vegetarian chicken stock from concentrate

1 large yellow onion, chopped

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 green chili pepper (فلفل أخضر حار), sliced (optional)

1/2 tsp ground black pepper (فلفل اسود)

5 cardamom pods (حب هال)

2 Mediterannean bay leaves (ورق غار)

250g chicken (or beef) substitute, torn or cubed (optional)

Salt, to taste

Parsley, to garnish

Halved lemon, to serve (optional)

I have kept the spices relatively simple, as most cooks do, to highlight the earthy end of the taste spectrum and to allow the flavor of the frika itself to come forward. Most people add at least cardamom and black pepper; many add bay leaves to this duo; turmeric is the next most common addition I have come across. I have seen a few people add cumin, coriander, or allspice.

Frika can be found in the grains section of your local halal grocery store (labelled "فريكة", “فريك" "freekeh" or "frikeh"). Look for something that specifies “roasted.”

You may also be able to find frika at a speciality or health foods grocery store, but it might not have been fire-roasted as it is in the Levant. If your frika doesn't smell toasty, try roasting it in a dry pan on medium-heat for a few minutes until fragrant.

Frika may be found whole, cracked, or fine (نَاعِمَة‎ / na'ima). You may use any kind for this soup; most people use cracked or fine frika, because of its shorter cooking time. You can pulse whole frika a few times in a food processor or spice mill, until coarsely ground, if you prefer a fine texture but can't find fine frika.

Instructions:

1. Heat olive oil in a large pot on medium. Add onion, a pinch of salt, cardamom pods, and bay leaves and fry, stirring occasionally, until the onion is golden brown.

2. Add the chili pepper and cook briefly until softened.

3. Add frika and black pepper and roast, stirring occasionally, for a few minutes until fragrant.

4. Add the water or stock and stir to combine. Bring to a fast simmer and cook, covered, about 50 minutes for whole frika and 20 minutes for ground, until fully cooked. Add additional water as necessary. The frika will still be chewy at the end of the cooking time.

5. Fry meat substitute of your choice in olive oil with salt, black pepper, and a optionally a pinch of Palestinian seven-spice, until browned. Add to soup and stir to combine. Taste the soup and add salt and more black pepper, if necessary.

6. Garnish with whole or chopped parsley and serve warm.

The meat is usually added to this soup just after the onions, and simmered along with the frika. You can do it this way if you like, but I have never found simmering to do the texture of meat substitutes any favors.

#Palestinian #Levantine #chicken #frika #freekeh #farik #cooking

492 notes · View notes

lazybutsmexy · 7 months

Text

Tea

Simón "Ghost" Riley X GN!reader

Warnings: ANGST, hurt no comfort, mayor character death(s).

A/N: is... is this what I chose as my comeback? I'm sorry, I hope to be able to write something fluffy soon.

Read on AO3

"...Ghost?"

"...Yeah?"

Your eyes are locked to the sky. The hues of gray that prelude an autumn shower used to comfort you. Strangely enough, what's most comforting to you at this moment is hearing your Lieutenant's voice answer you back, from somewhere to your left.

"...I have a confession to make."

"...Go on."

You inch your head sideways, trying to peek a glance at his face, but the stiffness of your neck prevent you from doing so. Maybe it's for the best. From the corner of your eye you can see part of his hip and his right leg, over a carpet of dark red that you don't need a creative imagination to think about its nature, or its origin.

You saw him get shot.

"I'm the one that took your last tea bag," you offer, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd get so grumpy about it."

A low sigh reaches your ears, and you can catch the hint of an almost imperceptible stutter in his breathing.

"...Never suspected you," he hums, every word calculated as if it could be his last -it may as well be, "you don't drink tea."

"No, I don't," you agree, "but you do." Your lower lip gets caught in between your teeth once again, as it has happened for the last few- minutes? Hours? Who knows anymore? "I wanted to surprise you with-... with a cuppa when we got to t-the safehouse..."

You clearly should've followed his example and kept your sentences short, you think as your diaphragm painfully struggles to keep your lungs filled with oxygen.

"...You make shit tea though," he grumbled - now you can clearly hear the wheeze hidden in his breathing.

"... would've made it wi' luv," your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you try not to think of the amount of time you've gradually lost sensation in your body. Instead, you try to peek at him again as you hear a slow ruffle of movement, and this time an ungloved hand comes to your field of vision.

Open face up. Inviting.

You don't think twice and muster whatever little strength you have in your body to move your left hand closer to his.

If the struggle makes you tear up, you don't care. If your pained whimpers break his heart, he doesn't comment on it.

He just grasps your hand as soon as there's skin-on-skin contact, thankful that there's still warmth on your fingers.

Fading, but still there.

"...Didn't say... I wouldn't drink it."

"...Yer' too kind, sir..." Your ears feel like padded in cotton, but you can still hear yourself. If you had any energy - or air in your lungs - you would laughed at how much you started sounding like Soap. "...'s an hon'r to be wi' you, Lt..."

Several seconds passed in silence, and you think you won't get any more answers, and mentally prepare yourself to close your eyes one last time.

But there's something happening with your hand in his.

One squeeze.

Pause.

Another squeeze.

And a last one.

"... waited too long to tell you," his voice reaches you again, watery and choked up, " hope tis' works..."

Go figure, you still had tears to shed. Or is it the rain droplets finally landing on your skin? You don't know. You don't care.

You try to reciprocate, but can only apply three soft squeezes with the pads of your thumb on the soft muscle between his thumb and index fingers.

The choked up sob you hear is a good guess that he received your reply.

"...'m sleepy," your whisper reaches him, and he mourns the lost time.

He's never void of regrets, isn't he?

"...g'night, luv," he tries to sound warm to you, always.

