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lancermylove · 2 months

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Gifts (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: All x gn!Reader, minus Ortho.

Warning: None.

Prompt: His white day gift to you.

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Malleus

Malleus gifts you a bouquet of red crystal roses. Each flower is gracefully carved from red crystals, and the base stem and leaves are gilded in 24-karat gold.

His gift is meant to symbolize eternal love. He even takes it a step further by saying, "My love for you shall remain until the roses wither."

Lilia

If you are of age, he will gift you a bottle of aged wine.

If not, he will give you a bottle of juice as a joke just to see your reaction. Then, laugh and hand you a luxurious box of heart-shaped chocolates.

Silver

Silver hands you a white velvet box containing a necklace. The necklace has a pure silver base with a white iridescent opal pendant surrounded by diamonds.

Unknown to you, the necklace is actually a gift passed down to the woman in his family as a symbol of being part of his family. Congratulations, he indirectly proposed to you, and you accepted. Lilia is looking forward to the wedding.

Sebek

Gifts you an oversized white teddy bear with a red plaid ribbon around its neck. The teddy bear has a red heart on the left side of its chest.

He practically shoves it in your hands and looks away, not knowing what to say. He hopes that when you miss him, you will hug the teddy bear.

Riddle

Riddle goes through a list of gifts, not knowing which one to give you. He thinks jewelry, then switches to chocolates, but then feels too much sugar is not good.

So, he sticks with a traditional gift: a bouquet of white roses with red trim neatly held together by silver ribbons.

Ace

He goes all out for the gift and makes you a custom deck of playing cards, which are actually 52 reasons why he likes you. Each card has something he likes about you, from your appearance to your personality to the cute things you do that make him smile.

The gift is thoughtful, but part of you wonders why he chose to go all out. Did he do something? Something is definitely fishy.

Deuce

He gives you a white envelope with a lopsided heart drawn on the flap on the back. Inside the envelope is a heartfelt hand-written letter expressing his feelings. There are many scribbles, and apologies for the scribbles between the words, but you can tell each word holds meaning.

Along with the letter is a white ribbon that he wraps around your wrist and ties into an uneven bow.

Trey

He bakes you a cake with ingredients that he grew and harvested himself. And for the ones he bought, he made sure to purchase the finest ingredients.

The cake is layered with fluffy sponges, moistened with vanilla bean syrup, filled with a rich mascarpone and white chocolate blend, and enveloped in a silky white chocolate ganache. On top of the cake are rare white strawberries, highlighted with edible gold leaf and crushed pearls.

Cater

The first thing Cater does is check the internet for the most trending gifts for White Day. He narrows it down to a few gifts and eventually buys matching phone cases for the two of you.

The cases are white with pink, clear, and red crystals. He warns you to be careful with the case in the sunlight. Cater accidentally temporarily blinded Ace and Deuce by holding the case in the sunlight facing them. The shimmer of the crystals was too intense for the troublemaker duo.

Leona

Literally walks into a designer store and chooses the first thing that catches his eye. One can never go wrong with a scarf, right?

The white piped trim bandeau scarf is made of pure silk and has the designer's name monogrammed at the base of one of the ends.

Ruggie

Ruggie learns some recipes from his grandmother and cooks a meal for you. He tries to get the best ingredients he can, with the help of the garden club, so he can give you a decent quality meal.

The recipes are not fancy, nor is the plating, but he put a lot of effort into making it, so he hopes you like it.

Jack

He struggles to find a gift for you, and his siblings give him a few ideas, but none of them sit with him.

Jack gifts you a cactus terrarium with rare, colorful cacti arranged in a heart shape. But in case you don't like the gift, he also hands you a small box with a silver charm bracelet.

Vil

Vil contemplates gifting you apparel or something fashion-related. However, he thinks clothes and accessories wouldn't convey his message properly.

So, he settles for a hand-held mirror. The mirror is made of 24-karat gold with diamonds surrounding the edges. An intricate rose is carved on the back of the mirror, with the stem and leaves curving around the base.

He wants you to know that no gold or diamonds can match your beauty.

Rook

Rook sets up a scavenger hunt for you with some of the most beautiful locations on the campus, where he hides the next clue. The end of the scavenger hunt leads to a picturesque picnic spot in the middle of the woods near a waterfall.

He recites a romantic poem for you, half in English, half in French. Then, the two of you enjoy snacks and talk for a while. Rook hands you a bouquet of white roses with one red rose in the center. The white roses represent your beautiful soul, and the red rose is your priceless heart.

Epel

Epel learns how to knit and crochet from his grandmother so that he can make you a handmade gift for White Day. He can't pick a design, so his grandmother tells him to just follow his heart and not overthink.

He knits you a scarf, using your favorite color as a base. Inside the curves of the scarf, which will be hidden around your neck, are the words "I love you." Epel hides those words on the inside of the scarf because they are meant for you, not the world.

Azul

Azul wants to give you a physical gift but thinks that everyone gives physical gifts, so it's better to do something different.

In the end, he takes you to one of the finest restaurants under the sea, literally. You dine with sea creatures, trying out their unique and exclusive dishes.

Jade

At first, he is tempted to give you a mushroom terrarium but gives into his better judgment and gives you something you might like.

Jade presents you with a beautiful floral arrangement. The bouquet is thoughtfully arranged, and each flower symbolizes his feelings and love for you. Roses show his passion for you. Gerbera daisies represent the playful side you bring out in him and the joy you make him feel when he is with you. Alstroemerias show his care and support for you—know he will be there for you when you need him to. Lastly, Gladiolus represents his eternal love for you and his faithfulness towards you.

Floyd

He doesn't know what to get you, and his mood changes every time he decides on the 'right' gift. In the end, he gets frustrated and decides to just spend time with you in a fun place.

Floyd takes you to an amusement park. The two of you have fun, and he gets to spend the entire day with you.

Idia

His initial idea is something video game-related, but Ortho advises against it. He gives Idia a lecture about finding a meaningful gift.

So, Idia builds and programs a cell phone for you that has some of the most advanced features known to men. The phone makes your life easier - almost to the point that you think it, and the phone has it. With that phone, you might as well change your name to 007.

Kalim

When you arrive in your room, you freeze. Your entire room is filled with gift boxes, and Kalim is sitting in the center, grinning.

He didn't know what to get you and ended up getting you everything on the list, from chocolates to jewelry to teddy bears to clothes to handbags to you name it. It will take you about a day or two to open all the gifts. Good luck finding space for everything in your room and closet!

Jamil

Jamil knows from the start that he wants to give you something meaningful. The entire day is supposed to be special, so he doesn't want to give you a present and call it a day.

In the morning, he brings you breakfast that he cooked. Then, gives you a bouquet of flowers. In the afternoon, he hands you a neatly wrapped gift box with a white ribbon tied around it. Inside is traditional wear from Scalding Sands, but the patterns on the apparel are exclusive to his family. Another one indirectly proposes to you. Congrats!

In the evening, he has a candlelight dinner with countless dishes that he prepared himself.

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mooncleaver · 2 years

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My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

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henneseyhoe · 8 months

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SMILE FOR ME, DADDY.

Chiron x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS:18+, pussy is being licked like ice cream on a hot country summer day!, no relation between reader and Chiron, y’all just bein nasty, Short.

SUMMARY:reader likes Chiron’s grillz and he shows her they look good on her too..*wink wink*

(Pt2)

✮✮✮✮

It all started with you askin’ him about those damn grillz.

“Pretty boy!”

“Smile for me, daddy!” You and your friends playfully yelled at the men across the parking lot, their attention landing on your entire group regardless of all the other people around them hooting and hollering about how nice their cars was.

They smiled nicely like it wasn’t nothing, the grillz in question gleaming in the streetlights. All grillz had different designs and colors. One was silver with diamonds riddling the top and bottom, one was gold with crosses engraved on it, one was in the shape of an AK on the man’s top row with the bottom slugged out with silver, and one just had simple gold, but that was all you had to see to make that kitty pur.

You all went silent, giggling amongst each other as the opposite group detached themselves from the hoods of their drop top rides, striding over to y’all. You got nervous with every step, your hands starting to shake. Each and every one of them picked a girl out for themselves to talk to, and you were last, the most intimidating one of them all approaching you. He was tall, nice beard, skin looked like glazed dark chocolate in all these lights, and his golden pendants and grillz only made all that pop. You could have fainted right then and there with how he was looking at you. Like he wanted to take a bite with those same golds.

“You said you want me to do what, ma?” He asked, licking his lips. You got a peak of the bright jewels in his mouth, your eyes twinkling with every sight of it.