"...g'night, Simon..."

Oh, how sweet his name sounds, coming from your lips in a whisper.

Taglist: @warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring

Join the taglist here

Masterlist

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #gn reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod angst #simon ghost riley angst #... sorry😔

689 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 2 months

Text

ACTION!

author's note. first fic of the event!!! thank u so so much @slytherinshua for making this cute banner<3

genre. crack, fluff, coffee shop au, non-idol

word count. 1048

summary. movie major!vernon decides to confess to you, lead by an impulse (and a rush of caffeine)

as creepy as it sounds, vernon has been watching you. not in a stalker way, of course, but it just so happened that you both liked the same cafe.

and you shared the same classes, like literature. and you both attended the movie club. and! he sometimes saw you on the gym when he went to accompany work out with mingyu.

he realised this a while ago – he has a serious crush on you.

he adored the way you always painted your nails with a glittery nail polish, the way your h/c hair fell on your arms perfectly. you also had amazing taste – not only he loved your fashion style but also during the club discussion about movies, he realised you both share the same taste in movies. and tropes… and favorite directors.

or when, like right now, you chewed on a straw while your gaze was stuck in your laptop. the almost coal-black coffee looked sweet as hell when you drank it.

letting out a deep sigh you put the plastic cup away and rested your chin on your hand, looking out of the window to observe passers-by. the pleasant chatter of the people inside the cafe made it really easy to space out.

vernon failed to notice that he let his hand lie on the keyboard, his essay turning into a bunch of incoherent letters.

suddenly, the door opened and a gust of cold wind sneaked inside causing you to turn around.

oh shh– you looked his way, don’t look–!

maybe it’s the day he should confess? you live once, no? he already asked his friends for a piece of advice – chan said to leave it, jeonghan insisted to go for it.

vernon sighed, grabbing his stuff and packing his belongings. careful enough not to nudge the empty glass after his cappuccino and plate with the rest of a lemon tart, he put his precious laptop covered in stickers into his bag. drumming his fingers in thought against it for a moment, he precisely weighed his options.

whatever, he’ll try. the worst you can say is no. besides, he once described emma watson as “a bit foreign, eyes beige and hair darkish-blondish”… so, props to teenager vernon for being so creative but he won’t be so corny now. hopefully.

maybe… i think i’m in love with you and you just gotta let my love adorn you. no, too poetic. and he’ll sound like a weirdo. no, no.

vernon ordered an americano (extra shot, extra ice, make it nice) and grabbed it, taking a deep breath. casually walking up to you, he cleared his throat.

“can i?”

your eyes tore away from the window and a cute smile appeared on your lips, brightening your face.

“sure, vernon. sit down, i wasn’t being productive anyways” you nodded and moved your laptop to make some place.

“y-you know my name?” he stuttered before plopping down. here goes his coolness…

“yeah, seungkwan introduced us. and we share classes together” you nodded, observing how the gears visibly turned in his head.

“would you like to be a part of my movie?” vernon suddenly blurted out and he felt as if the whole cafe turned quiet. no chatter, no rumble of coffee machines working and glasses clinking. just you, him and silence.

the tips of his ears reddened but his features remained calm.

“what? dude, i know you’re a cinematography major but i’m no professional” you scoffed and started chewing on your straw again.

“no, like… that was stupid. wh… you know what i major in?” vernon was, yet again, taken aback. you nodded, taking a sip of the black liquid. the ice cubes in your cup bounced off the plastic walls when you stirred it.

“vernon, you’re a friend of a friend. if course i know. you know my major too, so…” you let out an amused laugh and it was the most angelic sound he’s ever heard “but is the movie like a project?”

“no… just… y’know how everyone crushes emrata, emma watson or like, emma stone?” he named all the emmas he could, seeing that clearly you were confused by his words “and you… you’re just like everyone’s favorite movie”

“what the emmas have to do with that though?” you blinked, apparently ignoring his previous sentence.

vernon let out a shaky breath and looked around the room. couples, students, businesses men in a hurry. everyone surrounded by the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans in the air.

“that you’re way prettier than all of them combined. and i used to have… no, let’s not go there. i keep making weird parallels to movies but what i wanted to say is that i have a huge crush on you” the boy said, fiddling with his thumbs and missing the way the straw fell out of your mouth. his eyes kept scanning the people in the cafe, afraid to meet your gaze “if you don’t know, let me explain girl. hmm, so what i mean is that saying you’re perfect is not enough…”

you scoffed at his adorable awkwardness. his iced americano began to drip on the table long ago, a small puddle of water forming around it.

“vernon”

“even if it doesn’t work, it’s okay…” he shrugged, looking like he was talking to himself at this point rather than to you.

“vernon…”

“we’ll probably fight from time to time but we’ll overcome it like it’s nothing–”

“chwe hansol!”

his gaze snapped up, eyes widening.

“not the government name?! sorry. what were you saying?” vernon rose his eyebrows and then blinked slowly. oh he’s such an idiot.

“you’re so cute” you snickered and leaned forward, resting your chin on your interlocked hands “sure, let’s give it a go. action! as they say on movie sets, no?”

“wha… are you serious?” vernon couldn’t believe this. it all happened so quickly and very impulsively… and… it happened for real.

“one hundred percent serious, you movie nerd. i thought you were cute ever since i joined that movie club… so why not?” you nodded gently and saw a white smile bloom on his lips.

“i… i kinda can’t believe it. but so… y/n, may we go on a first date then? movies?” he asked excitedly, whipping out his student id “i have discounts!”

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

228 notes · View notes

fan-goddess · 7 months

Note

I need for kinktober aemond with daddy kink x innocent!reader so badddddd :((

my birthday’s on the 10th and I would love to see it there :))

Authors Note: Happy Birthday! Please do take this as my present to you I hope you have a nice day! Also, I changed daddy to kepa, just as I thought the Valyrian word would suit him better.

Warnings: P in v smut, corruption, daddy kink, innocent reader, power imbalance, (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

The newest maid was nice to look at, Aemond thought. You were nice in general too. You’d always make eye contact with him and never stare at his eye with disgust. Whenever you knew he was sad, you would always sneak an extra lemon tart to him at dinner. He could never dare tell you how he found the dessert a little too sweet on his tongue.

Yet there’s other things he could never dare tell you. He couldn’t tell you how he dreams of taking you in the middle of the night, when he could not sleep and only had his hand for company. He could not dare to venture to the silk street. Not after what happened those many years ago…

“My prince? I’ve brought you those books that you requested.” You say, bringing him from his inner turmoil.

“Ah yes thank you dōna riña. I appreciate the effort.” He says, turning his head to look at you as you place the heavy looking books on his desk.

“It is no problem my prince! Besides, I will soon not be doing these tasks so I’ve decided to take as much joy as I can in doing them as of late.”

“What do you mean you won’t be doing these tasks soon?” The statement makes his head jerk to stare intently. The grip of his chair has tighten and Aemond already knows his face has turned stern to hide his shock.

“Well, my parents back home have decreed that it is time I marry. So they have found a nice man for me and have decided in a months notice I’ll return to them and he’ll take me as his bride.”

The anger Aemond feels at that moment is greater than anything he’s felt in his life. Even more than when he lost his eye. His fists force themselves clench at his side to stop himself from taking ahold of you and keeping you here by his side.

As there’s another, more satisfactory way of doing that, which’ll no doubt be better for the both of you.

“Do you like this man byka mēre?”

“I cannot say my prince. For I have never met him. All I have been told is his name, and what it is I should do for him as his wife. Although, I must say I was confused as I read them.”

“Oh? Why were the words so confusing?”

“Because they told me of giving him pleasure, and about how I should lie on my wedding bed and allow him to ‘take me’. But the thing is my prince, I have no idea what it is my family is saying to me…”

Any words Aemond had thought of using to reply to your confession does the minute he attempts to speak them. His fists, which once clenched as his side with anger, now clench with self restraint. How could this, creature made by the mother herself, be married to some old fuck of a lord who will show you an unfulfilled life?

Maybe that will be his reason when he claims you tonight for himself…

For whilst he has always fulfilled his duty as a second son, he has been making his worth known his whole life, and it is time he indulges on it with someone of his choosing.

Aemond rises from his chair for a moment before leaning to you and carefully brushes a strand of hair from your face. He feels the urge to grin when he sees the way your face has changed to a light pink.

“What if I was to show you these acts? Then you can be sure to know what to do on your wedding night?”

“A-are you sure? I’m not sure-“

“Do you not trust your prince byka mēre? Is that it?”

“No no no my prince it is not-“

“Then I do not see the issue. So be a good girl byka mēre and get on that bed, and lay on your back for me.”

“Yes my prince…”

“No. Do not call me that. I have heard your lips say that title long enough to commit it to memory. I think I’d like to hear something new spring from your lips byka mēre. Call me kepa.”

“O-okay kepa…” The words make all the blood rush to his cock, and it only worsens when he sees you laid out for him, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Good girl…” He mutters, as he stalks towards you.

When he gets close enough, his hands travel up the length of your naked legs, and stops at the skin of your upper thigh.

“I’m going to pull up the length of your dress now byka mēre. I need to reveal your cunt to me for me to help you.” Maybe he should feel bad about how he’s effectively taking advantage of you. But it being bad felt this good, how could he ever resist?

His mouth kisses slightly the soft skin of your upper thigh, just a little below where your smallclothes are, sucking small bruises to hear the whimpers you seem to be unable to contain.

Aemond has to try to contain his satisfied grin when he swiftly tears your smallcothes clean off. Yet even he cannot contain his groan of arousal when he feels the slight wet patch that had formed there.

“Such a good girl…” He groans, leaning in to lick a thick stripe of your cunt and practically moaning at the taste. It’s sweet to the tongue, possibly due to the strawberries he sees you consume at least three times a day. But it’s easily one of the best things he’s had in his entire life.

It gets even better when he hears your broken moans above him, and the feeling of your hands gripping desperately at his hair and the sheets. When your legs try to close around his head, his hands grip at your naked thighs tightly to keep you still.

“Kepa please! S-somethings happening!” He hears you whine. The sound of you begging for him makes him want to grind against the bedding for any sort of available friction, but he can’t risk cumming already and wasting his load. Not when it needs to be taking root inside of you…

“You want kepa to pleasure you more huh?” Aemond grins, relishing in the sad noise you make when he takes his mouth away from your glistening heat to lazily suck at the skin of your thighs.

“More?” You whisper. Your eyes a glazed mess as the look at him.

“Yes byka mēre. I can make you feel even greater pleasure than the small fraction you felt now. Would you like that?”

“Yes…”

“Yes what byka mēre?”

“Yes kepa…”

“What a good fucking girl I have in my bed…” Aemond groans, smiling at the sight of you preening at his words before striping himself nude in front of you. His ego certainly swells when he sees you can’t take your eyes of his erect cock.

“W-will it even fit kepa?” You murmur as you eye him in anxiousness.

“Even if it doesn’t at first. I’ll make it fit…” He says, taking his cock in his hand and positioning himself at your entrance.

He slides himself in slowly. Taking the time to make sure you were comfortable and not in pain. Though by the amount you were leaking when he was licking you, he guessed you were wet enough for what he was about to do.

When Aemond got halfway in, his impatience took over and made him thrust the rest of his cock in. And as soon as you gave him the nod of approval, he was officially a man possessed.