“I- I said…I wanted to see them grillz”

✮✮✮✮

“FUCK! Ouuu, fuck!” You moaned, your hand gripping onto the velvet seats of the car that belonged to this man whose name you still didn’t know. How you went from asking to see his grillz to him sticking his entire tongue inside of you with no remorse for his seats? You had no idea, but you were damn sure gonna enjoy a handsome face being in your lap.

He wasn’t just kissing or sucking, he was making love to that pussy, like he actually loved the pussy. His tongue knew no limits, licking up and down from your throbbing clit all the way down to your ass. That’s how you knew he was a real freak, y’all only talked for about an hour. Your legs was lifted up so high you were sure a plane would think you were telling them to land right on top of y’all. Not to mention the top on the car was still down and y’all were still in the parking lot where the car meet took place. Thankfully, everyone had left, hearing about a street racing event that was happening downtown. You were too busy getting your soul sucked out through your clit to care about it.

He spread your lips with his thumbs and spat down onto your clit, watching it drip down to your entrance and spill on his seat. Sticking his tongue out, he only uses the tip to play with your bundle of nerves, flicking it back and forth as your stomach started to flip and cave in from the powerful orgasm you were about to have. Once again you caught a glimpse of those beautiful golds in his mouth, just shining at you, not to mention the feeling of the warm material sitting against your pussy every time he decides to put his entire mouth on you, collecting the juices that had attempted to fall.

“OH MY GOD!” You squealed, your pussy clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. Suddenly he closes his lips around your clit and begins to suck while sliding two of his fingers inside you, the sound of macaroni being stirred filling the car as he began thrusting his fingers at an angle inside of you while sucking. He felt your pussy contract around him, clamping down until you sprayed your juices all over him like a broken water pipe. “OH SHIT!” Was all you could say as you watched in awe, the force being so strong that you actually slammed your head back against the cars door. You continued to squirt through your surprise and confusion, wetting up his seats, beard, and white tee. And get this, the night still wasn’t over.

✮✮✮✮

Me and my grillz kink back at it again???

#henneseyhoe #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black actors #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #smut masterlist #trevante rhodes fanfiction #trevante rhodes imagines #trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes smut #trevante rhodes fanfic #actor smut #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months

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1968 [Chapter 2: Hera, Goddess Of Childbirth]

A/N: Enjoy Chapter 2 a little early! See you on Sunday for Chapter 3 🥰

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.4k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

You are buzzed at a private party in the Rainbow Room of Rockefeller Center, Midtown, February 1966, chandeliers and candlelight, pink and red hearts made of paper hanging from shimmering strings and littering the floor. Your roommate Barbara Nassau Astor—yes those Astors, Astor Avenue in the Bronx, Astoria in Queens, “the landlords of New York”—brought you along tonight, and the chance to be swept up into her glittering existence is precisely why your father sent you to a school like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart. Barb knows people who know people who know other people and every single individual in that grand design is wealthy and worldly and could possibly lead you into the generous arms of your future husband. You are from Tarpon Springs, Florida, heiress to a sea sponge fortune, and your father nurses powerful ambitions of intermingling his blood with the Northeastern elite.

You scan the selection as you sip your Pink Squirrel. You could marry a doctor and sit in the living room waiting for him to come home at 9 or 10 or 11 p.m., fix him a Whiskey Sour or a Sazerac, listen to him bemoan the complexities of nerves and veins before accompanying him to bed and repeating the whole process the next day. You could marry a lawyer or an advertising executive, and your fate would be much the same. Your own parents are partners in life and business, but you have seen enough to know how rare this is. These men of the Rainbow Room, 65 floors above icy streets radiant with headlights, want a wife whose hands will stay manicured and idle: nannies will tend to the children, maids will clean the house, mistresses will massage the knots out of the muscles of his back. And you—a relative upstart, new money among ancient bloodlines—will have no right to demand otherwise.

A man interrupts your reverie. He wants to know about the pendant you wear around your neck. You sigh before you turn to him; you resist the instinct to roll your eyes. And then you see him. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, with a curious intensity and a teasing little smirk, an Old Fashioned in his grasp like molten gold. You don’t know it yet, but he is a senator from New Jersey, very recently elected, victorious yet still hungry. He steals the oxygen out of your lungs. He drowns you in the amber-musk warmth of his cologne.

“It’s Athena,” you say, touching your fingertips to the silver medallion self-consciously; and you are rarely self-conscious. The black polish has been scrubbed from your nails and replaced with a soft, shimmering champagne. You spent two hours this afternoon having your hair painfully teased and arranged into a Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo.

“Goddess of wisdom.”

“And war and peace. And math.”

“Math?” He is intrigued.

“That’s what I’m studying at school. Math.”

“And yet you are not disinterested in the humanities. You know Greek mythology.”

“Well, Tarpon Springs has a lot of Greeks, and that’s where I’m from, so.”

“Studies math. From Tarpon Springs, Florida. I’m learning everything about you.” He smiles, this magnetic stranger who has captured you like a moon lured into a planet’s gravity. He swallows a mouthful of his Old Fashioned, moisture glistening on his lips. “Do you like Greek food?”

You can’t seem to follow his words. Blood is rushing into your face, hot and dizzying. “What?”

“Greek food. Have you tried it? Hummus, tzatziki, gyros, spanakopita, horiatiki, baklava.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had it. It’s great.”

“My family owns a house on Long Beach Island,” he says casually. “We eat a lot of Greek food there. You should join us for dinner sometime soon.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Very soon. Maybe this weekend. Are you free?”

No, you’re not; but you’ll cancel plans until you are. “Um, okay. Sure. And who…sorry, I might have missed it, but…who are you…?”

“Aemond Targaryen.” And he shakes your hand like you’re someone who matters. “I’m a senator. I’m trying to end the war.”

With him, you could be a part of something magnificent. With him, you could help save the world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Asteria is the goddess of falling stars, but the home of rising ones. On the north end of Long Beach Island, New Jersey—only 100 miles south of the sleek bladelike skyscrapers of Manhattan—lies the sprawling Targaryen estate. The nine-acre property features one main house and another three for guests, a swimming pool, a tennis court, a ten-car garage, a boathouse, a pier, and an ample stretch of beach that abuts the Atlantic Ocean, open water with nothing interrupting the infinite, miles-deep blue from the East Coast to the Iberian Peninsula. It is the first week of July, 1968, and your 23rd birthday. You are lazing in a lounge chair on the emerald green lawn and eating your third slice of melopita, a cheesecake-like dessert made with honey and ricotta. It originates from the Greek island of Sifnos.

“You two can’t murder each other while I’m gone,” Aemond says. He’s sitting between you and Aegon. His stitches have healed, the worst of his pain has subsided, his poll numbers have only improved since the assassination attempt. He has a glass eye that he can insert for public appearances, but he dislikes it; at home he wears a leather eyepatch that still unnerves the children. Tomorrow, Aemond is flying to Tacoma to campaign ahead of the Washington State Convention on the 13th. Most of the family will be joining him, with only three Targaryens remaining at Asteria: ailing Viserys, useless Aegon, and you, officially too pregnant to travel by plane. You are wearing a floral, flowing, two-piece swimsuit. The sun is blazing in a clear sky. The record player is piping out Time Of The Season by the Zombies.

Aegon waves a hand flippantly, then adjusts his preposterously large blue-tinted plastic sunglasses; he is shirtless, flabby, very sunburned. “I’ll barely be here.”

Aemond looks over at him, amused. “Oh yeah? And what pressing engagements do you have to attend to? I’d love to know.”

You take a bite of your melopita and scatter crumbs across the swell of your belly: seven and a half months along. “I’m sure the prostitutes miss him.”

“They do,” Aegon snaps. “I’m their favorite customer.”

“Well you’re a reprieve for them. It’s always over so quickly.”

Aemond is snickering. Aegon says to him: “23, huh? A 13-year age difference. She could almost be your daughter.”

“And 17 years younger than you. She could definitely be yours.”

“That’s how Aegon likes his girls,” you say. “Too inexperienced to recognize end-stage degeneracy. Still stumbling their way through Shakespeare for English class.”

“Why can’t she stay at the brownstone?” Aegon asks irritably. Aemond owns a historic townhouse in Georgetown for when Congress is in session, though he’s rarely been there since he announced that he was running for president.

“Because Doxie is here to make sure she’s taken care of,” Aemond replies. Eudoxia has been the head housekeeper of Asteria for decades, a formidable battleaxe of a woman who speaks very little English and has a seemingly endless supply of patterned scarves to wrap around her ink black dyed hair. There currently aren’t any permanent staff stationed at the brownstone, and Aemond does not trust strangers. “And because my future first lady is hosting a tea party on the 10th.”