He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting as hard and deep as he could inside you. The sounds of your moans seemed to spur him on as-well, the high pitched whines ringing all throughout the room for him to hear. He almost wishes he could put a hand over your mouth to make sure only he can hear you. But then that would push you away, and he can’t have that not at all…

“O-oh Aemond! S-somethings happening!” You shout, digging your nails into the skin of his back and tilting your head back so much he gets the temptation to place a bite on your neck.

Which he does with a grin as he pinches at your clit with his pointer and index fingers. The sound of your surprise as it blended into a sound of pleasure was one Aemond doesn’t think he could ever forget.

“Don’t worry about it byka mēre… it’s just your peak.” He says, pinching your pearl harder as you clench more and more around his cock as it throbs at the feel of you.

As you do peak, he can feel the warmth that surrounded his cock get tighter, and its what brings him to his peak to. He can feel the warmth of his cum entering you, and when he pulls out finally, he can see his cum dripping out of you in thick drools. It almost makes him want to fuck your all over again.

Yet he doesn’t for your sake. The sake of his pretty little maid who has no idea what they’ve done. Still, he sits beside you still naked as the day he’s born and moves you to rest your head on his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, and he intertwines it and with his own.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #my works #aemond targaryen/reader

314 notes · View notes

violetsforrosen · 10 months

Text

✧ || Diamond of the Season

Pairing / Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary / As the diamond of the season, no one could ever deny you, not even your one-eye prince ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions / Fluff, a bit of kissing but nothing NSFW, The title “Diamond of the Season” inspired by Bridgerton, basically idiots in love

Delight, desire and jealousy flowed through all the lords' and ladies' eyes as they exchanged their whispers of you. Within the walls, you have heard it whether it was about your beauty, your nature, even the way you walk or the sound of your talk.

Ever since your arrival at court, young and old lords have been following you everywhere, offering to guard you through the castle as they try to impress you with their bare skills. The ladies often invite you to their gatherings, you do enjoy listening to all the gossip and you know well that when you're not there, it is you who is the topic.

You didn't mind it still, after all, their perception of you only turned you into what you have always wanted, “Diamond of the Season”, the reserved title pronounced by the Queen. In each year, her grace will do the honour presenting the season's diamond at the celebration of her wedding's anniversary to King Viserys I of House Targaryen.

You held your head high as she announced your name. This is all you have ever wanted. It takes you back to when you were just a little girl, your lady cousin was named as the season's diamond, you remember attending her grand wedding to the noble lord of Westerlands and every time you saw her afterwards, she would always dress in the most lavishing gowns and finest gold.

You smile at the thought. This title would benefit you in every single way possible. As a maiden, men across the seven kingdoms would duel to take your hands. Going as far as to offer you the most of themselves only to hear your rejection.

“What a fine jewel, Lord Wylde.” You can see him grinning, thinking he has succeeded.

“But I do not think your wives would be pleased to know that you have gifted me this.” You put down the jewel as you stared right through him. He was a much older man, the “Ironrod”, the man who had wedded four wives and sired twenty-nine children. You would never marry him, he is merely a distraction.

“My fair maiden, I would displease them a thousand times over if it meant to be in your presence.” You could not believe any words you just heard. “As a fair maiden, I have been gifted with things greater than jewels. Perhaps we could discuss your pleasure and your wives' displeasure later” You instantly stand and leave, giggling to yourself as he was lost at his words.

During noon, you have a quiet time with Princess Helaena. Sweets such as lemon cakes, apple tarts and mint tea were laid fully on the table. The second you were named the season's diamond, you were particularly following the Queen around as her lady-in-waiting. But as you were closer to her daughter's age, your role was changed to Princess Helaena's lady instead. The two of you didn't have many similarities, but there are senses of comfort growing through your friendship which only brings you two closer. “Have you found a proper man?” Helaena asked you as she drank the mint tea. “The tea would do you good, princess, it soothes and reliefs-”

“Do not turn a deaf ear to me” She interrupted you and you stared at her. “It has been stressful enough, but I promised you, I would choose a husband who will stay in court so we will always be close to each other.” You touch her hand in comfort as a gentle smile appears. “You didn't hear it from me but Ironrod tried to persuade me this morrow” You can see her pure shock and you two started giggling. “Ironrod? Lord Wylde?! Did he not have four wives already? Twenty-nine kids, I have heard” You nodded. “Three as of now, his last wife died of exhaustion.”

“I wouldn't wish to see you beside him.” You chuckled again. “Never, I already have a chosen man in mind, I promised to choose the one whose presence in court, didn't I?” As you finished your sentence, that man appeared just at the right time. “Brother” Helaena greeted him but his eye only looked at you and you grinned at him. It was only a short second, but it seemed like he understood every single thought in your mind. He didn't bother to stay after, immediately leaving to attend his duties. What a pity.

But it didn't take too long until he ran back into your arms. “Is it true? Did he try to ask for your hand?” He kissed your neck with pure lust and hunger, you laughed at his questions. “Jealousy suits you so well, my Aemond” You softly move your hands on his chest back and forth. “I did tell you that once a man who's rich enough, fine enough and brave enough asks for my hand, I will answer.” Your words anger, his grip tighten on you. “He is nothing close to that, tis I who of royalty and ancient house that could provide all your needs, it is I, who is brave enough to asks for your hand-”

“Yet, it is I who have only ever heard sweet nothing from you.” You playfully push him away. “If you truly wish to see me bare your name and your children, you would take me to the Septon and make me your wife, as simple as that.” You left him there right after. You have already made up your mind, it will always be Aemond. As his wife, you will be the lady of House Targaryen, your children will have dragon eggs placed in their cradles. Dragon riders' blood flows through their veins. You know that only he could answer to the power you have thirst for and the love you have desired.

As a fortnight passed, all the signs were finally clear. “I have named you the season's diamond myself. It is only right that you should become my daughter-in-law”, The Queen said as she held your hand. Aemond stands behind her as he stares at you. After all the little glances, soft touches and teasing whispers, it finally happened. The Diamond of the Season has become the wife of Aemond Targaryen.

masterlist for more

images' credits ๋࣭ ⭑

Spring By Eugene Bidau

An Amusing Letter by Vittorio Reggianini

Lovers, Doves By Francois Boucher

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction

540 notes · View notes

tommys-diner · 6 months

Note

Ello!! Can I get a chocolate sundae and lemon tart? I’m an introject of the disks (Mellohi and cat from the dsmp)

Also have a nice day!!!!

-🧃💿

Yeah sure!! Hope you like them here ya go!! :D

Read the DNI in our bio before interacting

Names🧃

Olive Koda Mars Nessie Leo Elliot Rory Mint Silas Rain Ophelia Evangeline Cassius Iris Violet Matilda Robin/Robyn Indigo Sage Rain/Rayne Oliver

Pronouns 💿

musi/music/musicself tune/tunes/tuneself euph/euphonium/euphoniumself splash/splashes/splashself chi/chime/chimeself bug/bugs/bugself hum/hum/humself eo/eon/eonself aeon/aeons/aeonself rhy/rhythm/rhythmself flow/flows/flowself circ/circuit/circuitself alt/alts/altself beep/boop/beepself temp/tempo/tempoself vel/velvet/velvetself ink/inky/inkself dae/daem/daer/daemself ce/cem/cemself perform/performs/performself sil/silly/sillyself zig/zag/zgself

I hope you like them!!

#-🧃#Chocolate sundaes - pronouns #Lemon tarts - names #[DSMP].Tommy's-Diner #dsmp fictive #anti endo #dsmp introject

11 notes · View notes

kalims · 1 year

Text

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "I hope you know that the things I do for you are all in the name of love."

simple acts of love,

guess what I found DEEP, DEEP in my drafts.

characters. dorm leaders

includes. gn reader.

cw. short scenarios, bruh this was literally so deep like i was still rosestadt when I made this.. not proofread or changed at all since I made it.

note. no use of any names, only titles to fit in more with the gender neutral theme, since I know some people may know yn or name as an entirely different character.

riddle rosehearts — making their favorite kind of tea / coffee.

a clink makes riddle tear his eyes away from the history book he was previously skimming over. the action of his jaw chewing immediately ceased at the sound, leaving the taste of his favorite tart lingering inside his mouth.

dessert. it was always his favorite part of a meal, even if he didn't have much freedom to actually consume them in his childhood.

riddle finds himself looking at the prefect of ramshackle wearing a calm expression on their face, they present a relaxed exterior—and in their hand, is a cup of steaming, hot, lemon tea.

"prefect, what's this?" he blinks, slowly, and innocently. riddle leans over to let the aroma of the tea enter his senses. and when he does, there's only two cubes floating around the liquid.

and then there's a realization. "wait.. this is.." #339 your after-meal tea must be lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes.

you smile. "for you. your after meal tea should be lemon tea, right?" there's a moment of silence that ensures, before riddle answers slowly.

"ah... yes, I'm suprised you remember." he clears his throat. gladly lifting the cup up with the use of his fingers, and of course. leaving his pinky sticking out, it's the only proper way to drink tea after all.

the laugh that you release makes his face a little warmer, he isn't sure if it's because of you or the hot gas the tea emits. "well.. I don't really remember all the rules, I just happened to remember you mentioning it. that's all."

riddle presses his lips together. gripping the handle a little tighter. you were actually listening to him? what a joy, you should have been sorted to heartslabyul! he must make an appeal to crowley after this. "hm.. this is most appreciated, thank you prefect."

but for now..

you walk around the table until you're near enough to be able to lean and see what he's reading. "what are you reading?"

his answer is immediate. "I'm going over topics for the upcoming exam—" riddle pauses, and looks over at you. "—would you like to join me?

ㅤ

leona kingscholar — covering them with a blanket whenever alseep.

"ah.. he fell asleep again." you mumbled, trailing off for a second to admire leona's features. he probably was a pretty popular guy back in his home if he wasn't scowling so much.

you wrack your mind for the item you've misplaced. didn't you leave the blanket folded on the bed? you wonder. carefully sliding off the sleeping lion's head off your lap and into the couch, watching him grumble and stir.

please don't wake up.. you internally pray. sighing in relief when you finally slip away without disturbing his slumber. (which you'd like to differ.)

after making sure your legs weren't as numb as before, courtesy of leona laying on it for hours. only letting you leave when you needed to pee, trying to tell you to hold it in so he can 'sleep better.'

you peer inside your bedroom and marvel at the horrible generosity crowley gave you, you aren't really in the position to complain since you'd be homeless if it weren't for him. but now you wonder if leona would let that even happen.

the door would probably fly off its hinges if you pulled any harder, a few cobwebs around the corners you couldn't reach and there's rust forming around the metal surfaces of the room. barely noticeable but if you come closer it's definitely there, the room looks relatively okay compared to the other rooms of ramshackle.

you quickly grab the blanket atop your bed, snuggling closer to the cloth gently tickling your face. it's soft and comfortable, perfect for a nap.

leona's sleeping figure comes to view after passing by a few rooms, ramshackle was bigger than you'd thought when you first gazed upon it from the outside. his position still stayed the same as it did the last time you saw him a few minutes ago, probably too tired to even move.