“A tea party!” Aegon gasps, mocking you. “Surely that will patch the wounds of our troubled nation. She’s an inspiration. She’s motherfucking Gloria Steinem.”

“She’s Aphrodite,” Aemond says, beaming with pride, his remaining eye fixed on your belly. He’s lost one piece of himself, but in a month and a half he’ll gain another. “Goddess of love.”

“There must be a more appropriate mythological character. Medusa, perhaps. Lyssa was the goddess of rabies, Epiales was the goddess of nightmares.”

“Aegon, I had no idea you were so…” You search for the right word. “Literate.”

“Io was turned into a cow.” He grins at you, toothy, malicious.

“She’s also one of Jupiter’s moons,” Aemond muses. He draws invisible orbits in the air with his long, graceful fingers. “Beautiful, celestial, pristine…”

“A satellite,” Aegon says. “Mindless. Aimless. Going wherever she’s told.”

Aemond insists as he twists the bracelet around your right wrist, a delicate gold chain he bought during your honeymoon in Hawaii: “Aphrodite.”

“Didn’t she fuck around with, like, everyone?”

“Maybe you should be Aphrodite,” you tell Aegon.

Mimi appears, tottering across the lawn with the straps of her sundress sliding off her shoulders and her Gimlet sloshing precariously in its glass. The children are playing in the surf with the nannies and Fosco, who is entertaining them by diving for seashells and delivering his treasures into their tiny, grasping palms. Criston is supervising from the sand, though he steals frequent glimpses of Alicent as she feeds a wheelchair-bound Viserys—much diminished after a number of strokes—his own slice of melopita, one careful, patient spoonful at a time. “Can we…” Mimi bursts out laughing and almost falls over. She claws her way upright again using the back of Aegon’s chair. “Um…I was thinking…”

“What?” Aegon asks, annoyed, avoidant. If they’ve ever been happy, it was a transient epoch that came and went long before you joined the family. It was before the asteroid killed the dinosaurs.

“We should go back to Mykonos. We had such a nice time in Mykonos. Didn’t we? Didn’t we just adore Mykonos?”

Aegon sighs, glowering out over the ocean. “Yeah, we sure did. Ten years ago.”

“Exactly!” Mimi gushes, oblivious. “When can we go? Next week? Let’s go next week.”

“Mimi, you and the kids will be in Washington, remember?” Aemond says. Alicent will have to be her handler; usually it’s your job to make sure Mimi is ready for photos, eats enough to stay conscious, doesn’t trip over her own feet, doesn’t talk too much to the press.

“Washington?” Like she’s never heard of it.

“The state. Not the city. For the convention.”

“Oh right. Right.” She gulps her Gimlet. You could set your watch by Mimi’s drinking. Tipsy by lunch, drunk at dinner, crawling on the floor chasing the dogs around by 8 p.m. The Targaryens keep a drove of Alopekis, small and white and foxlike. “Well…maybe some other time.”

“After the election,” Aemond says with an abiding, encouraging smile. He tolerates Mimi because he needs her: happy wholesome family, American Dream. Down at the water’s edge, the nannies are giving towels to Fosco and the children as they scamper out of the frothing waves, Mimi’s five and Helaena’s three: Daphne, Neaera—no one can ever seem to spell her name correctly, least of all the six-year-old girl herself—and Evangelos.

Mimi departs, on the hunt for a fresh Gimlet. Aegon reaches into the pocket of his swim trunks—Hawaiian print, royal blue—and pulls out a joint and a Zippo. He sticks the joint between his teeth and goes to light it.

“No,” Aemond says immediately, yanking the joint out of Aegon’s mouth and stomping it into the earth. Then he points down the beach towards the sand dunes. “You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.”

“They can’t tell what I’m smoking!”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“You know there are teenagers getting their limbs blown off in Vietnam right now? I think society has bigger problems than me smoking grass.”

“And yet to solve those bigger problems, I have to win in November. And the suburban housewives will not vote for me if they think I support legalizing marijuana. Trust me, I know. I’ve met them.”

“I wouldn’t want those people’s votes,” Aegon says derisively.

“You’d rather Nixon get them?”

Aegon doesn’t have a speedy rebuttal this time. He contemplates the Atlantic Ocean, the wind tearing at his hair.

“It’s hot as hell,” Aemond says to you, gathering up the newspapers he’s been leafing through, never not thinking about the election, never not strategizing. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

As you accompany Aemond towards the main house—and of course you follow him, always, anywhere—Alicent waves you over to where she and Viserys are sitting to wish you a happy birthday again. From this vantage point, you can just barely spot Otto and Helaena strolling through her garden, a jungle of butterfly bushes and herbs. The stricken Targaryen patriarch beams at the swell of your belly. Viserys likes you, you are his favorite daughter-in-law, though perhaps this is not so lofty an achievement. Moreover, he likes that you are carrying the child of his decent son. Aemond has already decided on the baby’s name: Aristos Apollo. If it is in fact a boy, you suppose you’ll call him Ari, but he doesn’t feel real to you yet. He belongs to Aemond, to the Targaryens, to the nation, but not quite to you. He is more myth than flesh.

“Nothing is more precious than children,” Viserys tells Aemond, raspy and frail. “I would have had at least five more if I could.” Alicent bows her head, an acknowledgement of her failure in this regard. Viserys expects it. You and Aemond politely avert your gazes.

“Thank God for this baby,” Alicent says. “After the year we’ve had? That the whole world has had? We all need something to be grateful for.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, smiling. It must be the promise of a son that has made his maiming go down smoother, and maybe it is his soaring poll numbers too, and maybe it is gratitude that he escaped with his life, and maybe it is even the fact that he has you.

But long after dusk when you’re getting ready for bed—slathering yourself in Jergens, stepping into your chiffon nightgown—as you pass through the sliver of light pouring out of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of something that stops you. Aemond is standing in front of the mirror with his hands on the rim of the sink, his eyepatch slung over the towel rack, his voided eye socket exposed and gory and irreparably wounded. There’s something in his scarred face that you can’t recall ever seeing before. There is a seething, secret, animal rage. There is fury for everyone who has ever denied him anything.

You remember who you were before you met Aemond at the Rainbow Room in Manhattan at a party you were almost not illustrious enough to attend. You wore your hair long and loose, you downed shots, you smoked, you swore, you slept through class almost every Monday; and then you packed all of this away in your allegorical attic and became someone who could stand beside a senator, and then a candidate, and then a president, someone who could tip the scales of fate.

And you think as you lurk unnoticed in the doorway: Maybe he’s been hiding parts of himself too.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 10th, 10 a.m. He’s snoring on a couch in the living room, the one patterned with sailboats. He’s hugging his acoustic guitar like a child clinging to a teddy bear. Sometimes he plays it for the kids: Get Rhythm, Twist And Shout, Stand By Me, You Can’t Hurry Love. That’s about the extent of his involvement in their lives. He has a law degree from Columbia that his father bought for him. Aside from a brief and disastrous stint as the mayor of Trenton, he has never been gainfully employed. You pour the cupful of ice cubes you collected from the freezer all over his bare chest.

“What the fuck!” Aegon screams as he startles awake. “What is wrong with you?!”

“The guests are arriving in two hours. And you’re going to help me host.”

“I’m not slobbering at the feet of those manicured elitists.”

“It’s easy to say ‘vive la révolution’ from your family’s mansion that you reside in as a professional failure.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m so worthless. If only I spent more time hosting tea parties.”

“I can’t small talk with governors and congressmen, so I have to charm their wives instead. That’s how it works, you idiot.”

Aegon rolls off the couch and rubs his forehead, wincing, hungover. In the dining room, Eudoxia is readying cups and plates, polishing silverware, folding napkins. The caterers will be here soon, and there are also three dishes that you made yourself: stafidopsomo, a bread with raisins and cinnamon; rizogalo, Greek-style rice pudding; and baklava you spent hours chopping walnuts for. At least one show of domestic prowess is an expectation, two is impressive, three is above and beyond, something for the other political wives to chatter about. You know the importance of making a good impression on them. They are as much a part of their husbands’ careers as the speech writers, communication directors, fundraisers. “I need a Bloody Mary,” Aegon groans.

“You need to pull your goddamn weight. Everyone else is working to get Aemond elected. Your five-year-old kid is out on the campaign trail and you can’t walk around with a tray of hummus and mini spanakopitas? Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, standing with some difficulty and then shoving by you. “Fuck off, Miss America.”