creeping closer to the unsuspecting man, you switch off the lights. humming softly at the way the darkness wrapped around you like a veil, casting a soft atmosphere across the room. and then finally, draping the blanket across his body, stretching it all the way just below his ankles. since you knew he didn't like both of his feet absorbed in the whole thing cause it might get too hot.

in fact he didn't bother with blankets much so you figured that you'd bring him one anyway from how cold it was in the winter. even when there's a fireplace just a few distances from you, the frost still somehow paves its way.

winter in this world was kind of a hassle since you had to shovel your way through patches of snow unless you wanted to get stuck inside the building. you found out the hard way after you got buried in a mountain of snow after opening the front door.

you sigh and shake your head, scratching your head from the memory. as you stand up you're suddenly bounding towards the couch at an alarming speed, so fast that everything actually blurred.

you took a few moments to register that you're laying down, cocooned in leona's arms. his breath tickles your neck as he nuzzles further in, providing you with the warmth to finally relax.

as some kind of bonus you aren't sure he's even aware of; his tail, usually swaying comfortably behind him is now wrapped around your leg as some kind of unconscious affection.

how do you get out of this? well it seems like he was aware and read your mind. "you don't."

ㅤ

azul ashengrotto — popping into each other's zoom calls.

monstro lounge is pretty chilly. you think, he was pretty picky about his circumstances. you slide a finger over a surface and finding not a single dirt in it. but its expected when he's a merman.

you look up. marveling at the various fishes swimming around the ocean, of course. taking a second to admire the many coral reefs, all different in shape and color.

the lounge was pretty quiet. given when it's so early, the only reason you're only actually in here in the first place. was because you'd fallen asleep, waking up in azul's bed. the man himself sleeping on his side of the bed, leaving a big space between the two of you as if he was nervous to be in the same space as you.

leaving out the sounds of water flowing. there's also the eery laughter of two twin eels, that signals nothing good is ever gonna come out of it. and of course:

azul's voice, loud but oozing with easy confidence. which you're not even sure if it actually is after the whole overblot thing.

you curiously stare at the hall where you know leads to his room. if you focus you could hear.. "headmaster, with all due respect...." and then you bleurgh, is he talking to crowley? well it wasn't your business anyways..

so you let the intrusive thoughts win as you creep closer to the door of his room, there's a small opening as if it was begging for you to peek through, and you do.

you see azul seated on his chair, wearing his dorm uniform when it isn't even a school day as he talks actively to his monitor, and on his screen is a layout of all the dorm leaders you've come to know.

riddle is nodding attentively, speaking when necessary. leona is laid down on his bed, looking just about ready to drift off. kalim is showing the camera a bright smile as jalim urges him to listen in the backround.

vil looks like he's looking at himself in the camera more despite looking at the screen. idia's camera, of course being off. and malleus not even being present.. he probably got excluded in the invitation as usual, but you aren't even sure if he owns a phone, much well know how to use it.

crowley is also there but whatever.

you quietly slide inside. hastily passing behind him, praying you didn't appear. the meeting does go on, until kalim speaks. "wahh!! was that the prefect?"

azul blinks and turns in confusion. counting in his head that all prefect were in the call. when he sees you, his mind just blanks for a second so he just dumbly stares.

you wave awkwardly. "hi.." kalim returns the favor tenfold. "hi prefect!!"

"what's the prefect doing there so early?" riddle's voice fades into the room and azul forgot how to lie for a few seconds.

"hm? oh ah... well.."

somehow the dorm meeting whose main topic was originally planned to be for school. ended up with you being the topic.

ㅤ

kalim al asim — running to them, picking them up, and spinning them in a circle.

in a hallway, kalim can be seen walking. there's a content smile on his face, a little duller than his usual bright one but a smile regardless. all in vicinity of the boy openly stare at his obvious upset mood.

there wasn't a jamil in sight which is strange since the classes of second years usually end at the same time, unless one of the professors had something to say.

ah... what do I do? I haven't received a letter from my family as usual.. kalim sighs solemnly, his shoulders further drooping. just the thought of his siblings makes him a little lonely.

if jamil was here he'd probably say. "kalim. you received a letter from your family three days ago." ah, he could almost hear his voice!

your head pops out from a pillar, grim following right after and as if some kind of butterfly effect, ace and deuce's heads pop up a second later. you all whisper vigorously.

"that's dorm leader kalim.. he looks upset!" deuce mumbles. ace just rolls his eyes and snorts. "yeah? way to point out the obvious genius."

they start bickering.

"why are we here? there's a lotta' food in the cafeteria and we're missing out.." grim says, then he looks at the pair. "oi! you two, you're gonna expose us!"

grim joins the bickering and you facepalm. it's a wonder kalim doesn't notice the chaos a few distances away from him..

you beam. "guys! I have an idea!" at your statement they both pause and look at you skeptically. "what?"

"sorry not sorry to say this but your ideas aren't exactly the best."

"who saved us from that one time in the mines?"

you join the bickering for a few.

that's how you ended up sprinting across the halls at a speed you didn't know you possessed. eyes locked in on the turban wearing man, kalim continues to trudge towards his next class unknowing of the chaos as usual.

"kalim!" the boy stops and turns around in confusion. nonetheless there's still a freindly look on his face, which soon turns into more confusion when he spots you making a beeline for him.

the next second he feels you collide into him, the air is knocked out of his lungs briefly and he feels himself hoisted up in the air and spun around while being hyper aware of your close, discret snuggling.

when his feet touch the ground there's an obvious lift to his mood. "that was fun!! let's do it again!!"

"wait I haven't worked out muc--"

you're both on the ground now.