“Aegon!”

But he’s padding off towards the kitchen with his bare feet, tiki print boxer shorts, bedraggled hair. You follow after him in your spotless white heels and sundress patterned with common blue violets. Your earrings are pearls. You’ve wrangled your hair into a tidy French twist. Aegon is getting a pitcher of tomato juice out of the refrigerator, a bottle of vodka from a cardboard Apple Jacks box. He keeps booze and pills hidden everywhere; you’re always stumbling across his caches.

You open your mouth to unleash something hurtful, something hateful, but then you feel the cold flare of liquid on your thighs as the ocean breeze gusts in through the windows. My dress, you think, alarmed. What did I spill on it? One of the ice cubes you threw at Aegon must have caught on the skirt somehow and melted. That’s your first guess, and it is welcome; water doesn’t stain, and you aren’t sure if you have another outfit that is both formal enough and will still fit you. But when you reach down to touch your leg—now the liquid reaches your knees—your hand comes away red.

You look up at Aegon. He’s staring back at you, thunderstruck, horrified. His Bloody Mary ingredients are now forgotten on the countertop. He shouts for the housekeeper: “Doxie?!”

There is indistinct, cantankerous Greek grumbling in return.

“Doxie! Call an ambulance!”

“I don’t understand,” you say to Aegon, bright clotless blood dyeing the whirls of your fingerprints. I ruined my dress, you think nonsensically. “It doesn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt?”

“Don’t move, don’t do anything, just wait for the paramedics.”

But the edges of your vision are going dark and hazy, and the room spins like a flipped coin. Your knees and ankles fold, bones turned to paper. As you drop, Aegon dives for you. You clutch at him, but there’s nothing to grab onto, no suit jacket, no tie, only skin that glows with sunburn. “If I don’t wake up, tell Aemond—”

“You’re not dying, bitch. My luck’s not that good.”

But his eyes are panicked; and they are the last thing you see before you black out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arteries of cement, bones like lead, heavy eyelids opening to reveal strange white walls.

Am I dead?

But no: you hurt all over. Heaven isn’t supposed to hurt. There are needles pierced through the backs of your hands, a splitting rawness in your throat.

Was I intubated? Did I have surgery…?

You try to sit up. The pain is blinding; the severed and sutured latticework of your abdominal muscles is a pit of glass. You gasp, moan plaintively, fumble for the nurse call button on the wooden nightstand.

“Will you stop moving?” Aegon says as he walks into the room. He’s slurping on a straw that pokes out from a Dairy Queen cup. The fluid inside is clumpy and red. Instantly, you think of blood, and a wave of nausea punches through the shredded gore that was once your belly. Aegon flops down into the salmon pink armchair beside the bed and props his combat boots up on the ottoman. “They sliced you up like the Black Dahlia. You’re gonna rip your stitches.”

“They did a c-section…?”

“Yeah, you had some kind of uterus…thing. I don’t remember.”

The baby?? Is the baby alright?? “An abruption?”

More slurping. “No…I think it started with a P.”

“Previa?”

“Yeah, that one.”

You remember waking up a few times: on the kitchen floor as men were lifting you, in an ambulance as the siren shrieked. Someone said you were being taken to Mount Sinai in Manhattan. And that makes sense, that would have been Criston’s plan. Mount Sinai is one of the best hospitals in the country. You look around the room for a bassinet or a crib. Instead you see a wheelchair and a myriad of flower bouquets; word has already gotten out, and so the customary well wishes are pouring in. Lady Bird Johnson sent bluebonnets, the state flower of Texas; Abigail McCarthy sent lilies of the valley; Muriel Humphrey sent roses, traditional, safe, uninspiring; Pat Nixon sent blood orange gladioli. Mrs. Wallace, newly deceased, neglected to call a florist. “Where’s the baby?”

“He’s fine. He’s downstairs in an incubator.”

Ari, you think, though he still doesn’t seem real yet. “What…?”

“His lungs are underdeveloped. But the doctors think he’ll be alright. You want a Mr. Misty? There’s a Dairy Queen like two blocks from here.”

“No, I don’t want a Mr. Misty,” you say, incredulous. “I want to see the baby.”

“Well they can’t move him and they can’t move you, so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m going to see him—” You swing your feet off the bed and feel daggers, fire, a splintering like someone has taken a hammer to your bones. You almost scream; it takes everything in you to choke it down and only gasp as your flesh becomes an inferno. I want a joint, you think randomly, an urge you’d believed you had exorcised from yourself, an archaic relic of a past life.

“Told you,” Aegon says smugly.

You lie panting, helpless, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. “Aemond knows?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve called everyone. He knows.”

“Good. So he’ll be here soon.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perhaps a tad noncommittally.

“Okay.” You’re still trying to catch your breath. Tacoma is a six hour flight away. Even if Aemond doesn’t leave until morning, he’ll be here by sundown tomorrow. “You can go now.”

“Go?!” Aegon exclaims, then laughs, one of his reckless, taunting cackles. “Oh no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You definitely are.”

“No, I’m not,” he insists, grinning. “For once in my life, I’m the person who’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. I’m the honorable one. The sacred heir of the favorite son has just been born, and the blessed mother has been sawed in half like Saint Simon the Zealot, and where is Aemond? Where is literally everyone else? Across the continent shaking hands and forcing smiles to win him the great state of Washington. I’m not going home. I’m collecting every second I spend here like coins from a slot machine. I won the jackpot, babe. No one is ever going to be able to call me the family fuckup after this.”

The pain is horrible, insurmountable; you can’t think through it. You close your eyes and try not to sob, to wail, to split yourself open in body and soul. I can’t let him see me break down.

“What’s up?” Aegon asks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I want a Mr. Misty. Go get me a Mr. Misty.”

“Okay,” Aegon says doubtfully. “What flavor?”

“I don’t care. Not red.”

“They have orange, lemon-lime, grape—”

“Just pick one!” you shout, tears brimming in your eyes. Get out, get out, get out.

“Calm down, psycho!” he yells back, heading for the door.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, you snatch the call button off the nightstand and press it frantically until a nurse arrives. You get more morphine and sink into a stillness like deep water, down, down, down.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s dark outside, stars and a crescent moon. On the television is grainy footage from the Battle of Khe Sanh. American soldiers younger than you are dragging their wounded brethren to a Chinook helicopter for evacuation: bandages, burns, missing limbs and faces. Aegon had dozed off in his chair—assisted by an ample amount of Vicodin, surely—but is stirring awake now. He blinks groggily at the screen.

“It’s so fucking awful,” you say, and Aegon’s eyebrows shoot up; it’s the first time you’ve ever sworn in front of him. You trained yourself to stop when you met Aemond. “30,000 Americans dead, God knows how many Vietnamese peasants, Buddhist monks setting themselves on fire, and for what? So we can say we did everything we could to stop communism? So we can humiliate the Russians? There is no liberation of Vietnam. All we’re doing is making those people hate us. And we’re destroying ourselves too.”

“I didn’t know you cared about the war.”

You look at him, mystified. “Everything I do is about the war.”

“But you never really talk about it.” Aegon yawns and stretches, reaching up towards the ceiling. “You talk about Chanel dresses and tea parties.”

“Well yeah, because it’s…it’s unseemly, I guess. For me to speak on the war. Me specifically.”

He snorts. “Because you’re a woman? Who told you that? Aemond?”

You hesitate, watching the television again. Now there are napalm bombs incinerating villages and rice paddies. “I had a boyfriend before Aemond, you know.”

“What, in kindergarten? Chasing each other around the playground? Illicit snuggles beneath the slide?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “A real boyfriend.”

“No way. You did not.”

“I did,” you insist, smiling a little. “We met at a party my freshman year of college. He was at NYU studying…oh, I always forgot, that was one of our jokes. It was either archaeology or anthropology. I actually thought I was going to marry him for a minute there.”

“Scandalous.” Aegon is gazing at you with his murky blue eyes, grinning, playful. “What happened?”

“He had a moral crisis about poor kids getting shipped off to Vietnam to be slaughtered while he was tucked safely away in his ivory tower. So he enlisted, and honestly it was shocking how quickly I started to forget about him. We exchanged a few letters, it didn’t last long, I think he was forgetting about me too. But he ended up getting killed in action in October, 1965. His old roommate told me.”

Now Aegon is thoughtful. His crooked grin dies. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s his parents I feel bad for. He was an only child. I heard his father drank himself to death.”

“You’ve been carrying a story like that around with you and you never used it? Not in an interview or an article, not at one of your asinine little tea parties?”

“I can’t,” you confess. “Aemond doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t like to be reminded about…you know. That there was someone else before.”

Aegon throws his head back and cackles, combing his fingers through his disheveled blonde hair. “As if Aemond was a virgin when you met him.”

But it’s not the same. It isn’t to Aemond, and it wouldn’t be to the rest of the world either. It is your eternal disgrace. It is something you will be expected to atone for until you’re in the grave. “Give me a joint.”

Aegon is amazed. “What?”

“I know you have some, you always do. I want one. Give it to me.”

“You smoke grass?”

“I used to. Then I gave it up. But I’m making an exception.”

He gawks at you for a while, then slips a joint out of one of the front pockets of his green army jacket. He places it between his lips, lights it with his little chrome Zippo, and inhales deep and slow. Then he offers it to you.

“I don’t want herpes.”

Aegon laughs. “I don’t have herpes. I swear.”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it time.”

“Are you gonna smoke or not?”

You take the joint and fill your lungs with earth, floral notes, a tinge of spice. It’s been years, but it comes rushing back in an instant as the high hits your bloodstream: calm quiet weightlessness, a sense of wellbeing that fills the honeycomb hollows of your bones. “I need to see the baby.”

Aegon stalls. “The doctors were really insistent that you stay here.”

“And all the sudden you care about rules.”

He considers this, drumming his palms on his thighs. His jeans are ripped; he’s biting his lower lip. Then abruptly, he stands. “Alright.” He grabs the wheelchair and pushes it up against the bed. “Let’s go.”

You take another drag and then discard the joint in your empty Dairy Queen cup. You throw off your blanket and try to touch your bare feet to the cool linoleum floor. It hurts, it feels like razor blades, but you keep going. Then you remember you still have one IV in the back of your left hand. “Wait, how am I going to…?”

“You’re in luck. I am well-versed in needles.” Aegon holds out a palm. Nervously, you give him your hand. He peels off the medical tape, takes a moment to examine the vein, then slides out the needle so smoothly you don’t feel it at all; it barely even bleeds. He balls up a Kleenex from the box on your nightstand and secures it to the wound with the same strip of tape. “You’re welcome.”

“Junkie.” You try to lower yourself into the wheelchair and a yelp rips from your throat.

“Oh, this is pathetic,” Aegon says, but not quite unkindly. “Here.” He leans down in front of you. Too desperate to be prideful, you link your arms around the back of his neck. Aegon’s shaggy blonde hair tickles your cheek; his hands skim gingerly to settle on your waist, steadying you without too much pressure. He helps you into the wheelchair, where you collapse gasping and sweating bullets.

“If you ever mention this again, I will guillotine you.”

He winks. “Relax, little Io. I never kiss and tell.”

“I’d assume you’re usually too plastered to remember the details.”

“Be nice. I could roll you down a staircase.” But he doesn’t; he rolls you into the hallway instead.

The lights in the corridor are dim for night, for dreams. You see a few nurses shuttling in and out of other rooms from a distance, but none seem to notice you and Aegon. He steers the wheelchair into the elevator and you ride it down two floors, then cross another hallway and pass through a set of doors. There must be a dozen incubators, half of them occupied. The nurse on duty—currently cradling a tiny infant in her arms, a girl judging by the pink hat, and feeding her from a bottle of formula—gapes at you.

“Ma’am? You aren’t supposed to be—”

“Shut up,” Aegon tells her, and the nurse doesn’t say another word.

Aegon pushes the wheelchair down the line of incubators until you reach the one with a name card labelled Targaryen, Aristos Apollo. And there he is: unmistakably fragile, impossibly small, blue veins like a roadmap beneath translucent skin, tangled in tubes and wires. In his sleeping face you don’t see Aemond or even yourself, but rather an inexplicable familiarity. You feel like you’ve met him before. You feel like you’ve known him all your life.

You press your hand to the clear, domed wall of the incubator; shadows in the shape of your outstretched fingers fall over Ari’s face. “He’s real.”

“Of course he is.” Aegon is watching you; you can see him on the periphery of your vision, a blur of blonde hair and high cheekbones. When you turn to him, he immediately looks away.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.” But his voice is distracted, bewildered, like someone fumbling for a light switch in a dark room.

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youryurigoddess · 1 month

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Maggie’s pendants and good omens

Yes, you’ve read it right. This post is going to deal with some literal good omens, not just title drop! But first things first, let’s take a closer look at the topic of this analysis.

A toucan

The top necklace is a lovely design involving a crowned toucan — believed to be a messenger of gods able to travel between the spiritual and the physical world, often associated with rain and rainbow (a Christian symbol of divine love, grace, and mercy, a reminder of the covenant between God and humanity to spare the latter from future trials like the Flood) — encircled by a gold band (a symbol of infinity, eternal love and promise) spun by a small butterfly (a symbol of transformation, hope, and rebirth). All three symbols combined seem to deliver a divine message of hope for rebirth, possibly resurrection, and the eternal life. Very fitting in the context of the Second Coming.

The fact that toucans were revered by the native South Americans as rainbringers strengthens the symbolic meaning of another type of bird we can spot on Maggie’s clothes in the very first episode, as her character introduction — a swallow. Swallows flying low are also believed to be harbingers of rain and bad weather. If you see one close to Earth or a building, it means that there’s a storm — or a certain biblical tempest — on the horizon.

In Ancient Greece and Rome swallows were representing Aphrodite, goddess of love. In Christianity they were considered to be of God and symbolized hope, awakening, and revival of life as messengers of spring and protectors from winter colds. Also helped Jesus on the Cross — according to a Christian legend, a group of swallows was supposed to take out the thorns from the Crown of Thorns and alleviate His Passion on the Cross. Humans banding together in the name of good have been a big theme in the series ever since The Them made an appearance, and from what we already know about the unpublished Good Omens sequel, we can assume that Jesus is going to take the spotlight in the upcoming season.

Maggie definitely attracts sudden inexplicable weather changes, like a thunderstorm with weirdly localized lightning strikes or a sudden downpour. And we’re still waiting for some vavooming (and the following happy ending) to happen in S3.

A heart with an eye

Now, the more nuanced clue hidden in the bottom necklace. I know that some of us were trying to tackle the concept of Maggie’s eye in a heart pendant suggesting her Masonic connotations, but this symbol (or the Eye of Providence in general) isn’t strictly Masonic, it isn’t even limited only to Judeo-Christian art. And while it is used a lot in Christian iconography, we should focus on a very specific example of it already referenced in the show.

Buckle up, we’re making a parachute dive into S1.

It seems like our old friend, Agnes Nutter, still has our backs.

Prophecy 4020:

Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

If you look closely at the bottom right corner of this frame, you will see that as an illustration for the above prophecy the production team chose a 1611 engraving titled The Minde should have a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High first found in Gabriel Rollenhagen’s Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum.

In 1635 it was published in A Collection of Emblemes, Ancient and Moderne Quickened With Metrical Illustrations, both Morall and Divine, Etc by George Wither with the accompanying hymn:

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by some, was us'd,

When in an Emblem, they would signifie

A Minde, which on Celestiall Matters mus'd:

Implying, by the same, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can see,

So fit an Object for a manly thought,

As those things, which in Heav'n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the rest of his peculiar Features)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphæres,

The piercing Eye, of his Intelligence.

Then, higher, and still higher strive to raise

His Contemplations Eyes, till they ascend

To gaine a glimpse of those eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits tend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fleshly Thoughts corrupt it) to despise

Those Lusts whereto the Body stands inclin'd;

And labour alwayes, upward to arise.

Some, therefore, thought those Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of such,

Who to these loathsome places doomed were,

Because, they doted on the Flesh too much.

But, sure we are, well-minded Men shall goe

To live above, when others bide below.

And hey, guess what 4020, i.e., the number of the prophecy, symbolizes in Strong’s Concordance? Periergazomai, a Greek word meaning “to waste one's labor about something” — to meddle, going beyond proper boundaries (where a person doesn't belong); to fixate on what others are doing, instead of doing what the person himself is supposed to do.

It appears only once in the Bible:

2 Thessalonians 3:11: We hear that some among you are idle and disruptive. They are not busy; they are busybodies. Such people we command and urge in the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down and earn the food they eat. And as for you, brothers and sisters, never tire of doing what is good.

To make things slightly more interesting, in the Hebrew version of Strong’s Concordance 4020 has another meaning — migbaloth, meaning “twisted things, i.e. cords”. Which doesn’t make much sense until we read the actual passage:

Exodus 28:24 and two chains of pure gold, twisted like cords; and you shall attach the corded chains to the settings.