ㅤ

vil schoenheit — doing your makeup together.

there was always a saying. beauty is pain and you wholeheartedly believed it when you witnessed the whole backstory to vil's overblot. but now..

now you start to regret believing it because why does your brows even need to be perfect!? you side eye the mirror. it looks perfectly fine!

in his fingers lay a tweezer, and in between the tweezer is the sacrifice from your brows. "stop jumping around so much, I wouldn't wanna mess this up." vil scolds. choosing to not comment on the fact that you scooted away from him.

"ouch.." you're trying to resist to tear up. immediately scooting away from vil once you feel the awful, stinging pain from your eyebrow. he casts you a half hearted glare.

you narrow your eyes at him. "is this really necessary?" you question seriously. vil raises a brow, somehow making him look more sassy. "there isn't beauty without pain, this is a necessity."

you both stare in silence, neither giving up before he eventually sighs and rolls his eyes. "hmph. fine, we were done with that anyways." vil softens up. giving you a taste of mercy before grabbing a tube of eyeliner and beckoning you to come closer.

you oblige cautiously and place your hands on your lap, sitting idly as the pleasing sensation of the brush is felt ok your eyelids. from your unoccupied eye, you give a moment to admire his concentration.

wow he's.. "beautiful, hmm?" a look of confidence is paired with the air vibrating around vil. you nod mutely, not sure if he's talking about himself.. or you, most probably the first one.

vil stands up and grabs your wrist in a firm, tender grip. he leads you in front of a mirror, wearing a triumphant smile as he admires his work. "now you've grown, potato."

"are you gonna harvest me now?" you joke and his face drops. "...what? no."

idia shroud — bailing them out of awkward social situations with a specially-designed system of code words and hand motions.

anyone has the one time, sight of a lifetime of they catch eye of the ignihyde dorm leader. more looking like wanting no more than to just melt into the wall itself as idia presses himself further to the corner.

his fiery hair shrinks the more the random student—too enthusiastic for his taste, talks animatedly in a way that even he struggles to keep up. usually idia thinks he's good at multitasking since he could read subtitles while taking note of a particular fight scene.

but this was way too hard..

"hello!" idia flinched at the uncharacteristically loud tone you spoke it. the student however, blinks and turns to you with a raised brow. their attitude does a complete 180° but you admit you'd grown used to it.

this is a school for villians after all. they probably didn't want to talk to a nobody like you.

since the student seemed lenient on giving you the lesser treatment you just opted to ignore their existence and look straight into the anxious eyes of idia.

you beam a forced smile. "idia!—" but then the student interrupts you again, with a slight chilling persona. "excuse me. would you mind?" then they turn to him again.

contrary to their previous attitude they switch their personality again..

idia stares right into your soul. a silent plead. help me.

you cringe, hand switching into various hand motions when the student turns their back to you. idia's eyes widen in astonishment and understanding, his flames seemed a bit brighter. if you ignore the slight tinge of pink.

he nods at the student who seems ecstatic by his non-verbal response nonetheless. "i-...um... I have to go attend... a, b-birthday party for the reindeer? " idia mumbles out through clattering teeth.

"huh?"

it seemed like a question rather than an excuse so you started wildly gesturing—the student still unknowing of you. be more confident, relax. "I-I'm going to a birthday party!"

he adds after a long silence. "...for the reindeer!"

now he seemed way too excited.. you facepalm, opting to just leave him alone and gesture for him to take a leap of fate and start running towards you.

the student blinks and suddenly they're the only one alone in the hallway.

"wait... that was the prefect of ramshackle?!" a scream of despair.

ㅤ

malleus draconia — tracing the veins on the insides of their wrists.

his hands are humongous. you muse. absent-mindedly toying with his fingers as you stifle a yawn. malleus hums, using the hand that you weren't occupied with to wipe away the tears that formed after your yawn.

affectionately of course.

but then again. you presume that since he's a dragon and all its expected, given his height was already quite abnormal from the start. up close, he's larger than expected.

it's funny. the literal guy feared by the whole school is letting you toy with his hands..contrary to the rumours he was a pretty nice guy! if you look past his intimidating persona atleast.

but you do get their fear of him. weird as it sounds.. malleus really is quite scary. even worse when he's somehow angry. with his tall exterior, emerald eyes that usually seems so dark, and the horns. it makes him look..

so beautifully dangerous.

you turn malleus' hand. immediately catching eye of the prominent veins, kind of flexing under the weight of your grip. you can feel the thrum of his pulse through your fingers.

"do you feel that?"

"..I believe so?" he looks more entertained than you.

you mumble. "why is it so.. long?" you gingerly rub the vein, you can almost feel malleus vibrate, seemingly pleased.

"because—"

"hUumaaAAANN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH WAKA-SAMA?!"

note. i just saw it when I was cleansing my drafts.. actually say thank you to ellie since they are wholly the reason why it gets published in the first place. again, NOT CHANGED AT ALL since I wrote it months ago

2K notes · View notes

miasmaghoul · 6 months

Note

*ahem* edelweisss, edelweisss . . .

Swiss leans in the doorway to the common room, arms crossed over his chest, tail idly swishing behind him. He's been here for a few minutes now, left his book dog-eared on his bed with the intent of grabbing a snack. He'd found the kitchen occupied, though, and the smile he wears is exclusively thanks to the sight before him.

The kitchen is a mess; the small island is occupied by an ancient stand mixer and a few dirty bowls, while the counter lies covered in open containers, half-empty ingredient bags and not-small pile of used measuring spoons. The scent of sugar, citrus and something floral hangs heavy in the air, and Swiss can feel the heat of the oven from across the room.

At the center of the mess, though, lies what holds Swiss' attention.