And compare it to the most recent post on the topic published directly by Word of God:

What if all these clues didn’t apply to Maggie and Nina, but Aziraphale and Crowley instead? What if Maggie served as a messenger — consciously or not — just like the toucan, delivering the prophecy to those who need it most?

“When the tempest comes and darkness and great storms, and the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more and there will be great lamentations for the end is near, don’t lose hope, hold hands and look up.”

Basically what Aziraphale and Crowley already did when they performed the 25 Lazarii miracle, only with no interference from Gabriel this time around.

And, if both Strong’s Concordance and Maggie’s personal addition to her second pendant are to be believed, with a wedding band somehow involved in the process.

#everything has a meaning #the invisible and unbreakable line that joins Crowley and Aziraphale #two chains of pure gold twisted like cords #never tire of doing what is good #don’t lose hope #hold hands and look up #the good omens crew is unhinged #good omens props #good omens costumes #the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter #agnes nutter #good omens #maggie service #good omens meta #good omens analysis #strong’s concordance #yuri is doing her thing #ineffable husbands #wedding bands

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love-takes-work · 2 months

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Hot Topic is selling Ruby and Sapphire pendant necklaces!

. . . Unfortunately they're also calling them "best friend" necklaces.

(And the description even sort of indicates that they understand the context of Ruby and Sapphire's relationship while still saying it's a "bestie thing.")

Ruby and Sapphire are fused for life, just like you and your bestie! Inspired by characters from Steven Universe, this bestie necklace set has a silver-tone necklace with a Sapphire-shaped pendant and a ring engraved with Sapphire's name and a faux sapphire on it, as well as a gold-tone necklace with Ruby pendant and faux ruby ring.

Last time I complained about a description I got people sending me weird messages about OH MY GOD STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT A HATE CRIME and OK BUT THAT'S WHAT THIS KIND OF "ONE FOR YOU, ONE FOR SOMEONE ELSE" JEWELRY IS *CALLED*, IT'S *NOT* ACTUALLY AN ISSUE etc. And yeah. Sometimes even with straight characters you'll see them marketed this way (I found something similar with "Bestie Promise Rings" with designs of Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask.) But especially when it comes to same-sex relationships, I'm bothered seeing them presented as exclusively for you and your bestie. Like, if you don't know about the nature of the relationship or you just want plausible deniability because people above you are being jerks about Teh Ghey, you could always just write "give it to the one who's Ruby to your Sapphire!" or something, c'mon.

#steven universe #ruby and sapphire #su merch #steven universe merch #myblog

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naomi-nana · 6 months

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: promise me?

doctor!albedo x fem!reader

cw: ooc, two dense people in love, mention of death, angst, grammar mistake.

a/n: ik this ain't realistic but cmon its fictional so hehehehhe

what are the most wonderful things in this world? if you were to ask any other people in this world that question, i'm certain that their answers would be different. i'm pretty sure that their answer would all be fascinating, but not to a certain doctor. each time he is asked that question, the answer remains the same. "that patient for me is the most wonderful thing that has happened to me." he looked at his colleague with a straight expression on his face. "what's so interesting about her anyways?"

he stayed silent. no one knows. even he doesn't know. why does he care that much about her anyways? she is just a patient. oh, but the way she smiles when he entered the room. the way she greets him with such gentle tone that it would make anyone fall for her. "good morning, my doctor."

"i've told you to stop calling me that." he narrowed his eyes. "just call me by my name." she laughed at him. he only stared at her face in awe, the way she laughs and smiled sincerely at him. her laugh makes him feel all warm inside. he doesn't know why, maybe it's an incurable disease. he's been drinking all sorts of medicine to stop that feeling but it still came, weirdly enough, it only happens when he is with her alone. "well, apologize for my rudeness, sir albedo." he looks at her with a straight face, as if he hasn't been repeating the way she called him.

his name sounds nice when it's said by her.

"what a pity," she mumbles, "it's only a week left before i'm gone from this world." ah. he forgot about that. having spent most of his time trying to cure her disease makes him forgot about the time left. "may i ask something to you?" his ears perk at her question. "ask away."

"will you please stay with me until my death?"

----

he doesn't know why, but he agreed. it's been 2 days after that promise with her. he is now standing besides her bed, listening to her talk about random stuff. "you know, i'd really like it if you made me one of these.." she spoke, as she plays with the little stuffed animal that he made by hand. "i love the designs." she smiles, slightly pressing the eyes of the stuffed animal. "you're complimenting me too much. it's only a stuffed animal."

"but you made it by hand."

"well, yes. but it's not that much of a deal for me."

she sat up and grabbed his hands with hopeful looks in her eyes, "make it for me, pleasee??" he squints his eyes. he wants to decline but, looking at her hopeful eyes makes him feel all..ah. maybe it's worth a try. "..sure. but, promise me something." she smiled in excitement. "what is it?!"

"don't die before i finish it."

---

it's been 3 days since that promise. he is walking over to her room just like usual. he brought little gifts for her today though. "eh, really? this is for me??" she looks at him in awe. the fact that he is willing to go out of his way just to give her a necklace is really heartwarming. "yes. do you not like it?" he ask hesitantly, the nervous feeling started to bubble up. he is scared, for some reason. he is scared to see her feel disgusted by the random gift he gave. "i love it! you are the best, albedo!" ah, there it is. the warm feeling again. maybe it really is an incurable disease at this point.

he took the necklace gently from her and put it around her neck. "you look pretty.." he mumbled. ah, he accidentally let out one of his thoughts. before he could cover his mouth in embarrasment, she chuckles lightly. "thank you." his eyes slightly widened at the sight before him. the sun shines through the window and illuminates her, she looks ethereal. the gold necklace with a turquoise pendant hang nicely around her neck.

oh, how pretty.

---

it's been 4 days since that promise. the stuffed animal she requested is not done yet. he decided to bring it with him to her room today. "you seem to look much more ill than the last few days." he spoke, catching her attention. "ah, maybe i am. who knows," she touched the pendant gently and smiled, "this pendant may be the only thing to keep me alive." she continues. he stopped sewing midway and pursed his lip.

"that's nonsense." he replied, making her chuckle. "oh, you and your hopelessly dense heart." she smiled. he is not dense, he thinks to himself. he just thinks that a pendant can't keep someone alive.

"maybe you'll understand someday, albedo."

---

it's been 5 days since that promise. her state seems to have worsened throughout the days. it made him worry. "you should eat your pills more." he gave her an advice, but she only smiled as she gaze towards the sunset, "it's only a matter of time before i'm gone."

"what's the point in trying to be healthy again? i've lost hope in my life."

"that's not true." she broke her gaze on the sunset and stared at him instead. "how so?" she asked, he pursed his lips. "you still want to live."

"if you hate life so much, why still go through the trouble of eating everyday?"

---

it's been 6 days since that promise. the stuffed animal is almost ready, it just needs a little more sewing. "that's so cute!" she stared at the stuffed animal in awe. "you are so incredibly talented! why choose to become a doctor like this?" he narrowed his eyes at that question.

"that's an incredibly rude question, but i'll answer." she laughs awkwardly at his reply. "i just like alchemy and it's stuff." she blinks her eyes at him in doubt, "that's a really bland reason." he grumbled at her reply. "but you are a really bland person too, so it's okay!"

"how is that supposed to make me feel better?"

---

it's been 7 days since that promise. he finished the stuffed animal already, and his work is all done by afternoon. his routine is always this way, do work till afternoon, and look after his dear patient. he walks over to her room with the stuffed animal in hand. as he opens the door, the bed is empty. the windows are opened, and the wind blew the curtains gently.

ah, he remembers now. she passed away at midnight. he remembers vividly what happen back then. the way she calls for his name and finally let out her last breathe made him feel all empty inside.

there is no one in this room now. all he can see is a room full of memories.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

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isephierreo · 6 months

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Analysis of Emblem Rings Designs

In Artbook, each ring is coded with a Japanese character, and I will analyze it meaning and connection to lord. So if I don't know what it means, or I misinterpreted it, please correct me.

Marth's ring resembles his tiara from Mystery of the Emblem (1994), but with the layers reversed. It is decorated in his standard pattern.

His code in Artbook is 星, means Star. I don't know what it symbolizes?

Celica's ring and design are characterized by three lines, and in her ring, a space is placed between them, which gives consistency with her design. In addition to the presence of Mila's logo.

Her code in Artbook is 守, means Protect, or Defend. I don't remember the Echoes plot well, but it may symbolize her role in the plot.

Sigurd's ring design appears to be a stylized form of his cloak.

His code in Artbook is 承, means Acquiesce. I don't know what it symbolizes?

Leif's ring design is consistent with his design patterns taken from the fourth series of the TCG.

His code in Artbook is 放, means set free, release, fire, shoot, emit, banish, or liberate. It symbolize his role in the Thracia plot.

Roy's ring design is taken from his headband design and the Binding Blade.

His code in Artbook is 火, means Fire. It may symbolize his affinity.

Lyn's ring design is taken from her belt design, and the silver motif has a stylized combination of Mulagir and the metal in her belt.

Her code in Artbook is 風, means Wind. Like Roy, it may symbolize her affinity.

The spiral shape in the twins' ring is similar to the style of their bracelets, while the three gems may refer to three beads in Eirika's belt, and the gem shard to Ephraim's cloak. A group of gems on the middle side may indicate multiple small blades next to large blade in Siegmund and Sieglinde.

Their code in Artbook is 碧, means Blue, Green, or Azure. It may refer to twins in general.

A gold portion of Ike's ring may refer to a yellow stripe of his design in Path of Radiance, a silver portion to his arm armor in the Vanguard class, while a portion surrounding a gem vaguely resembles Lehran's Medallion, referring to the role it played in the plot.

His code in Artbook is 蒼, means Blue. It refer to the first character of a Japanese title Path of Radiance, 蒼炎の軌跡 (Path of the Blue Flame).

The portion surrounding the gem may be a stylized form Micaiah's brand, while a portion on both side resembles wings suggesting of Yune's bird shape. Like Lehran's Medallion, the orange color in Micaiah's ring refers to Yune and the role she played in the plot.

Her code in Artbook is 光, means Light. It may indicate the names of her classes and skills.

Lucina's ring resembles her tiara, while the part surrounding the gem somewhat resembles one of the parts of Falchion's design, while the color of the gem is similar to the mysterious glow that appears in Falchion.

Her code in Artbook is 覚, means Awakening.

The portion on both sides resembles the clasp of her cloak, while the gem resembles a dragon stone.

Unfortunately, I couldn't recognize her code in Artbook. Maybe someone else might recognize it, here are two pictures.

Byleth's ring design resembles their ring from 3H, or their arm armor, while the segments between the gem at the bottom and top may indicate the pattern on a male's chest, and the two segments at the end may indicate both male's and female's pendant ribbon.

His code in Artbook is 導, means to direct, guide, lead, conduct. It symbolize his role in the 3H plot.

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe17

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xarlenewithanx · 8 months

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Pearl Necklace

Summary: His hunger is truly difficult to be satisfied. He just couldn’t keep it in him.

Tags: use of pet names, semi-public(?) sex, fluff,

a/n: pt 2 of “Consummation of the Marriage” wherein it’s day 2 of the honeymoon between you and Gojo ❤. not proofread and unedited.

note to self: i need to practice writing more sex scenes. this is the first time writing where the girl is on top, so please forgive me if i made some mistakes.

Simply because you already spent a night with your husband does not mean your honeymoon is over, and definitely because you’re still on your honeymoon does not mean your husband could simply abandon his duties. He is still the Head, after all.

After you had spent some time together in the town nearby, feeding each other sweet treats, having your portraits painted, walking with your hands intertwined in the garden, and playing games with each other, a servant already greeted you the moment you entered the door.

“My lord, my lady,” the servant bowed. She handed you an invitation.

“This was sent from one of the families.” The servant bowed to you again and left.

Satoru opened the letter to see an invitation, inviting the both of you to a ball hosted by a close family friend. It was mandatory, of course. He looks at you and looks at the invitation again. He sighed in disappointment as he thought he could have you all to himself again.

“Ugh— do we have to do this?” He asks.

You chuckle in response.

“Well, it did say it was mandatory does it not?”

He sighed again. He pulled you closer to him.

“But—”

You place your index finger between his lips.

“We must prepare, we don’t want to be late,”

The servants had assisted you as you prepared for the event. Your dress was floor-length, with a square neck design, and matching gloves.

As the servants were helping you with your hair, your husband entered your dressing room with his outfit ready.

The servants took notice and quickly left the room, leaving only both of you alone. He came up behind you and you saw him moving in the mirror’s reflection. His affectionate gaze can be seen through the dark lenses of his glasses.

With him is a necklace that he puts on your neck. It was a pearl necklace, with a “G” pendant in gold, courtesy of his last name’s initial. After clasping the two ends of the necklace, you touched the pendant, him still looking at you through the reflection.

“You look stunning in gold,” he stated before lowering his head to kiss your clavicle.

As you walk through the hallway of the venue, all eyes are on you. Despite being slightly late, you still manage to make an impression on the crowd.

The night was magnificent. You had made new acquaintances with the ladies, and you were enjoying the night dancing with Satoru.

As you were drinking at the event, Satoru came up to you, requesting a walk in the garden. You agreed, of course. How could you reject him?

You both talked about how this honeymoon made you closer as a couple. He talked about how you used to always get lost when you first settled in his estate. You talked about how he is always clinging to you when you sleep together.

As you continued your walks, he stopped to look at you.

“I still remember the time I heard you beg your mother to accept this engagement as our fathers talked about marriage. We were only 16 at the time.”

You froze. How could he remember such a moment?

“I-I did not!” You lied.

He laughed at your response.

“Oh yeah? Then why do I remember what you said?” He cleared his throat.

“Mother! That young man with blue eyes was truly handsome! Please make Father agree to the proposal!” he said, using his best impression.

Your face was red as a tomato. You quickly turned around him and covered your face with your fan, avoiding eye contact with him.

He finds it cute when you blush and try to hide from him. His gaze then went down to your chest. Seeing the pendant bounce on your chest as you breathed triggered something in him.

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” He requests.

You look up at him, still breathing heavily out of embarrassment.

“Please do,” You replied.

He held your hand and took you to a place in the garden that you didn’t even realize was there.

He placed you behind a wall, standing up. His warm, heavy breathing was evident.

He removed your gloves and kissed the back of your hand, trailing up to your forearm, before he kissed you on the lips.

His hand was cupping your cheeks as you kissed him, while the other trailed down to find your thigh.

He lifted your thigh and placed it beside his waist as he continued to kiss you passionately.

“I really want to fuck you right now,” he groaned, knowing he wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Dear, can’t you wait just a little longer?” You cup his cheeks as you ask.

He gave you a pouting face, hoping you would leave with him immediately.

“You really have no self-control, do you?” You smiled. “Just wait… I promise it’ll be worth it,”

He sighed in disappointment. He let go of your thigh and returned your glove before you headed back to the event.

Before you entered the hall, he whispered in your ear, “I really do hope it’s worth waiting,”

/After the event/

Your loud moans echoed through the walls of the empty house as he sucked on your nipples while using his free hand to finger your tight cunt.

“Toru…”

Your legs were already shaking rapidly out of pleasure, but it seemed he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

“Fuck… Such a sight to behold.” He stated before continuing to suck your nipple.

You were losing your balance, but he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Your words are unrecognizable the longer he gave you immense pleasure.

After thrusting his fingers in and out of you for what felt like hours, he finally removed his fingers, revealing wrinkles.

He removed his mouth from your boobs and he places his fingers into your mouth. You suck on his fingers as he pushed them even deeper.

“You taste good right?” he teased.

You, unable to say anything, just nodded in response.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and lay on the bed. You undid his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing a large bulge on his underwear. As you quickly pull down the waistband, his large cock sprang up, leaking pre-cum.

You breathed heavily out of anxiousness.

“You can do it,” he cooed.

You went on top of him, slowly lowering down your body. You feel his tip on your entrance. You let out a moan as you sank deeper below.

“F-fuck!” Satoru groaned as he held your waist.

You slowly moved on top of him, trying to get used to this. Your boobs begin bouncing as you moved faster, along with that necklace he gave you.

The feeling was so good that you couldn’t stop moaning his name.

“Sato-ru! Ahh~,”

“Just like that princess… just like that,” he murmured.

“God you’re taking me so well,”

He begins moving his hips to match your movements. He looked at you filled with lust and an insatiable hunger.