Mountain's humming, swaying in front of the stove along with the album playing on the common room turntable. Something jazzy Swiss recognizes but can't name off the top of his head. Whatever it is, Mountain is clearly lost in it while he rather vigorously stirs something Swiss can't see. What he can see is the smattering of floury handprints covering Mountain's jeans, and the streak of something pale yellow that's somehow ended up in his hair. Swiss can only imagine how much worse Mountain's front must be, but there's one more detail that keeps him from wondering too hard.

The few delicate white flowers that have made their home at the base of Mountian's antlers have Swiss' eyes crinkling. He'd know those pale petals anywhere.

Swiss pushes off the doorframe and drags his feet just loud enough to announce himself. Sneaking up on Mountain in the kitchen doesn't usually end well. He sees the other ghoul's ear flick, sees him pause in stirring, and Swiss feels safe to speak.

"Thinkin' about me, grasshopper?"

Mountain peers at his over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow. Swiss gestures at his head as he strolls into he room, and Mountain rolls his eyes as though he can see his own antlers. He makes a chuffing sound and resumes his mixing, but Swiss doesn't miss his little smirk.

"Might be," he replies with a half shrug. "It's happened once or twice, against my better judgement."

Swiss laughs as he hops up onto one of the bar stools at the island, one leg tucked up under himself. He rests his elbow on one of the few clean spots by the mixer - the remnants of whatever Mountain has in his hair sits in the bowl closest to him, so Swiss picks it up and gives it a sniff.

"What's on the menu today, peaches?" Swiss swipes a fingers through a blob on the side of the bowl. Gives it a cursory sniff.

"A lemon and lavender cake," Mountain supplies, just in time for Swiss to pop his finger into his mouth and find out for himself.

The batter is delicious, sweet and tart and wonderfully smooth. Delightful on all counts. Swiss isn't surprised; Mountain is as good a cook as he is a messy one, and judging by the splotch of egg yolk Swiss can see on the ceiling this has been particularly inspired session.

"Fancy," he says, gathering another bit of batter. "If you need someone to taste when it's baked, my mouth ain't busy."

Mountain snorts, and together they say,

"For now."

Swiss playfully tosses a dirty tea towel at his back, and Mountain catches it without even looking. Tucks one corner into his pocket while his tail meanders towards the fridge.

"Already baked," he says, nodding towards the appliance while his tail tugs it open. The middle shelf holds three identical rounds of cake, the loveliest shade of yellow speckled with what must be flecks of lavender. "You'll have to wait for the finished product, I already trimmed them down. For quality control. You know how it is."

Swiss nods sagely. He slides from his stool and wanders over to the stove, humming when Mountain's tail sways up to greet him, the tufted end caressing his jaw. Swiss leans against the counter, and now he can see what Mountain is working on.

"What's, uh," he waves at the odd arrangement on the stove - a pan beneath what appears to be the stand mixer's bowl, which must contain whatever Mountain is tirelessly stirring. "What's this all for, then?"

"Frosting," Mountain tells him, lifting what turns out to be a whisk. "Eventually."

Something thick and gooey drips from the whisk and immediately gives Swiss several indecent thoughts.

"Don't say it looks like cum," Mountain says before Swiss can so much as open his mouth.

"Wasn't gonna," Swiss lies, tongue poking out between his fangs. Mountain gives him a look. "I wasn't!" Swiss insists, pushing away from the counter. He slips behind Mountain instead, wraps his arms around the taller ghoul's waist. Swiss kisses the back of his shoulder. "But I was gonna ask if that was why you were thinkin' about me."

Mountain barks out a laugh.

"Gross," he complains, but his tail wraps around Swiss' calf all the same. "But you're actually half right." Swiss makes a questioning sound, and Mountain points a thumb behind them. "Look at the recipe."

Swiss will, eventually. He indulges in holding Mountain first, just for a moment. Presses his nose to his sweat-damp shirt and breathes in the the homey scent of warm earth and something herbal. It blends beautifully with the lemon and sugar surrounding them, makes him feel a little fuzzy around the edges. He gives Mountain a squeeze, and stands on his toes to kiss the back of his neck before he lets go; another soft, white blossom pops up behind Mountain's ear.

Mountain picks up humming again while Swiss hunts for the recipe he mentioned. He piles dishes as he searches, stacks bowls and gathers measuring spoons. He finds it after a minute, an index card stained with vanilla and sticky with egg.

"A-ha," he holds up the card triumphantly, a light dusting of flour raining down from it. "Let's see what got you growing me."

Swiss wipes the card on his pants, and recognizes its looping, cursive script as Cumulus' handwriting. Lemon lavender layer cake with -

"No fuckin' way," Swiss says through a laugh. He looks up to find Mountain watching him with a glimmer in his eye. "That's all it took?"

"Yep," Mountain sighs, turning back to the task at hand. "That's all."

Swiss stares at the back of his head for a beat, and then the goofiest smile cracks his face. He tosses the card to the counter and returns to his place at Mountain's back, wrapping him up just a little tighter this time.

"Lucifer, you're a sap," he teases, but they both know it's true. Swiss reaches up and plucks one of the flowers decorating Mountain's antlers, spins it between two fingers. "Not that I'm complaining about bein' on your mind."

"Neither am I, edelweiss," Mountain rumbles. He briefly abandons his dutiful whisking to turn and knock their horns together. "Neither am I."

Mountain ducks down just enough for Swiss to catch him is a leisurely kiss, one that tastes like summery sunshine, and then he's gone again. Leaves Swiss grinning dumbly at the back of his head while warmth trickles into his belly. He settles against the taller ghoul's back, and in no time at all the pair of them start to sway to the music as one.

"So," Swiss murmurs into his shirt after a long moment, "what's a Swiss meringue buttercream, anyway?"

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss/mountain #swiss x mountain #SURPRISE BITCH HAVE THE CAKE IDEA >:)#jk ilu crow <3

165 notes · View notes