“You really do look stunning in gold,” he commented on the bouncing necklace.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk smut #smut fanfiction #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #xarlenie writes #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #fanfics #fanfiction #fandoms #x reader fanfics

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kaurtrends · 2 years

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Husband Name Design Mangalsutra locket ideas #fancy #mangalsutra #pendant #kaurtrends

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#gold mangalsutra design #husband name design mangalsutra #husband name design mangalsutra locket ideas #husband wife name mangalsutra #latest mangalsutra design pendant #mangalsutra #mangalsutra design #mangalsutra design with husband name #mangalsutra designs #mangalsutra locket #mangalsutra new design #name design mangalsutra #name mangalsutra design images #name wale mangalsutra design #new mangalsutra design #sone ke mangalsutra design

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onmyyan · 1 year

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Okay, Hia! I’m hate to ask y/n’s friends trying to seduce Caspian! Idk if you had done this already but I was Caspian meet our friends and it’s obvious that they wanna fuck him

A/N: apologies for the wait! Loved this request bec Cas gets feral when you're relationship is tested, let me know if y'all want a smut to this!!NOT EDITED

TW'S: Yandere, cursing, horny Cas, shitty people/ friends, suggestive towards the end, Cas gets mean but don't worry never to you

You nearly buzzed in place from your ever growing excitement, not only were you about to go out looking as fine as you were, but you were going with Caspian!

A few friends of yours texted you last minute asking if you wanted to join them at the club, they asked if you could be the designated driver as they all wanted to drink and despite the small voice in your head telling you not to, that they'd only asked you to join so you could drive, the people pleaser in you won out and just like that you were scrambling to pick an outfit.

This particular group of women were more work friends than real ones, and the urge to belong was stronger than the odd vibes they gave off, this is the main reason you tiptoed into the kitchen that afternoon.

"Hi honey- what's wrong?" His tone went from joyous to concerned in a matter of seconds, he all but abandoned the pot he'd been diligently stirring for the last hour in favor for cupping your cheeks. "I'm fine my love, just- you free tonight?" His shoulders relaxed at the question, his large frame tilting down so he could steal a kiss. "For you? Always."

"Welllllll I know you didn't have the greatest time with my friends the last time we hung out with people I know but they invited me to the club- they need a designated driver see, and I was wondering if maybe you might wanna go with me?" Your nerves were apparent from the way you played with your shirt sleeve and it almost made him chuckle, as if you ever had to worry about him saying no to you.

"I'd love to go, and if you want to drink I can drive, you shouldn't have to limit yourself so others can party." He may have been smiling in the moment but his temper began to flare at the idea of you being so clearly used by people who cared little if at all for your wellbeing.

He knew how much you loved to dance and he could tell how happy you were to be apart of something so he bit his tongue and prayed to the universe he didn't loose his shit in front of you.

The two of you got ready together, the process being halted many times so he could kiss your neck or lips, whichever he had better access to at the moment the urge struck him. He made sure his outfit complimented your own, before you left he attached the prettiest necklace to your neck, making sure to leave a trail of kisses as he pulled away. The pendant was an adorable set of intertwined rose gold hearts, your initials carved in the shining metal, he giddily pulled a matching dainty chain from beneath his shirt, showing off his own.

"So we match." It was a subtle way to keep his possessive urges in check. Plus the way you lit up when he put it on was reason enough on it's own.

Caspian made a habit of racing to get out before you so he could hold the door open as you exited his sleek black car. He gave his keys to the valet with a finesse that seemed practiced and immediately slipped a large hand around your waist, his grip tightened subconsciously searched for the harpy's. The group appeared in no time squealing in what he deemed was a fake display of excitement.

"You came!! You're such a lifesaver (y/n)! What would we do without you huh?" He didn't bother listening to her name so he didn't exactly who had their disgusting arms around you despite your obvious discomfort. You giggled gently taking them off your shoulders and started to respond before another cut you off, "You didn't tell us you were bringing such a fine plus one- hi I'm Sandy." She held a hand out for him to take which he simply waved at.

"Caspian, and I'm her boyfriend actually." He didn't even try to hide his displeasure at her choice of words. "My mistake." She said in a sultry manner, her hands placed on her chest in mock sympathy.

His fist tightened before he made a move to hold your hand. "Ready honey?" He kissed the back of your hand as the group went for the door, not even bothering to wait for the two of you. "As I'll ever be." You responded, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of anxiety. He made sure to press kiss the side of you head as you two entered the dark club.

He fell for your kindness but damn did you give it to the wrong people.

At first things were as good as could be, you and Caspian wrapped up with each other in a darkened booth, him whispering sweet nothings against your skin, he was having a perfectly wonderful time until about an hour in, two of the women he didn't bother introducing himself to had randomly appeared out of nowhere and pulled you from his arms out on the dance floor. He pouted to himself before he caught the genuine smile on your face, he'd endure anything to keep it there. After a while the three of you trotted off to where he assumed the bathroom was, much to his displeasure. Just as he was about to whip out his phone to see exactly where you were, he caught sight of someone coming towards him.

His irritation only grew as Sandy sauntered her way up to Caspian with confidence, two drinks in hand. "You look like a whiskey guy." She slid the cup over with skill and sat on the table before him. Her finger danced around the rim of her glass and he couldn't help but gape, was this bitch foreal right now? He could laugh at the audacity but instead he pushed the drink back towards her.

"I'm not." She huffed playfully at him, as if he'd told a joke and knocked back the glass with an exaggerated moan of appreciation, knowing damn well the cheap shot tasted like gasoline. His heart began to pound in anger as he searched the crowd for you.

"Okayy well do you dance big guy?" She leaned across the table to give him a full view of her chest, the delicate bat of her lashes always got her what she wanted, so you could imagine her surprise when he stood up to his full height, nearly knocking her over with the speed. "I sure do, with my girl." He didn't try to mask his distain for the woman who claimed to be your friend.

Her embarrassment wasn't enough to stop her in her quest though, "What she don't know won't hurt her- c'mon my girls have her attention for as long as we need." She wrapped her arms around his midsection from behind with surprising speed, it felt like broken glass and salt everywhere she touched. His face twisted into a snarl as he ripped her hands from his body, all but throwing himself away from her shocked form.

"You're disgusting- what kind of woman throws herself at a taken man? Her so called friend at that?" Sandy's face fell with every venomous word he spat, not at all prepared for the man before her.

"I'll tell you what kind of person does that. A miserable one. One that could disa-fuckin-ppear and the world would be better." With every word her body seemed to shrink in on itself. "You're lucky she didn't see that shit you just pulled- if she so much as thinks I'm skeevin' cuz a cheap thing like you I swear on everything I love it'll be the last mistake you make. Are we clear? " His tone left no room for arguing, that paired with the mean ass sneer had the teary eyed nuisance nodding her head wordlessly and before she could speed walk away he grabbed her forearm in a vice, "Matter of fact this is gonna be the last time you or any one of those wastes of spaces you call friends bothers my baby again- lose her number. Fast." He made a point to wipe his hand on his pants after he released her. Cas felt somewhat better at the sight of the woman's misery but his blood was still boiling.

His eyes searched for you desperately, his pulse only calming once he spotted your happy form bouncing over to him from the crowd. "This place is amazing Cas! The bathroom was so boujie I had to take like a million pictures- I didn't make you wait too long right?" He smiled down at you, leaning against the back of the booth, he pulled you into his chest with a content hum. "You're worth any wait honey, also I want those pics, I need a new wallpaper."

The sweet moment would be ruined when he caught sight of the hag you called friend glaring at your back. His gaze would sharpen before he returned his attention to who mattered most.

He'd burn you in place with his stare, the sudden intense look had your knees shaking, you knew that look, it was almost always followed by a few rounds on whatever available surface was closest. His adrenaline still pumping, he gently grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, the kinda kiss that was always followed by trouble.

After a few seconds you pulled back just a bit, intending to question the sudden PDA but he didn't give you a chance, after fighting his way in, he sucked long and hard on your tongue, moaning into the kiss like a pornstar, the fingers not playing with your hair snaked their way down to grab a handful of ass, grinding his growing bulge into your core had the both of you letting out the softest moans. "Fuck- what's gotten into you Cas?" You giggled against his panting mouth, visibly flustered, he licked a stripe across your bottom lip causing your exposed skin to flare with goosebumps.

"Just showing everyone here they can look-" A hand gently lifted your chin, his stare holding you in place, "but only I get to touch." He leaned down to trail searing kisses into your neck, glaring at the still embarrassed woman watching the two of you.

Like a dog marking his territory he began to nip and suck at the spot just below your neck. Your giggles and little whines being the only thing holding him back from tearing into that woman who after all she'd done had the nerve to still be in the same room as you two, you suddenly pulled away to look him in the eye.

"C'mon you horndog, let's get outta here before you try to fuck me on the dance floor." You joked tugging him towards the door.

"Hear me out-"

"Absolutely not."

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